
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5359586.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      EXO_(Band), K-pop
  Relationship:
      Kim_Jongin_|_Kai/Oh_Sehun
  Character:
      Lu_Han, EXO_Ensemble
  Additional Tags:
      Car_Accidents
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-07-17 Words: 31096
****** Alone, I had Only to Wish ******
by nisakomi
Summary
     “I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For
     everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only
     to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my
     execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.” – Albert Camus,
     The Stranger
Notes
     warnings: alternate reality, angst, (((car accident)))
     written as part of the runandgun exchange for lunathunderhead
Jongin is seven when he first joins a ballet school. His mother holds his hand
as they enter the studio where the auditions are held and he has no
expectations. When the adjudicators announce the names and numbers of those
accepted into the Primary Boys I class, Jongin’s name is not called out. He is
not altogether surprised, even if he is disappointed.
“Park Jaehyun, number twenty-seven, and Kim Jongin, number forty-one, please
come with me.”
Jongin lifts his head sharply and wonders what’s going on. A stern faced woman
leads him into a smaller empty studio.
“We would like to offer you two positions in our Primary Boys II class. It
seems that both of you would be excellent additions.”
Jongin is speechless.
“Why don’t we ask your parents what they think?”
At age seven, he is one of only two newcomers to the Primary Boys II class. A
class where the established hierarchy does not want to be shifted. At that age,
Jongin already understands that the perceived value of a dancer is articulated
through the curve of their elbows, the bend of their fingers, and the tapering
off of sharp, delicate lines. And having the best lines was the only thing that
really mattered to him, to the other students, to their teacher, and to the
world.
The thirteen pairs of eyes that examine him when he enters the studio don’t
affect him at all. They analyze him without subtlety, looking him up and down,
wondering if he’ll be any good, wondering if they would be able to best him if
it came down to a competition. He can almost see the thoughts running through
their minds like the lines of a book, open and easy to read.
Within moments of their first warm-up exercise, a simple circle sequence done
to an upbeat mazurka, it becomes apparent to his peers that Jongin possesses a
certain gift. He has an inherent talent for dance, and even if he is just a
young boy, too small and bony without the muscle structure of a man, there is a
certain fluidity in his actions, movement without jarring or jerkiness. The air
with which he carries himself is not typical for a seven year old; everyone’s
eyes are immediately drawn to him.
While his teacher leads them through pliés and tendus at the barre, Jongin pays
attention only to his body. He takes care to suck in his stomach, until he
remembers to point his toes and in doing so forgets about his tummy. As focused
on posture as he is, he does not notice the other boys around him who are
quietly jostling for closest position to him, trying to catch his eye and
whisper, “partner?” to secure a place beside him. What they really want is to
be a part of the pair that impresses the woman at the front of the room, the
woman with a solemn look on her face, gray hair pulled back into a tight bun,
the same woman who had auditioned Jongin and noticed something special.
She lets them battle for positions as her “favourites”. It remains her only
source of unique entertainment in this setting, like a civilized bullring where
boys throw each other under the bus in hopes of receiving one or two words of
acknowledgement. She holds onto praise tightly, pressing her lips together
firmly as she watches, knows that any compliments will be rarer than ever with
this new boy in the studio.
The studio cannot contain Jongin as he gallops across the room with the boy who
won the power struggle to be his partner. The teacher smiles at them without
saying a word, and proceeds to outline every mistake that the other pairs make
with an exasperated sort of tone. The boy with Jongin thanks him, to Jongin’s
confusion. He’s small and broad-shouldered, but powerful and smooth in his
dancing. Later, as soon as they finish their reverence, he will introduce
himself, and Jongin will nod coolly without processing the name, leaving the
change rooms before the others have gotten their shirts on.
