Top of the World [2PM]
Title: Top of the World
Author: verocity
Rating: G
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: past Junho/Khun
Summary: This is not a story about breaking up. This is a story about what must happen after.
Author's Note: My original entry for kpop-olymfics 2013 cycle, originally posted here. Team Cry, I love you so much. I hope you know that.
Word Count: 10,642 words
There once was a time - during the rage of adolescent hormones and before he learned that there were bigger things - when Junho thought this was the penultimate lesson of literature: a steady love that weathered the years and seared the trails of memory with burning passion was only memorable when it ended. Take literature, like Romeo and Juliet. Take celebrities from overseas, like Justin and Jessica. Take music and lyrics, like the popularity of vindictive breakup songs versus the obscurity of lyrics about genuine happiness. Take so many other people from right within the community, as if married couples who stayed strong were given as a fact of life but parents who divorced were discussed in public and merited its own statistics. Fact: people bitterly celebrated apartness.
If they'd loved and truly loved, no one will remember. But if they'd loved and failed even if the love was true, no one will forget.
Love and togetherness were fiction. Loving and parting ways were in your face every day.
Take people like himself. Like Junho and Nichkhun.
"Your melancholy is suffocating." On the other hand, Wooyoung's acidic commentary was as real as death and taxes.
Junho grinned emptily at him from across the bar table, white teeth gleaming palely in the dim lighting. "How much sympathy will 'You don't understand, you've never been in love' get me?"
"Sympathy?" Wooyoung scoffed. "That will get you full-hearted dismissal."
"I knew I can always rely on you for honesty." And it was true. If he ever compiled a list of ways people would describe Wooyoung, 'honest' would be right up there alongside 'anti-social' and 'tactless at times', with 'brutally' being an adjective to all three.
It was a fact of life. Wooyoung was Wooyoung. "Besides, it's not like you and Khun had a huge fight or anything," he continued. "It was all very peaceful. Very mature."
Junho suspiciously cocked an eyebrow. "And how would you know? Hyung, were you eavesdropping on us?"
Wooyoung flicked a bottle cap at his forehead. "You jerk, say thanks when someone gives you a compliment. I thought you were mature. I never even think anyone is mature these days."
"Thanks then," Junho indulged him and lapsed into silence.
It was true, though. The end - or at least the way they'd ended it - was very mature. It was very quiet. It was a mutual agreement. It was, in Junho's loving opinion, full of bullshit.
"He didn't tell me what happened," Wooyoung said pre-emptively as if he could read right into Junho's mind. "Just so you know. I mean, he told me it was over between the two of you and that was it." Wooyoung shrugged. "I asked. He just wouldn't say."
"I appreciate the reassurance. We wanted it to have as little impact on the group as possible."
Somehow, Wooyoung's sardonic grin wasn't all that reassuring. "Oh, Junho-yah, you are still such a naïve little boy."
~
And that was it, although Wooyoung's condescension wasn't easy to appreciate. Junho was still an amateur (or immature? he wondered once) in the grand scheme of things - popularity and singing and dancing and knowing how to sparkle didn't mean he'd learned how to live. Having the love and support of a hundred thousand fans didn't mean he in turn automatically knew how to love a single person.
He was an idol. He could belt songs and thrust hips and shine under the spotlight like the best of them. But all that took time. Too much time. Too many hours vocalizing and stretching and putting on make-up with the same core group of six and the same battalion of support personnel under the guidance of the same visionary management, and what all that meant was a boy who smiled when the world was watching but was ready to fall to pieces when the only eyes trained on him were his own.
You could hide plenty of things from the fans, from management, from the rest of the group. But an honest man hid nothing from himself. And Junho? He took honesty to his soul.
What he saw when he looked into the mirror - past all the foundation and mascara and eyeliner and premature wrinkles - was a little man who was afraid he would grow up alone, a man who was scared that no matter what he did no one would love him in a way he would find concretely meaningful.
Funnily enough, Junho wasn't the only one who felt this way.
Looking back at this after all these months passed, Junho had one word for it all.
Misguided.
Night Cafe
"Do you think he really loved me?" Junho asked, back in the present and very determinedly getting hammered. Except that Junho couldn't really do 'hammered'; the taste of alcohol was already enough to knock him out for the rest of the night and although that sounded inviting it's not a fate he would wish on Wooyoung.
Compromise? According to Taec: when it came to matters of heartbreak alcohol was good but chocolate was better. Junho, ever logical, decided that having both at once would be perfect: order a milkshake then add a generous serving of chocolate Mudslide. An elegant solution.
Wooyoung's smile was less warm and more a threatening baring of teeth. "If you won't start using non-gender-specific pronouns in public, I'm going to shove this bottle down your throat," he hissed, those charming lips barely moving.
Junho ignored him. He was having one of those moments. "I mean, how can I tell? Doesn't it mean something that we were so coolly rational? When other people would have at least cried, manliness notwithstanding? Hell, hyung, we even shook hands! He cried when Jay left, didn't he? Did I not mean as much? Was I not worth the tears?"
"Self-pity is not a good look on you," Wooyoung gritted out even as his eyes scanned the crowd for eavesdroppers. Knowing exactly how far one's voice carried in public was a little known idol skill. So was zeroing in on any break in the crowd that could be paparazzi taking a picture. "Did you cry?" All clear.
It was Junho's turn to scoff. "Of course not."
"And the reason for this double-standard is?"
"Hey, I've always been the calm, collected, stoic one," Junho pointed out. "Khun-hyung is supposed to be the emotional do-gooder, remember? He reads Coelho. He's the one who planned everything we did together." Like that time when they skipped on a night out with the rest of the guys for a book date. Junho was already twelve pages into Eleven Minutes before Minjun and Chansung dragged them both out of bed by their ankles and badgered them into dressing up to go clubbing. Taecyeon thought they were in a rut. Junho thought it was a good thing.
Still, they had fun. They didn't mention that they were just waiting for everyone to get out of the dorm so they could have a different kind of fun, but the guys meant well and that meant a lot.
"All I can say is this," Wooyoung interrupted his memories, "you have hidden depths. People think you have hidden depths because you don't show much on the surface so they think, 'hey, that guy must be deep'. But not all guys with blank expressions are profound. Some could just be empty. Am I right?"
Junho nodded slowly, uncertainly. "Yes? I'm with you so far."
"Then doesn't it follow that not all emotional people show everything on the surface? That in the end it's a matter of individuality?"
Well. That was... something. Junho stared at Wooyoung like he'd been living with a stranger all this time. "Wow, hyung. I never knew you were a closet humanist. What's next, a decree on the indomitability of the human spirit? Should I prepare myself for a treatise on overcoming societal influences on behavior?"
Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at him. "Just because I believe in people doesn't mean I have to like them. But back on point: you're you, he's him. It's that simple. I will dunk your head in boiling water if I have to spell it out for you."
"Your concern for your dongsaeng's well-being is very heart-warming," Junho sniffed. Wooyoung meant well, even if his definition of affection differed greatly from the norm. But then Wooyoung's brand of tough love was tiring. The truth was something everyone needed to hear and that was his excuse for wielding it like a club. Talking to Wooyoung about love and life meant taking a break every few minutes to indulge in something mindless.
The timing was perfect. Another lesser-known idol skill: watching the crowd and picking out disguised idols who were doing their best to blend in. Something about being in the public eye all the time resonated across body language, an oblique form of camaraderie.
Junho nodded at the main entrance where a tall figure wearing a trench coat two seasons out of date and a fedora (which was tragic all on its own) walked in with practiced nonchalance. "Looks like we're not alone tonight," Junho said with forced distracted interest on his face.
Wooyoung's eyes flicked neatly at the same direction. "DBSK?" he whispered.
Junho ran his mind through his extensive list of colleagues before a silent itching at the back of his head threw the stranger in new light. Something about the way he walked, the set of those shoulders, the angle of his neck as he kept his head down... "No, I don't think so."
"Look at his date," Wooyoung hissed vehemently.
Junho looked and subsequently nodded his approval. "She's pretty."
"She's not an idol," Wooyoung pointed out.
"Not all pretty girls are in our industry, hyung," Junho chided. Wooyoung sniffed but kept further remarks to himself. Junho continued, "I think it's great. We should all remember that we're all just kids, and that we should date whoever we want."
"There is a difference," Wooyoung reminded him, "and it all boils down to this: we're under contract."
Junho raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I don't think the contract has clauses limiting affairs of the heart," he deadpanned.
"Did you read the fine print?" Wooyoung shot back then sniggered when Junho's face suddenly scrunched up with worry. "Stop messing around, Junho, your idealism is leading you blindly. There's nothing stopping us from dating non-idols except common sense and reality."
Junho grumbled incoherently but offered no further resistance.
It was a reality he'd long ago learned to accept. Idols didn't date non-idols because it wasn't healthy for their career. Or for their image. Or for the relationship. Or for the non-idol. There were countless stories. And those stories weren't about faceless people whose existence relied only on dubious word of mouth: Junho knew people- he had friends whom the company glossed over because they were more devoted to their relationships than to rehearsals. A sign of weakness. A trainee who had a girlfriend couldn't be trusted to succeed.
This was the unspoken rule that the industry imposed: you're free to love, but do it at home behind locked doors and tinted windows and - if possible - underground. Bring your love in public? Then be ready to face a permanent exit.
And what was worse, romance threatened more than just a single person's career. Idol groups relied heavily on the collective image: the members were idols first, friends second.
Romance threatened all that. Friendship rarely survived when lifelong dreams were at risk. Between the two, kicking out friends was easier than kicking out dreams.
That was why Junho and Nichkhun kept their relationship as private as they could. That was why they didn't tell anyone, why they kept the group from finding out as long as they could, why they held out until Taec made the inevitable discovery and even then they kept their matters to themselves.
In the end, he didn't want this to ruin his friends.
Junho didn't like it. Just because he followed it didn't mean he liked it one bit.
Something must have shown on his face. "You support them, don't you?" Wooyoung asked gently. "You support this couple you don't even know, just on the grounds that you believe everyone is free to seek their own happiness."
Junho's defiant smirk said it all. "If they're in love, hyung, nothing else matters."
For all his mastery of the empty expression, Wooyoung found it hard to stop his lips from twitching into a smile. Junho knew that it was during times like these when Wooyoung was being genuine, when he was being careful not to let anything show but he cracked at the edges and his real warmth shone through. Rare moments, these, which Junho learned to cherish.
But the spell broke and Wooyoung's eyes flicked away for an instant. Then the warmth was gone and all the sour humor returned, and Junho's mood turned from cherishing to on guard with the practice of ease.
"Junho-goonie. Our Junho," Wooyoung began carefully and that was it, the alarm bells went into overdrive in Junho's head. "I'm glad you support them," he said simply.
Junho turned in his seat, all decorum forgotten, dread pooling heavily in his gut.
And across the bar the disguised idol sat with his date, only now he wasn't so disguised without the fedora. But even before the visual recognition recent memories clicked into place: the familiarity in the stranger's walk and stance and stature - he saw it every day.
Junho watched his best friend stare longingly into his date's eyes, all care in the world forgotten, wearing on his face an expression of perfect bliss.
Everyone else can screw themselves. Tonight, there were only two people in Chansung's life. Tonight, he was at the top of the world.
~
"He lied to us!"
"Gee, thanks for not overreacting," Wooyoung said flatly as they walked to the taxi bay under Seoul's familiar starless night.
"I'm not overreacting," Junho practically warbled. "I'm just affronted, which is a perfectly normal reaction because Chansung lied to us! He said he had a birthday party to go to!"
"Well," Wooyoung carefully considered. "Maybe it's her birthday and he's treating her out?"
"I fail to see the party," Junho insisted. "And I didn't see cake. It's not a birthday party if there's no cake."
"So he's on a date. It's not a big deal. I thought you supported them. And it could be worse! She could be... I dunno. A manager from a different company or something. Or a single mom. She could be a dominatrix!"
Junho grabbed Wooyoung's hand and squeezed hard, hoping that maybe a bit of pain would bring Wooyoung to his senses. "Hyung. This is Chansung we're talking about. Our Chansung. On a date with someone who's not an idol! And who knows, maybe tomorrow he'll quit 2PM and get married and forget all about us!"