Jongin won’t remember any of their names, doesn’t remember becoming friends
with any of them. Not for lack of others trying, but because he doesn’t see a
point when they don’t really want to be friends with him, just friends with
what he might eventually come. He resents that a little, resents that he’s only
worth the reputation that precedes him, and that if he failed to meet their
expectations for him, he’d be worth nothing to them.
None of them will remember the other boy who joined the class, the one who came
in the same year as Jongin. The small boy with spectacles and poor turn out,
but with just as much heart and soul as the others, the boy who ends up totally
ignored. Though he doubles his efforts to keep up with some of the more
advanced students, he will be forgotten and neglected and no one will ask about
him when he drops out halfway through their fourth year. Jongin won’t say
anything, but he will remember.
He remembers when he’s auditioning for the School of Performing Arts, he
remembers when he’s auditioning for SM, when he auditions over and over. He
remembers that there were two boys, one who excelled, and another who didn’t,
and he knows which one he has to be at all cost. He knows which one he has to
be when they interview him, when they ask him “do you want to dance?” and
Jongin tells them no, tells them that he needs to dance. The interviewer smiles
at him, and he thanks George Balanchine.
 

Jongin is sixteen when he makes Sehun come for the first time. Or maybe
fifteen, he can’t be sure.
Jongin isn’t the greatest at making friends. People only gravitate towards him
when he’s dancing, but take away the barre and dance floor, he is aloof and
alone. The lack of friends is a mixture between others being too scared to
approach him and him being too scared to approach others.
He’s not like Sehun, who seems to naturally attract everyone around him.
Sehun doesn’t try to make him laugh; he tells awful jokes that Jongin laughs at
anyway, by virtue of how ridiculous they are and the faces Sehun makes when he
tells them. Jongin laughs easily and earnestly at stupid things, and Sehun
readily obliges him without thinking. Instead of asking Jongin about Jongin,
Sehun tells Jongin about Sehun, recounts trivial facts about his family, about
his life before this school, and even things that happened just yesterday, like
burning his tongue on the ramyun and being grateful he can’t taste how crappy
the cafeteria food is today. They tease each other when they get too gangly to
know what to do with their limbs, and give each other advice when choreography
isn’t coming smoothly. Jongin isn’t usually serious even if he acts like he
always is, and Sehun brings out the kid in him.
Jongin appreciates Sehun’s playfulness. It reminds him that just because
someone isn’t being serious doesn’t mean that their heart’s not into it. Sehun
makes dancing fun, manages to help Jongin channel the onstage personality into
the offstage one, and he feels like a normal boy his age again. He doesn’t
notice that they’ve become inseparable until one day someone introduces them as
“Jongin, the best dancer in the school,” and “Sehun, his best friend,” and
Jongin doesn’t know which statement makes him laugh harder.
It happens when they’re showering after dance practice. They’re the only ones
left because they stay rehearsing longest, and being naked beside each other is
nothing new, but then Sehun gives a little moan and Jongin turns to look at
him. Sehun’s head is tilted back, steam rolling off his skin, he’s half hard
and looking every bit a naked teenage boy.
Jongin touches him instinctively; hand already on Sehun’s cock before he knows
what he’s doing. He never really figures out what he’s doing, fingers wrapped
around Sehun and stroking relentlessly. It’s awkward. It’s awkward because
Sehun’s his best friend, and he’s jacking Sehun off in the showers. It’s
awkward because he’s kind of at a loss for what to do but Sehun thinks he has
everything in control. All Jongin knows is what makes himself feel good, and
little tips that Taemin hyung has taught him in order to be discrete in the
dorms, but all that is useless now. There’s no one but them in the showers, and
the angle is completely wrong compared to how Jongin usually holds his arm, the
movement giving him a cramp in his wrist, and he has no idea how close Sehun is
because he’s not Sehun.
But Sehun keeps making these little noises, hums of appreciation, gasps, and
groans and he looks like his legs are going to give out at any moment, and
suddenly one of Sehun’s hands is gripping Jongin’s shoulder tightly, and he
backs them up against the wall so that he can lean against it and not have to
hold himself upright. Jongin thinks that with the state Sehun’s in, he must be
doing something right. So he keeps going, snaps his wrist jerkily, running the
ring he’s formed around Sehun’s cock up and down, everything feeling slick from
the shower and Sehun’s moaning grows louder. Jongin’s sure by now, sure that
there’s a sensation building in Sehun, sure that he feels damn good with
Jongin’s palm providing all the heat and friction Sehun could want.
He squeezes his fingers gently and pauses. Sehun whimpers loudly and obscenely
and Jongin relishes how much control he has, how he can make Sehun feel good
but also feel needy at the same time. He redoubles his efforts, ignoring the
soreness in his hand and pumping Sehun, pumping and pumping. Sehun arches
forward into him, so desperate and so close, and Jongin runs his thumb across
Sehun’s slit. Sehun thrusts twice into Jongin’s hand before coming; he loses
all the energy in his body, doubling over against Jongin for support.
Afterwards, they don’t talk about what happened. Jongin wonders what Sehun
would have done if Jongin hadn’t reached out, he wonders if Sehun would have
jacked off in front of him, he asks himself if he would have watched, if he
would have gotten hard too, and joined him, two teenage boys in the showers
getting off in the middle of the night. There’s a thought in the back of his
mind that he doesn’t want to think about - that he thoroughly enjoyed feeling
the weight of Sehun’s cock in his hand, that he didn’t mind jerking him off at
all. He doesn’t exactly wonder if this is what it’s like to be in a
relationship, but they go from best friends to best friends who get each other
off pretty damn quick.
 

Jongin is eighteen when the first EXO teaser finally rolls out. They say EXO,
but it’s only Kai, a car, and a pocket watch. They gather together behind a
laptop screen, tiny in comparison to the number of them, twelve grown men
squeezed too close together and craning their necks to see not much more than a
few twirls and overuse of flash camera techniques and water effects. Jongin
gets to sit on the only actual chair because he’s the only one in the teaser,
but part of him would rather not watch at all. Lu Han hyung somehow manages to
push his way to sit beside him, and Jongin is mostly relieved to have someone
else’s thigh pressing against his. It grounds him, a little, in this moment
where his dreams of becoming a star are finally being realized. He has to hold
his breath the entire way through. Lu Han notices and squeezes his knee.
When the video ends, he can see Lu Han’s eyes crinkle and his lips form a smile
out of his peripheral vision. Chanyeol makes some kind of ugly laughing noise
and starts to clap. Jongin’s not sure if he’s being made fun of until everyone
else starts cheering for him too, and he thinks he understands, he thinks that
they’re all allowing themselves a moment of elation, finally realizing that
this is real, that they’re an actual band, and they’re going to debut. They pat
him on the back, ruffle his hair, whoop with joy, and he lets himself laugh
with them, feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while.
Someone puts their arm around Jongin’s shoulder and whispers congratulations
into his ear. He doesn’t realize that it’s Lu Han hyung until after almost
everyone else has dispersed. Chanyeol pulls Jongin onto the couch for a few
celebratory rounds of Halo, and Jongin allows himself to be louder than usual
whenever he gets a kill. He thinks he probably deserves it. Chanyeol shrieks
every time he gets killed, and Jongin laughs at him every time, takes no mercy
as Chanyeol swears at him relentlessly and loudly. After each game, Chanyeol
pulls him into a headlock and Kyungsoo looks at them both with so much
displeasure that they end up helping him set the plates and food on the table
for dinner. Chanyeol drags him around the dorms to round up the others so that
they can eat together. He’s incredibly obnoxious about the whole process, but
Jongin laughs instead of telling him to shut up.
 
After most of them are finished eating, Joonmyeon goes through a quick briefing
to give them a rundown on the next day’s plans. He’s probably saying something
relevant and useful when Jongin pulls out his phone to text Lu Han, wondering
where he is.