"Ah. So that's what this is about. You're bothered that Chansung's dating outside of the industry."
"Of course that's not what this is about! Where have you been the past few minutes? This is about not breaking the group up!"
"So you mean to tell me," Wooyoung said carefully as he hailed a cab, "that you supported him when you thought he was just any other idol and not 'our Chansung'."
"Yes! Wait, that's not-"
Wooyoung put his arm around Junho's shoulder and hugged tight, both for affection and for the warmth against the night's cold. "Wow. When you were born, did the doctors have to pry your foot from your biiiiiig mouth? Just be glad I'm the tolerant type, Junho-sshi," Wooyoung told him sweetly. "Or else I'd have been severely disappointed in your principles. Now get in the cab before you ruin your life further."
~
Like the best friend that he was, Junho didn't mention anything to Chansung throughout the following day. Not directly, anyway.
"So how was the party?" he asked the bathroom mirror thickly while he brushed his teeth and Chansung shaved beside him.
"It was okay. Typical birthday party, you've seen one you've seen them all," Chansung said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, making sure he didn't end up with a Joker smile first thing in the morning.
"Do you think we'll ever get to dance in a trench coat?" Junho asked as the wardrobe coordinator handed them today's poor excuse for a fashion statement.
"What, all of us in one trench coat?" Chansung asked, grimacing in concentration as he struggled to fit into a too tight tank top made of unyielding leather.
"I went on a date last night," Junho confided quietly as a contortionist enthralled the rest of Star King.
"Did Wooyoung-hyung know it was a date?" Chansung asked, watching Amber nudge a sleeping Henry and point at the girl using her feet to take a candelabrum off her head. "I thought he was going out with-"
"Congratulations!" Wooyoung interrupted pointedly. "You're really doing a good job of staying out of this."
"What?" Chansung asked blankly.
Junho and Wooyoung offered identical, sickeningly sweet smiles. "Nothing, Chansungie~"
~
"He lied to us!" Junho seethed in the greenroom.
"Live and let live," Wooyoung reminded patiently.
~
Taecyeon grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pulled him into his and Minjun's room. "Is it just me," he grumbled as he leaned against a wall, fatigue emanating off him in waves, "or are you and Wooyoung up to something?"
Junho widened his eyes in innocence. As widely as they would open, at least. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, hyung."
"Seriously?" Every line on Taecyeon's face told stories of exhaustion and frustration. Every premature wrinkle from laughing, natural and forced, at everything the world threw at him because humor was the only sensible defense against the stress he faced day in and day out. "Okay. What the hell. Junho, you've always been one of the most level-headed people around here so I'll cut you some slack."
"Very motivational, hyung."
"Shut up," Taec sighed and wiped his glasses on his pajama collar. "I'm sexy and I'm tired. It's just not a good combination, okay? And you're between me and my precious bedtime so let's just get this over with."
"Well, who am I to argue with sincerity like that?"
"How are things between you and Khun?" Taecyeon asked bluntly, which stopped Junho's light-hearted joking dead in its tracks.
There was a reason why Taecyeon became the leader.
Gone were the days of eternal body gags, of disgraceful puns and the careless beastly personality. This was no longer the same Taecyeon whom Junho competed with once before and became teammates with not long after. The Taec who prolonged his youth and just wanted to have fun was lost in the past.
Standing before Junho now, towering over him in more ways than one, was the Ok Taecyeon drawn out of his shell of sheer and misguided optimism. The Ok Taecyeon tempered by heartbreak and the burden of leadership, the person answerable to management for the group's every single step out of line. And many lines had been crossed. Taecyeon bore responsibility for each one.
Jay had many faults as a leader, though the group never faulted him for his shortcomings. Then he left and that was when Junho learned that Jay's biggest fault and his brightest saving grace were the lengths he would go to save his group from harm. When he left, the protection he offered vanished with him, along with the illusion of invulnerability that 2PM once believed they had. Leaderless, every misstep during rehearsals, every second of dead air during reality shows, every excess hour when recording was rebuked by management themselves. Until Taecyeon stepped up to carry the burden.
That was the great lesson of discipline. Of them all, Taecyeon learned it the hardest.
He could never throw the same illusions of strength that Jaebeom had so effortlessly wrapped around himself. But Taec was learning. There were days, few and far between, when Junho could start feeling invulnerable again. There were days, and they were good days, when they all believed that Taec was invincible.
And then there was the anger. The resentment. The searing thought that unified Taec's will. Jay was a quitter. Taec would show him that he could be a much better leader. That he should have been the leader since the start. That Jay should never have been there in the first place. That Jay didn't believe in them enough to stand beside him through it all.
They pretended not to know. It was easier not to see your own anger if you were turning a blind eye to something else.
Except for one person. Except for Nichkhun, who had always seen past the illusion, had always seen Jay's struggles in leadership more clearly than anyone else, saw Taec's harsh determination and the fear and guilt that powered it from within. Nichkhun had not been blinded by the euphoria of slowly climbing to the top of the world.
Then one day the wounds healed and they could pretend that they'd never been angry at all, and this time they could pretend not to notice Taec pushing himself harder than Jaebeom had ever done.
In a group, there must be trust. Like how Junho trusted Taecyeon to one day move on from the Jaebeom-shaped cage he'd made for himself.
Nichkhun got Junho's love, sad as it was that it lasted only for so long. But Taec earned Junho's respect, and that lasted forever.
"We haven't talked since then," Junho admitted.
"Since when?"
"You know since when," Junho almost whined but stopped himself just in time. "Since... that night."
Taec sighed and sat on the lower bunk. "Junho, you have to say it. I need to hear you say it."
Junho nodded. In leadership, there must be trust. "We haven't talked since we broke up. Two weeks. We haven't talked in two weeks, Taec."
"You see each other every day. You live in the same dorm."
"It's not that easy, Taec," and okay, maybe a bit of whining made it out this time. "You've been through break ups, haven't you? It's only been two weeks! Two weeks is definitely not long enough."
"Junho." Taec stood up, all of his acquired dancer's grace forgotten, put a calloused hand on Junho's shoulder, and pleaded, "We don't have time. It's already taking too long."
Bedroom in Arles
"Hey."
Nichkhun twisted his waist from the book he was reading on his bed to face Junho. "Hey."
They saw each other every day, Junho reminded himself. They were not teenagers anymore. He knew this was going to be awkward and hard but it was the right thing to do and damn it he was going to do it. He and Khun had brought this on themselves, and if Taec was getting involved then things were getting too serious.
Junho willed himself to step forward from the door, to sit on Nichkhun's bed like he'd done a thousand times before. This bed was witness to their being friends, then more than friends. It can witness them being friends again. "I just wanted to say hi."
Nichkhun smiled at him, one of those distracting angelic ones he used when he wasn't sure of what to say. "Hi. What's up?" Nichkhun sat up and patted the patch of bed beside him. A universal invitation to sit. And chat. Just that.
But this wasn't Junho's Nichkhun. Back when they were together, Nichkhun's smile used to light up his face slowly like the sunrise after a starless night. They hadn't been very physical - Junho insisted that theirs was a complement of minds, not a congress of bodies - but during those few times they celebrated being together, Nichkhun always made sure they left their idol images behind.
Junho tried not to suffocate then and there. "Nothing much. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"I've been... well, I've been better. But it's not so bad, I guess. And you?"
A bit of small talk between friends. Junho told himself it's that simple, it's really just that simple.
But it's not.
"Same. I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he answered, his face carefully neutral.
He pretended he didn't see the brief flash of hurt in Nichkhun's eyes. "Yeah. Tomorrow. Sleep well, busy schedule ahead of us."
"Yeah." Junho let himself out, locked himself in his room, and crumpled slowly against the door.
~
Not for the first time, Junho was glad he led such a busy life. Between dance rehearsals, vocal training, recordings, photoshoots, production meetings for variety shows, actually shooting those shows, weekly individual coaching with management, auditions, those countless tiny things that kept an idol absorbed... between all these things he found that he could focus on working hard. After all, the idol motto was, 'No rest. No excuses. No matter what.' (And if it wasn't, then it damn well should be.)
For the first time he actually dreaded taking those fifteen minute breaks that everyone seemed to love so much.
He could feel his group's eyes on him. He could feel their quietly awkward sympathy, could feel them thinking, 'Is he okay? Should I go talk to him? Maybe I should talk to him. Maybe (insert another member here) should talk to him. Wait, maybe I should wait for him to talk to me?'
To which Junho just wanted to rage, 'I'm okay, stop worrying! Let me get my water bottle in peace! Why aren't you worrying about Khun? His eyes are more expressive than mine, he's more obviously heartbroken, why not ask him? I'm okay!'
He wasn't, of course - not deeply enough that he could look at Khun again and smile easily, those days hadn't come back yet. But in other ways that mattered, he was okay.
As long as he could sing, as long as he could dance, he was okay. He just didn't want to talk.
Maybe they shouldn't count Minjun's tactlessness against him.
"Hey old man," Junho greeted as Minjun huddled against him at a corner of the dance studio.
"You've been such a bad dongsaeng lately, you know that?" Minjun scolded him lightly, complete with a slap at Junho's forehead that was nowhere near menacing. "Don't you know that you're supposed to hassle your hyungs to spend time with you? You keep holing yourself up like this that I'm starting to think you're rebelling against me."
"Am not," Junho pleaded childishly, deliberately petulant. "I just thought hyung was busy and all. Genius takes effort, right?"
"You really don't get it, do you? As a dongsaeng it's expected of you to insist on spending time with your hyung. It's my only socially approved excuse to not work so hard. You're my break time, man, live up to it!"
Junho grinned despite himself, an action that felt so alien somehow despite doing it for the camera every day. It wasn't a very warm smile, but it was a start. "Fine, fine, adorable dongsaeng coming through... Hyuuuuuuung, why are you always so busy? We don't spend time together anymore! You should take me out tonight or else I'll start calling you 'that bad man who used to be my hyung but never had the time'. You should take me out tonight or else I'm telling mom," he finished with a pointed glance at Taec.
"Ah, but Junho-yah, I don't have time tonight!" Minjun teased and laughed loudly when Junho shoved him playfully. "Fine, if you insist then I guess we can go grab a bite to eat after rehearsals."
"Yay! Thanks hyung!" Junho said, grateful in more ways than one.
"What was that all about?" Wooyoung asked when Junho rejoined the fray and Minjun took Taecyeon aside for a bit of tonal coaching.
"Just a bit of brotherly love, I guess."
"Ah," Wooyoung said, somewhat disappointed. "I was thinking of going out tonight with you and Chansung. You know, Young Boy team and all that. But I guess I missed you by a minute."
Speak of the giant, Chansung overheard his name and went over to them. "I can't tonight, hyung, already got plans," he said as he tried to lick Junho's shoulder and ended up with a facefull of sweaty palm.
Wooyoung sniffed bitterly. "Nobody loves me."
"True," said Junho.
"Not true!" Chansung insisted and hugged a protesting Wooyoung. Junho winced; Chansung's hugs were how other people defined 'football tackle'.
~
It was only a quick glimpse through the lightly tinted windows of a car passing right outside their building, but Junho liked to think that he knew his best friend well enough. The person in the passenger seat, on the other hand, was familiar in the most unsettling of ways.
A quiet exchange of texts over dinner.
Pssst. Wooyoungie. They're together again.
what then a few seconds later who
Chansung looks really serious about her. I'm worried.
yah live and let live remember
Cafe Terrace at Night
Minjun was not a hyung by nature.
Yes, he was the eldest, but that didn't mean he knew how to act like a hyung: he was too brash, too tactless, too self-conscious to ever spare emotional strength for those people who just happened to be born a handful of years later. Minjun was a man of partial victories, of halfway successes, of unfulfilled dreams wrought by adolescent frustration and hidden by poorly disguised humility.
But all these unflattering things - and there were many more unflattering things - were tempered by one redeeming grace: Minjun was a man of faith. Maybe not in any particular deity, per se, but he had faith. And when you had faith, you had everything.