Lu Han texts back ‘with a friend’ and an excess of squiggles that makes Jongin
wonder if Lu Han is actually twelve years old.
He jokingly asks, ‘are you seeing someone, hyung?!’ and smirks a little bit in
at how witty he is.
He’s pretty sure that he’s got Lu Han in a corner until his phone vibrates
again and reads Lu Han’s, ‘nope but are you seeing sehun-ah?!?!?!’ Jongin’s
smirk turns into a frown. Joonmyeon looks over, a little puzzled at what he’s
said to make Jongin unhappy.
Jongin doesn’t look at Joonmyeon. He looks at Sehun, who’s staring blankly at
Joonmyeon-hyung and quite obviously not paying attention. Jongin doesn’t know
if the arrangement they currently have can be called a relationship. Is that
what they call it when you grind against someone under the sheets late at night
when you think that everyone else in the dorms must be asleep? He doesn’t think
that really qualifies as “seeing someone.” He decides on texting Lu Han
‘wouldn’t you like to know?’ and turns his phone off, thinking that was that.
Later, moments after Joonmyeon’s done talking and moments before Lu Han returns
to the dorms just in time for dessert, Jongin turns his phone on and checks his
texts again. There are two messages.
He opens Lu Han’s message to find nothing but a winking face and Jongin thinks
that it’s unbelievable a person like this could be older than him.
The other is from Sehun, and reads ‘fuck, i’m horny, will joonmyeon hyung ever
shut up’ and Jongin has no idea what to think.
 
 
At that moment, he doesn’t have to think, because Sehun does the thinking for
him, as well as the jerking off. After, Sehun sits cocooned in Jongin’s
blankets and leans against Jongin’s shoulder, playing Mario Kart on his 3DS
even though his breathing still hasn’t evened out and they accidently got semen
on the sheets and someone’s going to have to clean it up later. It’ll probably
be Jongin. Sehun yells at his character easily, acting as if the fingers he’s
using to press ‘a’ and ‘b’ weren’t just wrapped around both their cocks, as if
orgasms don’t matter. Jongin supposes they don’t.
“Lu Han hyung said he would treat for a midnight snack later, do you want to
come?” Sehun asks after his Yoshi comes in first place again.
“Bubble tea again?”
Sehun doesn’t look up from the screen as he starts another round. “Yeah,
probably.”
Sehun leaves it up to Jongin to clean up the mess. Jongin doesn’t mind, but
he’s tired, and his nerves are frayed, he doesn’t know what Lu Han hyung is
saying to him, but he knows he wants to keep fucking Sehun even if it’s a
secret, and bandmates aren’t supposed to fuck bandmates. He doesn’t think about
that. Instead, he drags Chanyeol and Baekhyun with him into their living room
to gather around the space heater and makes Chanyeol play all the new R&B songs
that he thinks Jongin might like. Jongin hates all of them and likes all of
them at the same time. They remind him that he’s in a boy band with eleven
other guys and he’s sucking one of their dicks.
Eventually, Baekhyun makes his excuses to shower and sleep and looks pointedly
at Chanyeol as a reminder that he needs to sleep too.
“Yeah, I know, I’ll go to bed soon,” Chanyeol confirms, without actually
moving. He doesn’t move for a long time, staying with Jongin to sing along to
weird English music from America that Jongin doesn’t really quite understand
the lyrics to.
“I can’t decide if it’s easier to pick up rap lyrics in English or learning
them in Mandarin,” Jongin says.
Chanyeol laughs at him, laughs at the idea that memorizing sounds and tones for
rapping could be difficult. Chanyeol is the only real rapper in the entire
company; Jongin thinks of course he would find it easy. When Chanyeol caves to
fatigue as well, he apologizes to Jongin with his eyes already half closed.
He’ll probably forget to brush his teeth and he’ll end up drooling on his
pillow and in the morning Baekhyun will be the one who sorts out the crimp in
Chanyeol’s neck.