In the end, more than anyone else in the group, more than Taecyeon and Nichkhun, it was Minjun who understood the value of the self. It was Minjun who understood that the greater Korean community that focused so strongly on communal harmony relied on the individual encompassing selves who pursued shared dreams of peace. And that in turn, all this harmony can be disrupted by a single self who grew up the wrong way.
Minjun knew what it meant to have no one else to rely on. That, of all things, was the core of his seldom-seen wisdom.
"You should start dating again," Minjun told him over dinner in some out of the way hole in the wall place that served too sweet iced tea and too salty crackers and the best spicy fish soup Junho ever had. "Hasn't it been long enough? You shouldn't just mope like this and pollute the air with your surly negativity. It's ruining my vibes, man, I can't write music like this."
Though there were also times like these when Minjun could make everyone want to roll their eyes. "Hyung. I can't start dating yet, it's only been-"
"-two weeks, yes, I know," Minjun sighed in exasperation. "You remind us every time anyone even vaguely mentions dating. How would you feel if Nichkhun were to start seeing other people?"
Junho narrowed his eyes. He usually didn't do this; his eyes were narrow enough as it is. "Are you pitting me against him?"
Minjun shrugged without a trace of guilt. "I thought it would be helpful."
Junho pointedly put his spoon down and leaned in to stare Minjun in the eyes. "Hyung. This break up isn't a competition. We didn't break up just so we can tear each other down."
"I wouldn't know," Minjun said delicately. "I never knew why you broke up in the first place. I thought you were perfect for each other."
Two sentences that carried so much truth. Two sentences that kept spinning inside Junho's head, never stopping even after the words were gone.
"We were, weren't we." It wasn't a question. There were nights - there were many nights - when Junho, spent and exhausted from days without rest, wanted nothing more than to collapse against Khun and fall deep into unmoving sleep. And Khun was always there, always ready to catch him, always ready to wrap him in his arms and Junho felt there was no place safer than where he found himself.
They were perfect. A traitorous thought.
"But we broke up for a reason," Junho said, reminding both Minjun and himself that there was a deeper truth than immediate perfection. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, hyung, but just. Let it go, okay?"
Minjun frowned but said nothing more. He fished out some slices of squid from his soup and spooned them into Junho's bowl, and Junho felt that was as good an answer as any.
~
"Hey," Junho greeted from Nichkhun's bedroom door when he got home. "Going out?"
"What makes you say that?" Nichkhun asked.
Junho smirked. There was even humor in it. Or maybe he was just well fed. "You mean between the oversized sunglasses at night, the non-thread worn beanie, the new shirt, and the fact that you're pulling on pants?" Junho pointed out.
"Oh, that," Nichkhun chided with his easy laughter. It had been a while since Junho last heard that. "I just thought a night out would be nice." He pulled his jeans fully on, buckled his belt, and looked at Junho with a question in those doe eyes.
"Looks like it's going to be a very nice night out," Junho teased. "You look very nice, too."
"Thanks," Nichkhun said. He held out his arms, not exactly an invitation for a hug but definitely an invitation to come closer. "It's the van Gogh exhibit. Tonight's the opening gala. Remember? We made plans."
"That was tonight?" Junho didn't know whether to feel relieved or abandoned. Nichkhun had been excited for that exhibit, talked about it non-stop until Junho got the hint and said fine, let's go see it and Nichkhun admitted he already got the tickets. They made plans and of course those plans went to hell.
And now Khun was going to see it with someone else.
"I don't have a force field, you know," Nichkhun said, misinterpreting the sudden blankness in Junho's eyes. "You can come closer. I don't want to have to talk to you from the doorway for the rest of our lives."
Junho laughed, some tension dissipated, and took careful steps in.
The room was full of the smell of Nichkhun, that easy musk of a young man who worked out a lot and ate plenty of meat.
There had been a time back at the beginning when Junho couldn't stand being close to Khun. Foreigners, he'd learned early, were different not just in how they looked and how they sounded: they also ate different things and their bodies worked in subtly different ways, meaning naturally they smelled differently too. To Junho's all-Korean nose (and there was no flattering way to say this) Nichkhun smelled like eggs.
But time passed and people grew closer. Maybe it was the change in diet or maybe people really can get used to new things. All Junho knew was that after a while Nichkhun's smell wasn't as offensive and a shorter while later he didn't even notice it at all.
Then more time passed and people grew closer still. And by then he started noticing Nichkhun's smell once more, but this time it did other things to him, pleasant things lost in not so quiet candlelit nights.
Old habits were hard to break. They still were, in the end, men in their youth.
They say that smell is the most primal of all senses. They say that smell is the most directly linked to memory.
Junho flicked imaginary lint off Nichkhun's shoulder, all the while looking into those eyes he'd grown accustomed waking up to everyday.
Nichkhun's hand rose and Junho expected him to brush him away, to re-establish the privacy of Nichkhun's personal space. And maybe that was the intention. But when their hands touched, when it was skin against skin, Junho felt the pressure in Nichkhun's fingers change. And there their hands stayed.
Too much, this moment, for a heart Junho had never learned to control once he'd given it to someone else. "I miss you. I miss... us."
Nichkhun said nothing. He kept his hand there and didn't move away, let months of learned behavior take over and closed his eyes and let Junho lean in and Junho didn't think about mistakes because maybe this wasn't one, this still felt right.
Nichkhun was just there. So close. Too close. So easy to... step back. A belated realization that, inconvenient reality aside, Nichkhun was wearing the cologne that Junho gave him for their hundredth day. The one that Nichkhun only wore when they went out.
The realization was a punch to the gut.
"Go," Junho said, forcing a smile on his face and refusing to be bitter. "Have fun. You deserve a night out. Adore the irises for me."
"Junho..."
More steps back, surrounding himself with a careful armor as brittle as graphite. "I have stuff to do. Music to write. And things. There are lots of things."
Nichkhun nodded, and unlike Junho he had no qualms about letting the conflict show all over his face. "Yeah. I guess. Get some sleep, okay?"
"I will," Junho said, and Nichkhun left.
Strange that something like this sapped him of every reserve of strength. Strange that the proximity that had given him inspiration before, this same proximity that made the blood in his veins burn with desire now left his knees shaking and his world spinning and all he could do was grab on to the dresser and slowly sit on Chansung's unused bed.
One day maybe Junho will be proud that he had the maturity and self-control to stop himself. Then again, maybe that was too far into the future, maybe it wouldn't come at all. Tonight all he could think about was how unfair life was that Nichkhun had already taken the first steps to moving on, but the best Junho could do was linger.
~
Three knocks on a different bedroom door. "Hyung? Are you awake?"
"Yeah?" two voices answered. "You have to be more specific," Minjun's voice followed up right as he opened the door. Behind him Junho saw Taecyeon half sitting up and watching them with his fingers still on his laptop.
The hyungs. Troublemakers by their own rights, but hyungs exactly when you needed them to be.
"I guess I just want to say that you're right," Junho confessed. "You'll be seeing a new me starting tomorrow."
If he hadn't headed to his room right after his declaration, if he had stayed just a few seconds more, he would have heard Taecyeon's voice rumble "That was worrying. What happened?" and Minjun placate him with "It's fine, everything's going to work out."
~
Junho liked to get lost in the crowd.
Most days, it was impossible. There were just too many eyes.
Sometimes, Junho just didn't care.
~
There was catharsis in photography. There was catharsis in watching birds fly, the most renowned symbol of freedom.
Then there must be, Junho reasoned, greater catharsis in both.
When he started receiving regular paychecks one of the first things he saved up for was his own professional wildlife camera - a small gift to himself after years of blood and sweat and tears lost to the stage, a small peace offering to the Lee Junho that lived beneath the makeup and never shone under the spotlight. This Junho was the Junho of his childhood, a boy who liked to chase leaves in the wind and sketch medieval weaponry in the margins of his notebook and stare out the classroom window and watch birds take flight.
But idol life was not kind. Chasing leaves turned to chasing dreams, sketching swords turned to jotting down notes about upcoming variety shows, and watching birds... mercy of mercies, watching birds developed to catching still images of them up close.
Seoul had too few genuine birds of prey visiting the capital. When 2PM wasn't filming in remote locations, Junho contented himself with taking pictures of pigeons in the park.
It was a small thing, but small things were the beginnings of happiness. It was the one thing he kept to himself, a little club exclusively for Lee Junho. The members knew about his little hobby and they likewise knew that none of them were invited to partake in the few hours Junho spent to indulge childhood joys.
He liked to find secluded places in the suburbs where he could toss breadcrumbs everywhere. The pigeons came, Junho had hours of fun. One of the members had once used Junho's computer to search for elementary schools, and when Junho pulled up the browsing history he found a map to a little rustic playground that seemed suitably anonymous.
It was in this little playground, on a day off he'd begged to have from management, where Junho found his camera lens focusing neither on the pigeons that gathered around him nor on the children noisily waging war on the jungle gym, but on the couple sitting on a secluded bench half hidden by overgrown bushes under the shade of city trees.
Maybe it was the intimacy, the way his arms were casually wrapped around her shoulders and they sat there talking like they had no care in the world. But Junho had no time to be jealous because maybe it was how the guy wore a fully zipped up hoodie under the heat of the noontime sun with oversized sunglasses that just screamed "idol" in seven different languages.
Or maybe it was pieces of the puzzle fitting together with a nearly audible click.
Stalking quietly and not making any sound was a skill known only to idols worth their salt. Junho had learned to sneak out with the best of them.
A gentle pat on the back, unexpected enough that the idol whirled around defensively and grabbed Junho's wrist in that grip that Junho could identify anytime, anywhere. "Chansungie. Annyeong," he greeted coldly, his smile deathly serious, his other hand waving a friendly greeting that dripped rivers of irony.
"Junho," Chansung gasped, his face paling in fear. "What are- you aren't supposed to be here-"
"I should go," the girl said, and Junho glared at her with thoughts of Gee, you think?, but Chansung let Junho go and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"No, Hyeseul, you should stay," Chansung implored her. "We'll go, we're the ones who shouldn't be here."
"It's a public place," Junho pointed out. "We have every right to be here. Like she does. Don't we, Hyeseul-sshi?" and maybe the way he said her name dripped with a tiny bit of venom.
"Junho, come on man, don't make this difficult," Chansung said, standing up and trying to pull Junho away but Junho was having none of this. He tried to squirm out of Chansung's grasp, but behind Chansung's strength was a lifetime of martial arts. Muscles that weren't just for show plus all the discipline needed to make the most of every movement.
"Chansung, let go-"
"Mom!" a kid yelled as he broke out from the crowd and ran towards them. "Why is your friend fighting this ahjusshi?"
She would have been a fine actress, Junho thought, as Hyeseul's eyes filled with a kind of worry too deep to name. She took her son in her arms and left hurriedly, without a word, without a backward glance. Not that Junho was in any state of mind to follow her, not that he could have followed her if he wanted to, not with Chansung holding on to his arm without any intention of letting go. But all that was secondary to the frustration that welled up from deep in Junho's gut, weeks of tossing and turning in his bed about how he lost Khun and now he's about to lose Chansung as well.
He could have offered so many reasons.
In the end, it all boiled down to a simplification of everything.
Junho had a bad few weeks and enough was enough.
"Chansung," Junho hissed. "My best friend. Who I sincerely want to punch in the face right now. You're dating a single mom? What were you thinking?"
"Shhhh!" Chansung shushed him urgently. There were no other parents nearby but some of the kids had stopped their games of pretend and were watching them unabashed. Soon enough the other parents and guardians would spot two grown men making a scene.
Angry as he was, Junho could still see sense. He let himself be dragged off quietly seething as Chansung led him away from the privacy of that secluded playground.
"I should explain," Chansung said in the safety of a hastily hailed cab.
"Go ahead. I'm thrilled know how you thought it was a good idea to date someone who's not only not an idol, but also happens to have a six year old son."
Chansung shot a quick glance at their cab driver, but the man was too busy enjoying the music of Baek Jiyoung to pay any attention to them. "Listen," Chansung hissed. "Just because you're having a lousy few weeks doesn't mean you get to take it all out on me, okay? Just because you and Khun-hyung broke up doesn't mean we all have to wallow in being single."
Junho waved Chansung's protests away, regardless of the truth they carried. "That's not what this is about. This is about you, number one: dating someone who's going to get hell from our fans for even spending time with you, and number two: she has a son. Or did that fact escape your common sense as well?"
Chansung was a saint. That much Junho can attest to with the way Chansung patiently shook his head and just let Junho's anger go. "Let's not talk about this right now, there's something I want to show you first."
Junho folded his arms and stewed all the way home.
~
"This isn't just about dating anymore." Back in the dorm, in the privacy of Nichkhun's and Chansung's shared room, Chansung unlatched his foot locker and pawed at its unruly contents. "If I say I'm serious about her, will you believe me?"
The silent ride back had given the anger time to cool. "We're not that old. Serious for us is, what? Being exclusive for a year? Like that?"
Chansung's smirk was way too smug for Junho's comfort. "Catch."
Junho caught the red and white blur just before it hit his face. Junho stared at the thing in his hands and let out a guffaw of disbelief. "A pokeball? Really serious, Chan, very mature."
Chansung shrugged Junho's humor away. "So she likes video games, so what? Open it."
Junho pressed the button at the ball's equator. An audible click and the top red half swung open at the hinge. Junho found himself staring at a gift far more serious than that time Nichkhun booked a weekend in Jeju with him and his sisters.
This was no mere promise ring. This was the real thing, gemstone and all.
"Your confidence in being together forever is touching," Junho said flatly. So much more he wanted to say but no chance to find the right words. He closed the pokeball, knowing that if he didn't tear his eyes away right now from the gift that was probably worth more than his entire camera equipment he would stare at it in disbelief the whole night long. "Still, I can't seem to shake the feeling that you're dead set on making the biggest mistake of your life."
"Mistake?" Chansung asked, coldly uncertain. Like Junho shouldn't have said that.
Oh but once the dam had broken the words were hard to stop. Junho tossed the pokeball back. "We have so much ahead of us. We're slowly climbing to the top of the world, there's no telling where we could end up going. And here you are, already thinking about settling down and getting married and taking care of her son? Chansung, we're a team. We're 2PM. The only way we can make it is if we stay strong as a group."
Chansung kept the ball back in his footlocker with a pensive expression on his face. The lock clicked and he sat on his bed that he hadn't used for so long. "Junho, when have I ever let you guys down?"
Never, Junho wanted to say, but he was sure Chansung already knew the answer.
There was clarity in Chansung's eyes, a form of sincerity he never really managed to project for the camera. But Junho saw it now, that gaze that stripped Chansung of every pretension and laid his soul bare. "I'll be with you guys every step of the way. I promised her that, and this time I'll promise it to you too. I'll keep climbing and one day I will be at the top. But it won't be just for her. And as much as I love you guys, it won't be for you, too. Junho, you're one of my best friends in the whole world and I love you. But there's one thing I need you to understand: my son is not a mistake."
The last few words overrode every bit of anger Junho had in his veins, chilling him to his bones. "Your... son? Your son?"
Chansung shrugged, like it was no big deal. He laid down on his bed and patted the small space beside him and Junho decided why the heck not, this was his best friend, he missed this, it was okay for him to climb in. Chansung was physically affectionate. He always found it easier to relate with people if he could touch them, as if his nerves could wire themselves directly to other people's thoughts through the contact of their skin. "We were fifteen. We didn't know any better. She always kicked my ass whenever we sparred. She still could, actually. One thing led to another and... well, five months later she had to drop out of school and I had to promise both our parents that we won't let it ruin our lives. That we'd stand up for ourselves."
He winked at Junho, self-mocking and completely aware of it. "So I tried to be an idol. Unlike you guys, I was just in it for the money. I lost Superstar Survival and thought, well, that was it. Then we got signed in for Hot Blood and she broke up with me because she didn't want the complications of raising a son with an idol dad. I mean, raising a kid as a teenager was complicated enough, right? She said she didn't want her private life exposed. And we haven't been together ever since." Chansung stared at the ceiling even as his fingers absentmindedly rubbed the sliver of skin that showed between Junho's shirt and his pants. It was the kind of touch that would have made Junho's mind burn with want had he been in bed with Nichkhun... but this was Chansung, and Chansung's touches were always more about connection and reassurance.
"But you know what?" Chansung said after a pause. "I always knew she broke up with me so I could focus on succeeding as an idol. So I didn't have to worry about milk and diapers and stuff. I mean, our families accepted it and took care of them because they're awesome like that and I always gave half my paycheck to her, but I just knew deep down that she was stronger than I ever could be. Idol life is easy, you know."
Junho bristled at that, thinking that Chansung must be joking because how could he call a life like this easy?
But perspective forced its way in and Junho just couldn't imagine being so young and having another life be so dependent on him on top of school and keeping secrets and maybe working part time to make up for the additional expenses. And letting dreams go because reality was not kind.
"I told her that one day I'll no longer be an idol," Chansung continued, "and I can tell the world that I have a son. Then I'll give her that ring and we can be together again and I can give them the family they deserve."
But then again, maybe some dreams were worth more than others. Maybe some dreams had to give way so greater dreams could come true.
Junho scrambled out of Chansung's grip, pretending alarm and straddling Chansung's hips, leaning in so they were practically nose to nose. "So this is your big secret? This is why you're so calm and collected all the time? Why you're always so driven?"
"Being a dad put a lot of things in perspective," Chansung admitted uneasily.
Junho relented and leaned back. "You've grown up so quickly."
"Yeah." Chansung's voice was heartbreakingly wistful. "Sometimes I wish I didn't. But. Well. I have a son. And his mother loves him very much. And I can be happy with them. My biggest mistake is that I can't be there to be his father."
"Maybe someday."
"Yeah, maybe someday things will go my way. I'll be there when it does." Chansung reached up and squeezed Junho's cheeks. "And I'll have my awesome best friend right there beside me."
The bedroom door opened. Nichkhun walked in and barely blinked at the scene, ignoring the compromising sight on the bed because this was Junho and Chansung, they had their own special rules. "I've been looking for you two all day."
"Really? Me too?" Chansung asked from beneath Junho.
Nichkhun's chagrin was honest. "Well. More Junho, actually. But I did wonder what you were up to."
Chansung laughed, pushed Junho off him and rolled out of bed. "Since Khun-hyung isn't really here to talk to me," Chansung said pointedly because Junho could be dense when he wanted to be, "I'll just get out of your way, okay?"
"No, you can stay," Nichkhun insisted. Then to Junho, "The van Gogh exhibit. I was wondering if you'd like to see it with me."
Junho and Chansung shared a glance, the latter in approving surprise and the former in apprehension, before Junho nodded and said, "Sure, let me just get my coat."
Starry Night
The date, if it was a date, was so very Nichkhun: striving hard for classical beauty but ending up having the popular experience.
"Tell me what you see," Nichkhun asked of him as they stopped in front of a painting so well known that even Junho knew he was looking at a masterpiece.
Swirling colors of blue and yellow. A cultural icon imprinted in the subconscious of almost anyone who had access to television or the internet.
Junho read the placard beneath the canvas. "It says here that van Gogh found religion about the same time he made this painting." Junho raised his eyes and the brushstrokes seemed to move. It was a mastery of lines, how the edges of the buildings melted to the gentle curves of the trees and hills, and above them the night sky swirled in its infinite dance of cloud and stars. Junho thought it was a perfect representation of why so many artists were nocturnal by nature.
"That's what the historians say," Nichkhun said. "What does Junho say?"
Junho rolled his eyes, exasperated in more ways than one. "Khun, I'm a singer. I can pull symbolism off any music video you can throw at me. But I can't say anything about a piece like this. I'm not the kind of person who can, okay?"
"I'm not asking for a critique," Nichkhun insisted. "What do you see in the painting, Junho?"
He could just refuse to answer. Junho knew that Nichkhun would let it go if he refused to answer just one more time. But this was Nichkhun; he would simmer slowly about it on the way home and Junho would end up looking for the painting again on the internet and going to Khun before they turned in for the night and just say a few words to put both their minds at ease.
But Nichkhun had gone through all the trouble to take them here, had gone through the trouble to swallow the awkwardness to take him here, so this meant more than just exposure to western high culture. With Nichkhun, it was almost never about himself; it was almost always about other people.
Just because they had broken up didn't mean they couldn't trust each other.
What the hell, maybe he could pretend to be cultured every once in a while.
"I think this is an expression of faith," Junho gave in after contemplative silence. "The swirling lights of the stars, the peace of the hills... it's like God is making a promise of protection to the people sleeping in this town."
Nichkhun nodded at him to go on.
"He saw how the people there loved each other and cared for each other, so God gave them one of his greatest gifts. He gave them a moment of peace." Junho peered at Nichkhun, just in time to catch the troubled furrow of his eyebrows before he put himself on guard once more. "Why? What do you see?"
"Something very different," Nichkhun admitted sheepishly.
"Go on."
Nichkhun put his hands in his pockets and leaned back, trying to shrink into himself, looking like he was trying to avoid Junho's judgment. "When I saw this earlier this week, I thought-" he grinned at Junho, a little silliness directed at himself "-I saw an attack."
A corner of Junho's lips quirked up in amusement.
"God," Nichkhun continued, "was angered when he saw how meanly the people in this town treated each other. So God sent his light to stop the people from hurting each other more."
"So God decided to destroy the town?"
Nichkhun shuffled his feet. "That's how I saw it a few days ago."
"You brought me here so you could tell me a story about divine apocalypse?" Junho pointed at the square of canvas that cost so much more than their whole group had ever made. "In a painting as beautiful as this? Really, hyung?"
Nichkhun shook his head vehemently. He was frustrated, but somehow Junho felt the frustration wasn't directed at him. "No, I brought you here so I could tell myself that we couldn't be friends anymore. Junho, this painting made me realize just how angry I was all the time. I thought I'd been handling it well. I thought I'd been handling us well. But when I saw this painting I realized that I could barely see any good in anything anymore. Even in something like this. I looked at something so beautiful - this promise of protection and gift of peace - and all I saw was anger. And honestly? I thought that was what you'd see, too. I thought we'd never be friends because we're both too angry to see the good in things and set things right." Nichkhun took Junho's hand, not caring if they were in public or not.
"Junho. Thank you. For proving me wrong."
Nichkhun had always needed reassurance that what he had around him was real, that his reality was not just idle imagining. Junho squeezed his hand - it was the best he could give for now - and let go. "You handled it better than I did," Junho admitted. "It's better for a man to be angry than be defeated. But. I guess we both needed this."
"Defeated?" Nichkhun asked uncertainly.
"If you took me here earlier, I'd have said entirely different things. You caught me at a good time." Junho bumped their shoulders together. "So. I guess this means that maybe someday in the future, or maybe even tomorrow, who knows... we could be friends again? Maybe?"
Nichkhun smiled slowly at him, again that slow sunrise that banished the night and worry from his eyes, that smile that always made Junho feel gentle sunlight on his skin. That smile that Junho hadn't seen for what felt like years. Nichkhun gave him that smile as a promise of peace and said, "I'd like that."
~
They came home to a scene of chaos, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. 2PM had always been the beastliest of the idol groups.
"Where have you two been?" Wooyoung asked from atop Taec's back. Taec himself had Chansung trapped in a headlock whereas Chansung looked like he was trying to bite Taec's wrists but was ultimately failing because was Wooyoung pulling his hair.
Off to the side, Minjun busily played Mario Kart.
"Do we even want to know?" Nichkhun asked, gesturing to the tangle of limbs composed of half their band.
"Bet gone awry," Minjun explained. "You guys hungry?"
Nichkhun and Junho shared a glance and answered at the same time, "Nah, we're good."
Later that night with everyone sleeping the sleep of the exhausted and the dorm was quiet and Chansung's snores were deafeningly loud, Junho stood before a door hand raised and decided against knocking.
"Thanks, hyung," he whispered, and went back to his room.
And maybe it was unrelated. Maybe he was talking in his sleep thanks to dreams about dancing on gigantic piano keys made of glittering white gold. Maybe he was reliving days of half-successes and trying to escape the nightmares of haunting failures. Maybe all of these in the quiet of his room, "You're welcome, dongsaeng," Minjun mumbled in his sleep.
Or maybe? Maybe he just had faith.
Author: verocity
Rating: G
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: past Junho/Khun
Summary: This is not a story about breaking up. This is a story about what must happen after.
Author's Note: My original entry for kpop-olymfics 2013 cycle, originally posted here. Team Cry, I love you so much. I hope you know that.
Word Count: 10,642 words
There once was a time - during the rage of adolescent hormones and before he learned that there were bigger things - when Junho thought this was the penultimate lesson of literature: a steady love that weathered the years and seared the trails of memory with burning passion was only memorable when it ended. Take literature, like Romeo and Juliet. Take celebrities from overseas, like Justin and Jessica. Take music and lyrics, like the popularity of vindictive breakup songs versus the obscurity of lyrics about genuine happiness. Take so many other people from right within the community, as if married couples who stayed strong were given as a fact of life but parents who divorced were discussed in public and merited its own statistics. Fact: people bitterly celebrated apartness.
If they'd loved and truly loved, no one will remember. But if they'd loved and failed even if the love was true, no one will forget.
Love and togetherness were fiction. Loving and parting ways were in your face every day.
Take people like himself. Like Junho and Nichkhun.
"Your melancholy is suffocating." On the other hand, Wooyoung's acidic commentary was as real as death and taxes.
Junho grinned emptily at him from across the bar table, white teeth gleaming palely in the dim lighting. "How much sympathy will 'You don't understand, you've never been in love' get me?"
"Sympathy?" Wooyoung scoffed. "That will get you full-hearted dismissal."
"I knew I can always rely on you for honesty." And it was true. If he ever compiled a list of ways people would describe Wooyoung, 'honest' would be right up there alongside 'anti-social' and 'tactless at times', with 'brutally' being an adjective to all three.
It was a fact of life. Wooyoung was Wooyoung. "Besides, it's not like you and Khun had a huge fight or anything," he continued. "It was all very peaceful. Very mature."
Junho suspiciously cocked an eyebrow. "And how would you know? Hyung, were you eavesdropping on us?"
Wooyoung flicked a bottle cap at his forehead. "You jerk, say thanks when someone gives you a compliment. I thought you were mature. I never even think anyone is mature these days."
"Thanks then," Junho indulged him and lapsed into silence.
It was true, though. The end - or at least the way they'd ended it - was very mature. It was very quiet. It was a mutual agreement. It was, in Junho's loving opinion, full of bullshit.
"He didn't tell me what happened," Wooyoung said pre-emptively as if he could read right into Junho's mind. "Just so you know. I mean, he told me it was over between the two of you and that was it." Wooyoung shrugged. "I asked. He just wouldn't say."
"I appreciate the reassurance. We wanted it to have as little impact on the group as possible."
Somehow, Wooyoung's sardonic grin wasn't all that reassuring. "Oh, Junho-yah, you are still such a naïve little boy."
~
And that was it, although Wooyoung's condescension wasn't easy to appreciate. Junho was still an amateur (or immature? he wondered once) in the grand scheme of things - popularity and singing and dancing and knowing how to sparkle didn't mean he'd learned how to live. Having the love and support of a hundred thousand fans didn't mean he in turn automatically knew how to love a single person.
He was an idol. He could belt songs and thrust hips and shine under the spotlight like the best of them. But all that took time. Too much time. Too many hours vocalizing and stretching and putting on make-up with the same core group of six and the same battalion of support personnel under the guidance of the same visionary management, and what all that meant was a boy who smiled when the world was watching but was ready to fall to pieces when the only eyes trained on him were his own.
You could hide plenty of things from the fans, from management, from the rest of the group. But an honest man hid nothing from himself. And Junho? He took honesty to his soul.
What he saw when he looked into the mirror - past all the foundation and mascara and eyeliner and premature wrinkles - was a little man who was afraid he would grow up alone, a man who was scared that no matter what he did no one would love him in a way he would find concretely meaningful.
Funnily enough, Junho wasn't the only one who felt this way.
Looking back at this after all these months passed, Junho had one word for it all.
Misguided.
Night Cafe
"Do you think he really loved me?" Junho asked, back in the present and very determinedly getting hammered. Except that Junho couldn't really do 'hammered'; the taste of alcohol was already enough to knock him out for the rest of the night and although that sounded inviting it's not a fate he would wish on Wooyoung.
Compromise? According to Taec: when it came to matters of heartbreak alcohol was good but chocolate was better. Junho, ever logical, decided that having both at once would be perfect: order a milkshake then add a generous serving of chocolate Mudslide. An elegant solution.
Wooyoung's smile was less warm and more a threatening baring of teeth. "If you won't start using non-gender-specific pronouns in public, I'm going to shove this bottle down your throat," he hissed, those charming lips barely moving.
Junho ignored him. He was having one of those moments. "I mean, how can I tell? Doesn't it mean something that we were so coolly rational? When other people would have at least cried, manliness notwithstanding? Hell, hyung, we even shook hands! He cried when Jay left, didn't he? Did I not mean as much? Was I not worth the tears?"
"Self-pity is not a good look on you," Wooyoung gritted out even as his eyes scanned the crowd for eavesdroppers. Knowing exactly how far one's voice carried in public was a little known idol skill. So was zeroing in on any break in the crowd that could be paparazzi taking a picture. "Did you cry?" All clear.
It was Junho's turn to scoff. "Of course not."
"And the reason for this double-standard is?"
"Hey, I've always been the calm, collected, stoic one," Junho pointed out. "Khun-hyung is supposed to be the emotional do-gooder, remember? He reads Coelho. He's the one who planned everything we did together." Like that time when they skipped on a night out with the rest of the guys for a book date. Junho was already twelve pages into Eleven Minutes before Minjun and Chansung dragged them both out of bed by their ankles and badgered them into dressing up to go clubbing. Taecyeon thought they were in a rut. Junho thought it was a good thing.
Still, they had fun. They didn't mention that they were just waiting for everyone to get out of the dorm so they could have a different kind of fun, but the guys meant well and that meant a lot.
"All I can say is this," Wooyoung interrupted his memories, "you have hidden depths. People think you have hidden depths because you don't show much on the surface so they think, 'hey, that guy must be deep'. But not all guys with blank expressions are profound. Some could just be empty. Am I right?"
Junho nodded slowly, uncertainly. "Yes? I'm with you so far."
"Then doesn't it follow that not all emotional people show everything on the surface? That in the end it's a matter of individuality?"
Well. That was... something. Junho stared at Wooyoung like he'd been living with a stranger all this time. "Wow, hyung. I never knew you were a closet humanist. What's next, a decree on the indomitability of the human spirit? Should I prepare myself for a treatise on overcoming societal influences on behavior?"
Wooyoung stuck his tongue out at him. "Just because I believe in people doesn't mean I have to like them. But back on point: you're you, he's him. It's that simple. I will dunk your head in boiling water if I have to spell it out for you."
"Your concern for your dongsaeng's well-being is very heart-warming," Junho sniffed. Wooyoung meant well, even if his definition of affection differed greatly from the norm. But then Wooyoung's brand of tough love was tiring. The truth was something everyone needed to hear and that was his excuse for wielding it like a club. Talking to Wooyoung about love and life meant taking a break every few minutes to indulge in something mindless.
The timing was perfect. Another lesser-known idol skill: watching the crowd and picking out disguised idols who were doing their best to blend in. Something about being in the public eye all the time resonated across body language, an oblique form of camaraderie.
Junho nodded at the main entrance where a tall figure wearing a trench coat two seasons out of date and a fedora (which was tragic all on its own) walked in with practiced nonchalance. "Looks like we're not alone tonight," Junho said with forced distracted interest on his face.
Wooyoung's eyes flicked neatly at the same direction. "DBSK?" he whispered.
Junho ran his mind through his extensive list of colleagues before a silent itching at the back of his head threw the stranger in new light. Something about the way he walked, the set of those shoulders, the angle of his neck as he kept his head down... "No, I don't think so."
"Look at his date," Wooyoung hissed vehemently.
Junho looked and subsequently nodded his approval. "She's pretty."
"She's not an idol," Wooyoung pointed out.
"Not all pretty girls are in our industry, hyung," Junho chided. Wooyoung sniffed but kept further remarks to himself. Junho continued, "I think it's great. We should all remember that we're all just kids, and that we should date whoever we want."
"There is a difference," Wooyoung reminded him, "and it all boils down to this: we're under contract."
Junho raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "I don't think the contract has clauses limiting affairs of the heart," he deadpanned.
"Did you read the fine print?" Wooyoung shot back then sniggered when Junho's face suddenly scrunched up with worry. "Stop messing around, Junho, your idealism is leading you blindly. There's nothing stopping us from dating non-idols except common sense and reality."
Junho grumbled incoherently but offered no further resistance.
It was a reality he'd long ago learned to accept. Idols didn't date non-idols because it wasn't healthy for their career. Or for their image. Or for the relationship. Or for the non-idol. There were countless stories. And those stories weren't about faceless people whose existence relied only on dubious word of mouth: Junho knew people- he had friends whom the company glossed over because they were more devoted to their relationships than to rehearsals. A sign of weakness. A trainee who had a girlfriend couldn't be trusted to succeed.
This was the unspoken rule that the industry imposed: you're free to love, but do it at home behind locked doors and tinted windows and - if possible - underground. Bring your love in public? Then be ready to face a permanent exit.
And what was worse, romance threatened more than just a single person's career. Idol groups relied heavily on the collective image: the members were idols first, friends second.
Romance threatened all that. Friendship rarely survived when lifelong dreams were at risk. Between the two, kicking out friends was easier than kicking out dreams.
That was why Junho and Nichkhun kept their relationship as private as they could. That was why they didn't tell anyone, why they kept the group from finding out as long as they could, why they held out until Taec made the inevitable discovery and even then they kept their matters to themselves.
In the end, he didn't want this to ruin his friends.
Junho didn't like it. Just because he followed it didn't mean he liked it one bit.
Something must have shown on his face. "You support them, don't you?" Wooyoung asked gently. "You support this couple you don't even know, just on the grounds that you believe everyone is free to seek their own happiness."
Junho's defiant smirk said it all. "If they're in love, hyung, nothing else matters."
For all his mastery of the empty expression, Wooyoung found it hard to stop his lips from twitching into a smile. Junho knew that it was during times like these when Wooyoung was being genuine, when he was being careful not to let anything show but he cracked at the edges and his real warmth shone through. Rare moments, these, which Junho learned to cherish.
But the spell broke and Wooyoung's eyes flicked away for an instant. Then the warmth was gone and all the sour humor returned, and Junho's mood turned from cherishing to on guard with the practice of ease.
"Junho-goonie. Our Junho," Wooyoung began carefully and that was it, the alarm bells went into overdrive in Junho's head. "I'm glad you support them," he said simply.
Junho turned in his seat, all decorum forgotten, dread pooling heavily in his gut.
And across the bar the disguised idol sat with his date, only now he wasn't so disguised without the fedora. But even before the visual recognition recent memories clicked into place: the familiarity in the stranger's walk and stance and stature - he saw it every day.
Junho watched his best friend stare longingly into his date's eyes, all care in the world forgotten, wearing on his face an expression of perfect bliss.
Everyone else can screw themselves. Tonight, there were only two people in Chansung's life. Tonight, he was at the top of the world.
~
"He lied to us!"
"Gee, thanks for not overreacting," Wooyoung said flatly as they walked to the taxi bay under Seoul's familiar starless night.
"I'm not overreacting," Junho practically warbled. "I'm just affronted, which is a perfectly normal reaction because Chansung lied to us! He said he had a birthday party to go to!"
"Well," Wooyoung carefully considered. "Maybe it's her birthday and he's treating her out?"
"I fail to see the party," Junho insisted. "And I didn't see cake. It's not a birthday party if there's no cake."
"So he's on a date. It's not a big deal. I thought you supported them. And it could be worse! She could be... I dunno. A manager from a different company or something. Or a single mom. She could be a dominatrix!"
Junho grabbed Wooyoung's hand and squeezed hard, hoping that maybe a bit of pain would bring Wooyoung to his senses. "Hyung. This is Chansung we're talking about. Our Chansung. On a date with someone who's not an idol! And who knows, maybe tomorrow he'll quit 2PM and get married and forget all about us!"
"Ah. So that's what this is about. You're bothered that Chansung's dating outside of the industry."
"Of course that's not what this is about! Where have you been the past few minutes? This is about not breaking the group up!"
"So you mean to tell me," Wooyoung said carefully as he hailed a cab, "that you supported him when you thought he was just any other idol and not 'our Chansung'."
"Yes! Wait, that's not-"
Wooyoung put his arm around Junho's shoulder and hugged tight, both for affection and for the warmth against the night's cold. "Wow. When you were born, did the doctors have to pry your foot from your biiiiiig mouth? Just be glad I'm the tolerant type, Junho-sshi," Wooyoung told him sweetly. "Or else I'd have been severely disappointed in your principles. Now get in the cab before you ruin your life further."
~
Like the best friend that he was, Junho didn't mention anything to Chansung throughout the following day. Not directly, anyway.
"So how was the party?" he asked the bathroom mirror thickly while he brushed his teeth and Chansung shaved beside him.
"It was okay. Typical birthday party, you've seen one you've seen them all," Chansung said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, making sure he didn't end up with a Joker smile first thing in the morning.
"Do you think we'll ever get to dance in a trench coat?" Junho asked as the wardrobe coordinator handed them today's poor excuse for a fashion statement.
"What, all of us in one trench coat?" Chansung asked, grimacing in concentration as he struggled to fit into a too tight tank top made of unyielding leather.
"I went on a date last night," Junho confided quietly as a contortionist enthralled the rest of Star King.
"Did Wooyoung-hyung know it was a date?" Chansung asked, watching Amber nudge a sleeping Henry and point at the girl using her feet to take a candelabrum off her head. "I thought he was going out with-"
"Congratulations!" Wooyoung interrupted pointedly. "You're really doing a good job of staying out of this."
"What?" Chansung asked blankly.
Junho and Wooyoung offered identical, sickeningly sweet smiles. "Nothing, Chansungie~"
~
"He lied to us!" Junho seethed in the greenroom.
"Live and let live," Wooyoung reminded patiently.
~
Taecyeon grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and pulled him into his and Minjun's room. "Is it just me," he grumbled as he leaned against a wall, fatigue emanating off him in waves, "or are you and Wooyoung up to something?"
Junho widened his eyes in innocence. As widely as they would open, at least. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, hyung."
"Seriously?" Every line on Taecyeon's face told stories of exhaustion and frustration. Every premature wrinkle from laughing, natural and forced, at everything the world threw at him because humor was the only sensible defense against the stress he faced day in and day out. "Okay. What the hell. Junho, you've always been one of the most level-headed people around here so I'll cut you some slack."
"Very motivational, hyung."
"Shut up," Taec sighed and wiped his glasses on his pajama collar. "I'm sexy and I'm tired. It's just not a good combination, okay? And you're between me and my precious bedtime so let's just get this over with."
"Well, who am I to argue with sincerity like that?"
"How are things between you and Khun?" Taecyeon asked bluntly, which stopped Junho's light-hearted joking dead in its tracks.
There was a reason why Taecyeon became the leader.
Gone were the days of eternal body gags, of disgraceful puns and the careless beastly personality. This was no longer the same Taecyeon whom Junho competed with once before and became teammates with not long after. The Taec who prolonged his youth and just wanted to have fun was lost in the past.
Standing before Junho now, towering over him in more ways than one, was the Ok Taecyeon drawn out of his shell of sheer and misguided optimism. The Ok Taecyeon tempered by heartbreak and the burden of leadership, the person answerable to management for the group's every single step out of line. And many lines had been crossed. Taecyeon bore responsibility for each one.
Jay had many faults as a leader, though the group never faulted him for his shortcomings. Then he left and that was when Junho learned that Jay's biggest fault and his brightest saving grace were the lengths he would go to save his group from harm. When he left, the protection he offered vanished with him, along with the illusion of invulnerability that 2PM once believed they had. Leaderless, every misstep during rehearsals, every second of dead air during reality shows, every excess hour when recording was rebuked by management themselves. Until Taecyeon stepped up to carry the burden.
That was the great lesson of discipline. Of them all, Taecyeon learned it the hardest.
He could never throw the same illusions of strength that Jaebeom had so effortlessly wrapped around himself. But Taec was learning. There were days, few and far between, when Junho could start feeling invulnerable again. There were days, and they were good days, when they all believed that Taec was invincible.
And then there was the anger. The resentment. The searing thought that unified Taec's will. Jay was a quitter. Taec would show him that he could be a much better leader. That he should have been the leader since the start. That Jay should never have been there in the first place. That Jay didn't believe in them enough to stand beside him through it all.
They pretended not to know. It was easier not to see your own anger if you were turning a blind eye to something else.
Except for one person. Except for Nichkhun, who had always seen past the illusion, had always seen Jay's struggles in leadership more clearly than anyone else, saw Taec's harsh determination and the fear and guilt that powered it from within. Nichkhun had not been blinded by the euphoria of slowly climbing to the top of the world.
Then one day the wounds healed and they could pretend that they'd never been angry at all, and this time they could pretend not to notice Taec pushing himself harder than Jaebeom had ever done.
In a group, there must be trust. Like how Junho trusted Taecyeon to one day move on from the Jaebeom-shaped cage he'd made for himself.
Nichkhun got Junho's love, sad as it was that it lasted only for so long. But Taec earned Junho's respect, and that lasted forever.
"We haven't talked since then," Junho admitted.
"Since when?"
"You know since when," Junho almost whined but stopped himself just in time. "Since... that night."
Taec sighed and sat on the lower bunk. "Junho, you have to say it. I need to hear you say it."
Junho nodded. In leadership, there must be trust. "We haven't talked since we broke up. Two weeks. We haven't talked in two weeks, Taec."
"You see each other every day. You live in the same dorm."
"It's not that easy, Taec," and okay, maybe a bit of whining made it out this time. "You've been through break ups, haven't you? It's only been two weeks! Two weeks is definitely not long enough."
"Junho." Taec stood up, all of his acquired dancer's grace forgotten, put a calloused hand on Junho's shoulder, and pleaded, "We don't have time. It's already taking too long."
Bedroom in Arles
"Hey."
Nichkhun twisted his waist from the book he was reading on his bed to face Junho. "Hey."
They saw each other every day, Junho reminded himself. They were not teenagers anymore. He knew this was going to be awkward and hard but it was the right thing to do and damn it he was going to do it. He and Khun had brought this on themselves, and if Taec was getting involved then things were getting too serious.
Junho willed himself to step forward from the door, to sit on Nichkhun's bed like he'd done a thousand times before. This bed was witness to their being friends, then more than friends. It can witness them being friends again. "I just wanted to say hi."
Nichkhun smiled at him, one of those distracting angelic ones he used when he wasn't sure of what to say. "Hi. What's up?" Nichkhun sat up and patted the patch of bed beside him. A universal invitation to sit. And chat. Just that.
But this wasn't Junho's Nichkhun. Back when they were together, Nichkhun's smile used to light up his face slowly like the sunrise after a starless night. They hadn't been very physical - Junho insisted that theirs was a complement of minds, not a congress of bodies - but during those few times they celebrated being together, Nichkhun always made sure they left their idol images behind.
Junho tried not to suffocate then and there. "Nothing much. I just wanted to see how you were doing."
"I've been... well, I've been better. But it's not so bad, I guess. And you?"
A bit of small talk between friends. Junho told himself it's that simple, it's really just that simple.
But it's not.
"Same. I'll see you tomorrow, then?" he answered, his face carefully neutral.
He pretended he didn't see the brief flash of hurt in Nichkhun's eyes. "Yeah. Tomorrow. Sleep well, busy schedule ahead of us."
"Yeah." Junho let himself out, locked himself in his room, and crumpled slowly against the door.
~
Not for the first time, Junho was glad he led such a busy life. Between dance rehearsals, vocal training, recordings, photoshoots, production meetings for variety shows, actually shooting those shows, weekly individual coaching with management, auditions, those countless tiny things that kept an idol absorbed... between all these things he found that he could focus on working hard. After all, the idol motto was, 'No rest. No excuses. No matter what.' (And if it wasn't, then it damn well should be.)
For the first time he actually dreaded taking those fifteen minute breaks that everyone seemed to love so much.
He could feel his group's eyes on him. He could feel their quietly awkward sympathy, could feel them thinking, 'Is he okay? Should I go talk to him? Maybe I should talk to him. Maybe (insert another member here) should talk to him. Wait, maybe I should wait for him to talk to me?'
To which Junho just wanted to rage, 'I'm okay, stop worrying! Let me get my water bottle in peace! Why aren't you worrying about Khun? His eyes are more expressive than mine, he's more obviously heartbroken, why not ask him? I'm okay!'
He wasn't, of course - not deeply enough that he could look at Khun again and smile easily, those days hadn't come back yet. But in other ways that mattered, he was okay.
As long as he could sing, as long as he could dance, he was okay. He just didn't want to talk.
Maybe they shouldn't count Minjun's tactlessness against him.
"Hey old man," Junho greeted as Minjun huddled against him at a corner of the dance studio.
"You've been such a bad dongsaeng lately, you know that?" Minjun scolded him lightly, complete with a slap at Junho's forehead that was nowhere near menacing. "Don't you know that you're supposed to hassle your hyungs to spend time with you? You keep holing yourself up like this that I'm starting to think you're rebelling against me."
"Am not," Junho pleaded childishly, deliberately petulant. "I just thought hyung was busy and all. Genius takes effort, right?"
"You really don't get it, do you? As a dongsaeng it's expected of you to insist on spending time with your hyung. It's my only socially approved excuse to not work so hard. You're my break time, man, live up to it!"
Junho grinned despite himself, an action that felt so alien somehow despite doing it for the camera every day. It wasn't a very warm smile, but it was a start. "Fine, fine, adorable dongsaeng coming through... Hyuuuuuuung, why are you always so busy? We don't spend time together anymore! You should take me out tonight or else I'll start calling you 'that bad man who used to be my hyung but never had the time'. You should take me out tonight or else I'm telling mom," he finished with a pointed glance at Taec.
"Ah, but Junho-yah, I don't have time tonight!" Minjun teased and laughed loudly when Junho shoved him playfully. "Fine, if you insist then I guess we can go grab a bite to eat after rehearsals."
"Yay! Thanks hyung!" Junho said, grateful in more ways than one.
"What was that all about?" Wooyoung asked when Junho rejoined the fray and Minjun took Taecyeon aside for a bit of tonal coaching.
"Just a bit of brotherly love, I guess."
"Ah," Wooyoung said, somewhat disappointed. "I was thinking of going out tonight with you and Chansung. You know, Young Boy team and all that. But I guess I missed you by a minute."
Speak of the giant, Chansung overheard his name and went over to them. "I can't tonight, hyung, already got plans," he said as he tried to lick Junho's shoulder and ended up with a facefull of sweaty palm.
Wooyoung sniffed bitterly. "Nobody loves me."
"True," said Junho.
"Not true!" Chansung insisted and hugged a protesting Wooyoung. Junho winced; Chansung's hugs were how other people defined 'football tackle'.
~
It was only a quick glimpse through the lightly tinted windows of a car passing right outside their building, but Junho liked to think that he knew his best friend well enough. The person in the passenger seat, on the other hand, was familiar in the most unsettling of ways.
A quiet exchange of texts over dinner.
Pssst. Wooyoungie. They're together again.
what then a few seconds later who
Chansung looks really serious about her. I'm worried.
yah live and let live remember
Cafe Terrace at Night
Minjun was not a hyung by nature.
Yes, he was the eldest, but that didn't mean he knew how to act like a hyung: he was too brash, too tactless, too self-conscious to ever spare emotional strength for those people who just happened to be born a handful of years later. Minjun was a man of partial victories, of halfway successes, of unfulfilled dreams wrought by adolescent frustration and hidden by poorly disguised humility.
But all these unflattering things - and there were many more unflattering things - were tempered by one redeeming grace: Minjun was a man of faith. Maybe not in any particular deity, per se, but he had faith. And when you had faith, you had everything.
In the end, more than anyone else in the group, more than Taecyeon and Nichkhun, it was Minjun who understood the value of the self. It was Minjun who understood that the greater Korean community that focused so strongly on communal harmony relied on the individual encompassing selves who pursued shared dreams of peace. And that in turn, all this harmony can be disrupted by a single self who grew up the wrong way.
Minjun knew what it meant to have no one else to rely on. That, of all things, was the core of his seldom-seen wisdom.
"You should start dating again," Minjun told him over dinner in some out of the way hole in the wall place that served too sweet iced tea and too salty crackers and the best spicy fish soup Junho ever had. "Hasn't it been long enough? You shouldn't just mope like this and pollute the air with your surly negativity. It's ruining my vibes, man, I can't write music like this."
Though there were also times like these when Minjun could make everyone want to roll their eyes. "Hyung. I can't start dating yet, it's only been-"
"-two weeks, yes, I know," Minjun sighed in exasperation. "You remind us every time anyone even vaguely mentions dating. How would you feel if Nichkhun were to start seeing other people?"
Junho narrowed his eyes. He usually didn't do this; his eyes were narrow enough as it is. "Are you pitting me against him?"
Minjun shrugged without a trace of guilt. "I thought it would be helpful."
Junho pointedly put his spoon down and leaned in to stare Minjun in the eyes. "Hyung. This break up isn't a competition. We didn't break up just so we can tear each other down."
"I wouldn't know," Minjun said delicately. "I never knew why you broke up in the first place. I thought you were perfect for each other."
Two sentences that carried so much truth. Two sentences that kept spinning inside Junho's head, never stopping even after the words were gone.
"We were, weren't we." It wasn't a question. There were nights - there were many nights - when Junho, spent and exhausted from days without rest, wanted nothing more than to collapse against Khun and fall deep into unmoving sleep. And Khun was always there, always ready to catch him, always ready to wrap him in his arms and Junho felt there was no place safer than where he found himself.
They were perfect. A traitorous thought.
"But we broke up for a reason," Junho said, reminding both Minjun and himself that there was a deeper truth than immediate perfection. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, hyung, but just. Let it go, okay?"
Minjun frowned but said nothing more. He fished out some slices of squid from his soup and spooned them into Junho's bowl, and Junho felt that was as good an answer as any.
~
"Hey," Junho greeted from Nichkhun's bedroom door when he got home. "Going out?"
"What makes you say that?" Nichkhun asked.
Junho smirked. There was even humor in it. Or maybe he was just well fed. "You mean between the oversized sunglasses at night, the non-thread worn beanie, the new shirt, and the fact that you're pulling on pants?" Junho pointed out.
"Oh, that," Nichkhun chided with his easy laughter. It had been a while since Junho last heard that. "I just thought a night out would be nice." He pulled his jeans fully on, buckled his belt, and looked at Junho with a question in those doe eyes.
"Looks like it's going to be a very nice night out," Junho teased. "You look very nice, too."
"Thanks," Nichkhun said. He held out his arms, not exactly an invitation for a hug but definitely an invitation to come closer. "It's the van Gogh exhibit. Tonight's the opening gala. Remember? We made plans."
"That was tonight?" Junho didn't know whether to feel relieved or abandoned. Nichkhun had been excited for that exhibit, talked about it non-stop until Junho got the hint and said fine, let's go see it and Nichkhun admitted he already got the tickets. They made plans and of course those plans went to hell.
And now Khun was going to see it with someone else.
"I don't have a force field, you know," Nichkhun said, misinterpreting the sudden blankness in Junho's eyes. "You can come closer. I don't want to have to talk to you from the doorway for the rest of our lives."
Junho laughed, some tension dissipated, and took careful steps in.
The room was full of the smell of Nichkhun, that easy musk of a young man who worked out a lot and ate plenty of meat.
There had been a time back at the beginning when Junho couldn't stand being close to Khun. Foreigners, he'd learned early, were different not just in how they looked and how they sounded: they also ate different things and their bodies worked in subtly different ways, meaning naturally they smelled differently too. To Junho's all-Korean nose (and there was no flattering way to say this) Nichkhun smelled like eggs.
But time passed and people grew closer. Maybe it was the change in diet or maybe people really can get used to new things. All Junho knew was that after a while Nichkhun's smell wasn't as offensive and a shorter while later he didn't even notice it at all.
Then more time passed and people grew closer still. And by then he started noticing Nichkhun's smell once more, but this time it did other things to him, pleasant things lost in not so quiet candlelit nights.
Old habits were hard to break. They still were, in the end, men in their youth.
They say that smell is the most primal of all senses. They say that smell is the most directly linked to memory.
Junho flicked imaginary lint off Nichkhun's shoulder, all the while looking into those eyes he'd grown accustomed waking up to everyday.
Nichkhun's hand rose and Junho expected him to brush him away, to re-establish the privacy of Nichkhun's personal space. And maybe that was the intention. But when their hands touched, when it was skin against skin, Junho felt the pressure in Nichkhun's fingers change. And there their hands stayed.
Too much, this moment, for a heart Junho had never learned to control once he'd given it to someone else. "I miss you. I miss... us."
Nichkhun said nothing. He kept his hand there and didn't move away, let months of learned behavior take over and closed his eyes and let Junho lean in and Junho didn't think about mistakes because maybe this wasn't one, this still felt right.
Nichkhun was just there. So close. Too close. So easy to... step back. A belated realization that, inconvenient reality aside, Nichkhun was wearing the cologne that Junho gave him for their hundredth day. The one that Nichkhun only wore when they went out.
The realization was a punch to the gut.
"Go," Junho said, forcing a smile on his face and refusing to be bitter. "Have fun. You deserve a night out. Adore the irises for me."
"Junho..."
More steps back, surrounding himself with a careful armor as brittle as graphite. "I have stuff to do. Music to write. And things. There are lots of things."
Nichkhun nodded, and unlike Junho he had no qualms about letting the conflict show all over his face. "Yeah. I guess. Get some sleep, okay?"
"I will," Junho said, and Nichkhun left.
Strange that something like this sapped him of every reserve of strength. Strange that the proximity that had given him inspiration before, this same proximity that made the blood in his veins burn with desire now left his knees shaking and his world spinning and all he could do was grab on to the dresser and slowly sit on Chansung's unused bed.
One day maybe Junho will be proud that he had the maturity and self-control to stop himself. Then again, maybe that was too far into the future, maybe it wouldn't come at all. Tonight all he could think about was how unfair life was that Nichkhun had already taken the first steps to moving on, but the best Junho could do was linger.
~
Three knocks on a different bedroom door. "Hyung? Are you awake?"
"Yeah?" two voices answered. "You have to be more specific," Minjun's voice followed up right as he opened the door. Behind him Junho saw Taecyeon half sitting up and watching them with his fingers still on his laptop.
The hyungs. Troublemakers by their own rights, but hyungs exactly when you needed them to be.
"I guess I just want to say that you're right," Junho confessed. "You'll be seeing a new me starting tomorrow."
If he hadn't headed to his room right after his declaration, if he had stayed just a few seconds more, he would have heard Taecyeon's voice rumble "That was worrying. What happened?" and Minjun placate him with "It's fine, everything's going to work out."
~
Junho liked to get lost in the crowd.
Most days, it was impossible. There were just too many eyes.
Sometimes, Junho just didn't care.
~
There was catharsis in photography. There was catharsis in watching birds fly, the most renowned symbol of freedom.
Then there must be, Junho reasoned, greater catharsis in both.
When he started receiving regular paychecks one of the first things he saved up for was his own professional wildlife camera - a small gift to himself after years of blood and sweat and tears lost to the stage, a small peace offering to the Lee Junho that lived beneath the makeup and never shone under the spotlight. This Junho was the Junho of his childhood, a boy who liked to chase leaves in the wind and sketch medieval weaponry in the margins of his notebook and stare out the classroom window and watch birds take flight.
But idol life was not kind. Chasing leaves turned to chasing dreams, sketching swords turned to jotting down notes about upcoming variety shows, and watching birds... mercy of mercies, watching birds developed to catching still images of them up close.
Seoul had too few genuine birds of prey visiting the capital. When 2PM wasn't filming in remote locations, Junho contented himself with taking pictures of pigeons in the park.
It was a small thing, but small things were the beginnings of happiness. It was the one thing he kept to himself, a little club exclusively for Lee Junho. The members knew about his little hobby and they likewise knew that none of them were invited to partake in the few hours Junho spent to indulge childhood joys.
He liked to find secluded places in the suburbs where he could toss breadcrumbs everywhere. The pigeons came, Junho had hours of fun. One of the members had once used Junho's computer to search for elementary schools, and when Junho pulled up the browsing history he found a map to a little rustic playground that seemed suitably anonymous.
It was in this little playground, on a day off he'd begged to have from management, where Junho found his camera lens focusing neither on the pigeons that gathered around him nor on the children noisily waging war on the jungle gym, but on the couple sitting on a secluded bench half hidden by overgrown bushes under the shade of city trees.
Maybe it was the intimacy, the way his arms were casually wrapped around her shoulders and they sat there talking like they had no care in the world. But Junho had no time to be jealous because maybe it was how the guy wore a fully zipped up hoodie under the heat of the noontime sun with oversized sunglasses that just screamed "idol" in seven different languages.
Or maybe it was pieces of the puzzle fitting together with a nearly audible click.
Stalking quietly and not making any sound was a skill known only to idols worth their salt. Junho had learned to sneak out with the best of them.
A gentle pat on the back, unexpected enough that the idol whirled around defensively and grabbed Junho's wrist in that grip that Junho could identify anytime, anywhere. "Chansungie. Annyeong," he greeted coldly, his smile deathly serious, his other hand waving a friendly greeting that dripped rivers of irony.
"Junho," Chansung gasped, his face paling in fear. "What are- you aren't supposed to be here-"
"I should go," the girl said, and Junho glared at her with thoughts of Gee, you think?, but Chansung let Junho go and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"No, Hyeseul, you should stay," Chansung implored her. "We'll go, we're the ones who shouldn't be here."
"It's a public place," Junho pointed out. "We have every right to be here. Like she does. Don't we, Hyeseul-sshi?" and maybe the way he said her name dripped with a tiny bit of venom.
"Junho, come on man, don't make this difficult," Chansung said, standing up and trying to pull Junho away but Junho was having none of this. He tried to squirm out of Chansung's grasp, but behind Chansung's strength was a lifetime of martial arts. Muscles that weren't just for show plus all the discipline needed to make the most of every movement.
"Chansung, let go-"
"Mom!" a kid yelled as he broke out from the crowd and ran towards them. "Why is your friend fighting this ahjusshi?"
She would have been a fine actress, Junho thought, as Hyeseul's eyes filled with a kind of worry too deep to name. She took her son in her arms and left hurriedly, without a word, without a backward glance. Not that Junho was in any state of mind to follow her, not that he could have followed her if he wanted to, not with Chansung holding on to his arm without any intention of letting go. But all that was secondary to the frustration that welled up from deep in Junho's gut, weeks of tossing and turning in his bed about how he lost Khun and now he's about to lose Chansung as well.
He could have offered so many reasons.
In the end, it all boiled down to a simplification of everything.
Junho had a bad few weeks and enough was enough.
"Chansung," Junho hissed. "My best friend. Who I sincerely want to punch in the face right now. You're dating a single mom? What were you thinking?"
"Shhhh!" Chansung shushed him urgently. There were no other parents nearby but some of the kids had stopped their games of pretend and were watching them unabashed. Soon enough the other parents and guardians would spot two grown men making a scene.
Angry as he was, Junho could still see sense. He let himself be dragged off quietly seething as Chansung led him away from the privacy of that secluded playground.
"I should explain," Chansung said in the safety of a hastily hailed cab.
"Go ahead. I'm thrilled know how you thought it was a good idea to date someone who's not only not an idol, but also happens to have a six year old son."
Chansung shot a quick glance at their cab driver, but the man was too busy enjoying the music of Baek Jiyoung to pay any attention to them. "Listen," Chansung hissed. "Just because you're having a lousy few weeks doesn't mean you get to take it all out on me, okay? Just because you and Khun-hyung broke up doesn't mean we all have to wallow in being single."
Junho waved Chansung's protests away, regardless of the truth they carried. "That's not what this is about. This is about you, number one: dating someone who's going to get hell from our fans for even spending time with you, and number two: she has a son. Or did that fact escape your common sense as well?"
Chansung was a saint. That much Junho can attest to with the way Chansung patiently shook his head and just let Junho's anger go. "Let's not talk about this right now, there's something I want to show you first."
Junho folded his arms and stewed all the way home.
~
"This isn't just about dating anymore." Back in the dorm, in the privacy of Nichkhun's and Chansung's shared room, Chansung unlatched his foot locker and pawed at its unruly contents. "If I say I'm serious about her, will you believe me?"
The silent ride back had given the anger time to cool. "We're not that old. Serious for us is, what? Being exclusive for a year? Like that?"
Chansung's smirk was way too smug for Junho's comfort. "Catch."
Junho caught the red and white blur just before it hit his face. Junho stared at the thing in his hands and let out a guffaw of disbelief. "A pokeball? Really serious, Chan, very mature."
Chansung shrugged Junho's humor away. "So she likes video games, so what? Open it."
Junho pressed the button at the ball's equator. An audible click and the top red half swung open at the hinge. Junho found himself staring at a gift far more serious than that time Nichkhun booked a weekend in Jeju with him and his sisters.
This was no mere promise ring. This was the real thing, gemstone and all.
"Your confidence in being together forever is touching," Junho said flatly. So much more he wanted to say but no chance to find the right words. He closed the pokeball, knowing that if he didn't tear his eyes away right now from the gift that was probably worth more than his entire camera equipment he would stare at it in disbelief the whole night long. "Still, I can't seem to shake the feeling that you're dead set on making the biggest mistake of your life."
"Mistake?" Chansung asked, coldly uncertain. Like Junho shouldn't have said that.
Oh but once the dam had broken the words were hard to stop. Junho tossed the pokeball back. "We have so much ahead of us. We're slowly climbing to the top of the world, there's no telling where we could end up going. And here you are, already thinking about settling down and getting married and taking care of her son? Chansung, we're a team. We're 2PM. The only way we can make it is if we stay strong as a group."
Chansung kept the ball back in his footlocker with a pensive expression on his face. The lock clicked and he sat on his bed that he hadn't used for so long. "Junho, when have I ever let you guys down?"
Never, Junho wanted to say, but he was sure Chansung already knew the answer.
There was clarity in Chansung's eyes, a form of sincerity he never really managed to project for the camera. But Junho saw it now, that gaze that stripped Chansung of every pretension and laid his soul bare. "I'll be with you guys every step of the way. I promised her that, and this time I'll promise it to you too. I'll keep climbing and one day I will be at the top. But it won't be just for her. And as much as I love you guys, it won't be for you, too. Junho, you're one of my best friends in the whole world and I love you. But there's one thing I need you to understand: my son is not a mistake."
The last few words overrode every bit of anger Junho had in his veins, chilling him to his bones. "Your... son? Your son?"
Chansung shrugged, like it was no big deal. He laid down on his bed and patted the small space beside him and Junho decided why the heck not, this was his best friend, he missed this, it was okay for him to climb in. Chansung was physically affectionate. He always found it easier to relate with people if he could touch them, as if his nerves could wire themselves directly to other people's thoughts through the contact of their skin. "We were fifteen. We didn't know any better. She always kicked my ass whenever we sparred. She still could, actually. One thing led to another and... well, five months later she had to drop out of school and I had to promise both our parents that we won't let it ruin our lives. That we'd stand up for ourselves."
He winked at Junho, self-mocking and completely aware of it. "So I tried to be an idol. Unlike you guys, I was just in it for the money. I lost Superstar Survival and thought, well, that was it. Then we got signed in for Hot Blood and she broke up with me because she didn't want the complications of raising a son with an idol dad. I mean, raising a kid as a teenager was complicated enough, right? She said she didn't want her private life exposed. And we haven't been together ever since." Chansung stared at the ceiling even as his fingers absentmindedly rubbed the sliver of skin that showed between Junho's shirt and his pants. It was the kind of touch that would have made Junho's mind burn with want had he been in bed with Nichkhun... but this was Chansung, and Chansung's touches were always more about connection and reassurance.
"But you know what?" Chansung said after a pause. "I always knew she broke up with me so I could focus on succeeding as an idol. So I didn't have to worry about milk and diapers and stuff. I mean, our families accepted it and took care of them because they're awesome like that and I always gave half my paycheck to her, but I just knew deep down that she was stronger than I ever could be. Idol life is easy, you know."
Junho bristled at that, thinking that Chansung must be joking because how could he call a life like this easy?
But perspective forced its way in and Junho just couldn't imagine being so young and having another life be so dependent on him on top of school and keeping secrets and maybe working part time to make up for the additional expenses. And letting dreams go because reality was not kind.
"I told her that one day I'll no longer be an idol," Chansung continued, "and I can tell the world that I have a son. Then I'll give her that ring and we can be together again and I can give them the family they deserve."
But then again, maybe some dreams were worth more than others. Maybe some dreams had to give way so greater dreams could come true.
Junho scrambled out of Chansung's grip, pretending alarm and straddling Chansung's hips, leaning in so they were practically nose to nose. "So this is your big secret? This is why you're so calm and collected all the time? Why you're always so driven?"
"Being a dad put a lot of things in perspective," Chansung admitted uneasily.
Junho relented and leaned back. "You've grown up so quickly."
"Yeah." Chansung's voice was heartbreakingly wistful. "Sometimes I wish I didn't. But. Well. I have a son. And his mother loves him very much. And I can be happy with them. My biggest mistake is that I can't be there to be his father."
"Maybe someday."
"Yeah, maybe someday things will go my way. I'll be there when it does." Chansung reached up and squeezed Junho's cheeks. "And I'll have my awesome best friend right there beside me."
The bedroom door opened. Nichkhun walked in and barely blinked at the scene, ignoring the compromising sight on the bed because this was Junho and Chansung, they had their own special rules. "I've been looking for you two all day."
"Really? Me too?" Chansung asked from beneath Junho.
Nichkhun's chagrin was honest. "Well. More Junho, actually. But I did wonder what you were up to."
Chansung laughed, pushed Junho off him and rolled out of bed. "Since Khun-hyung isn't really here to talk to me," Chansung said pointedly because Junho could be dense when he wanted to be, "I'll just get out of your way, okay?"
"No, you can stay," Nichkhun insisted. Then to Junho, "The van Gogh exhibit. I was wondering if you'd like to see it with me."
Junho and Chansung shared a glance, the latter in approving surprise and the former in apprehension, before Junho nodded and said, "Sure, let me just get my coat."
Starry Night
The date, if it was a date, was so very Nichkhun: striving hard for classical beauty but ending up having the popular experience.
"Tell me what you see," Nichkhun asked of him as they stopped in front of a painting so well known that even Junho knew he was looking at a masterpiece.
Swirling colors of blue and yellow. A cultural icon imprinted in the subconscious of almost anyone who had access to television or the internet.
Junho read the placard beneath the canvas. "It says here that van Gogh found religion about the same time he made this painting." Junho raised his eyes and the brushstrokes seemed to move. It was a mastery of lines, how the edges of the buildings melted to the gentle curves of the trees and hills, and above them the night sky swirled in its infinite dance of cloud and stars. Junho thought it was a perfect representation of why so many artists were nocturnal by nature.
"That's what the historians say," Nichkhun said. "What does Junho say?"
Junho rolled his eyes, exasperated in more ways than one. "Khun, I'm a singer. I can pull symbolism off any music video you can throw at me. But I can't say anything about a piece like this. I'm not the kind of person who can, okay?"
"I'm not asking for a critique," Nichkhun insisted. "What do you see in the painting, Junho?"
He could just refuse to answer. Junho knew that Nichkhun would let it go if he refused to answer just one more time. But this was Nichkhun; he would simmer slowly about it on the way home and Junho would end up looking for the painting again on the internet and going to Khun before they turned in for the night and just say a few words to put both their minds at ease.
But Nichkhun had gone through all the trouble to take them here, had gone through the trouble to swallow the awkwardness to take him here, so this meant more than just exposure to western high culture. With Nichkhun, it was almost never about himself; it was almost always about other people.
Just because they had broken up didn't mean they couldn't trust each other.
What the hell, maybe he could pretend to be cultured every once in a while.
"I think this is an expression of faith," Junho gave in after contemplative silence. "The swirling lights of the stars, the peace of the hills... it's like God is making a promise of protection to the people sleeping in this town."
Nichkhun nodded at him to go on.
"He saw how the people there loved each other and cared for each other, so God gave them one of his greatest gifts. He gave them a moment of peace." Junho peered at Nichkhun, just in time to catch the troubled furrow of his eyebrows before he put himself on guard once more. "Why? What do you see?"
"Something very different," Nichkhun admitted sheepishly.
"Go on."
Nichkhun put his hands in his pockets and leaned back, trying to shrink into himself, looking like he was trying to avoid Junho's judgment. "When I saw this earlier this week, I thought-" he grinned at Junho, a little silliness directed at himself "-I saw an attack."
A corner of Junho's lips quirked up in amusement.
"God," Nichkhun continued, "was angered when he saw how meanly the people in this town treated each other. So God sent his light to stop the people from hurting each other more."
"So God decided to destroy the town?"
Nichkhun shuffled his feet. "That's how I saw it a few days ago."
"You brought me here so you could tell me a story about divine apocalypse?" Junho pointed at the square of canvas that cost so much more than their whole group had ever made. "In a painting as beautiful as this? Really, hyung?"
Nichkhun shook his head vehemently. He was frustrated, but somehow Junho felt the frustration wasn't directed at him. "No, I brought you here so I could tell myself that we couldn't be friends anymore. Junho, this painting made me realize just how angry I was all the time. I thought I'd been handling it well. I thought I'd been handling us well. But when I saw this painting I realized that I could barely see any good in anything anymore. Even in something like this. I looked at something so beautiful - this promise of protection and gift of peace - and all I saw was anger. And honestly? I thought that was what you'd see, too. I thought we'd never be friends because we're both too angry to see the good in things and set things right." Nichkhun took Junho's hand, not caring if they were in public or not.
"Junho. Thank you. For proving me wrong."
Nichkhun had always needed reassurance that what he had around him was real, that his reality was not just idle imagining. Junho squeezed his hand - it was the best he could give for now - and let go. "You handled it better than I did," Junho admitted. "It's better for a man to be angry than be defeated. But. I guess we both needed this."
"Defeated?" Nichkhun asked uncertainly.
"If you took me here earlier, I'd have said entirely different things. You caught me at a good time." Junho bumped their shoulders together. "So. I guess this means that maybe someday in the future, or maybe even tomorrow, who knows... we could be friends again? Maybe?"
Nichkhun smiled slowly at him, again that slow sunrise that banished the night and worry from his eyes, that smile that always made Junho feel gentle sunlight on his skin. That smile that Junho hadn't seen for what felt like years. Nichkhun gave him that smile as a promise of peace and said, "I'd like that."
~
They came home to a scene of chaos, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. 2PM had always been the beastliest of the idol groups.
"Where have you two been?" Wooyoung asked from atop Taec's back. Taec himself had Chansung trapped in a headlock whereas Chansung looked like he was trying to bite Taec's wrists but was ultimately failing because was Wooyoung pulling his hair.
Off to the side, Minjun busily played Mario Kart.
"Do we even want to know?" Nichkhun asked, gesturing to the tangle of limbs composed of half their band.
"Bet gone awry," Minjun explained. "You guys hungry?"
Nichkhun and Junho shared a glance and answered at the same time, "Nah, we're good."
Later that night with everyone sleeping the sleep of the exhausted and the dorm was quiet and Chansung's snores were deafeningly loud, Junho stood before a door hand raised and decided against knocking.
"Thanks, hyung," he whispered, and went back to his room.
And maybe it was unrelated. Maybe he was talking in his sleep thanks to dreams about dancing on gigantic piano keys made of glittering white gold. Maybe he was reliving days of half-successes and trying to escape the nightmares of haunting failures. Maybe all of these in the quiet of his room, "You're welcome, dongsaeng," Minjun mumbled in his sleep.
Or maybe? Maybe he just had faith.