Jongin watches Chanyeol walk away and thinks that Chanyeol is a great friend to
him, almost as good as Baekhyun is to Chanyeol. He lays his head down on the
sofa, and accidentally falls asleep to the hum of the space heater.
 
In his dreams, he’s in a darkened room and Sehun is walking towards him slowly
and deliberately. When he gets close enough to touch, Jongin reaches his hands
out, wanting simply to feel and know that Sehun’s existence is real. As soon as
his fingertips brush against Sehun’s collarbone, Sehun dissolves into a hundred
tiny pale butterflies and he’s left grabbing at nothing but air. The
butterflies fly upwards, away from Jongin’s life in a kaleidoscope, and
disappear.
When he wakes up, someone’s trying to open the door. He hears Lu Han’s soft
voice whispering a goodbye and Sehun appears out of the doorway, padding into
the living room.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Jongin says, lifting his head barely off the
cushions. It comes off as a justification, but he doesn’t know why he needs to
justify himself and he doesn’t know what he’s justifying.
“The light was still on,” Sehun comments. “Were you waiting up for me?”
“No,” Jongin says truthfully, “or at least, I don’t think so.”
Sehun stares at him with his brows furrowed. Jongin’s learned the hard way that
even though he’s the one fucking Sehun, going on one of Lu Han and Sehun’s
bubble tea dates always leaves the other party feeling like a third wheel. It
feels like that even if all the rest of EXO are there. For some reason, it’s
become their thing, and they bond over it in a way that Jongin will never
understand. Jongin and Sehun are best friends. Lu Han and Sehun are more like
brothers, and in thirty years, Lu Han will still coo at Sehun being an absolute
brat and Sehun will still look up to Lu Han in a way no one else comprehends.
The closest comparison Jongin can make is Lu Han and Jongin’s friendship, so
inexplicably codependent that Jongin has difficulty knowing how to get through
days without Lu Han’s stupid emoticons.
“Get some sleep.”
He can’t really explain it, but he suddenly understands why Baekhyun never
mothers other people, but still ends up bossing Chanyeol around anyway. Sehun,
predictably, rolls his eyes and walks toward the bathroom, shifting his weight
from hip to hip for each step, walking with the same deliberation as the Sehun
in Jongin’s dreams, walking with purpose, as if he were a model on a runway.
Jongin closes his eyes.
 

At their first water break during practice the next day, Jongin rushes to find
himself an empty practice studio. He doesn’t bother to shut the door closed
behind him and collapses onto the floor, cheek pressed against the cold wood,
and muscles releasing just a little bit. He stays there, entire body feeling
boneless, and wills himself not to fall asleep.
Without warning, a heavy weight presses down on his back and the entire lower
half of his body spasms a little. Jongin’s head shoots up to look in the mirror
and sees Lu Han, hands digging into Jongin’s muscles. Jongin throbs with pain
and tension. His entire body seems to vibrate with need, with some kind of
desire for human touch, Sehun’s touch–.
“Wow, I can’t believe how stiff you are,” Lu Han says while rubbing firm
circles against Jongin’s waist. “How are you still moving when all of your
muscles are like this?”
Jongin grunts a little, but doesn’t bring himself to comment. The feeling of
fingers pressing against all the knots in his back and gently teasing them
apart make his legs feel weak. They’re not Sehun’s fingers. He knows that it’s
Lu Han hyung giving him a massage but he still moans a little. Lu Han chuckles
at him and presses into him harder. Jongin winces, and can’t tell if he’s
hurting more or less.
He doesn’t remember how it all built up, but the tension had just gotten worse
with each practice and after all the recording sessions that were too many
hours long what he really needs right now is for Sehun to comfort him so he can
finally relax his shoulders.
“Jongin, lower your shoulders,” their choreographer had nagged throughout the
entire practice. He thinks he probably can, now.
And after a while, he imagines that it’s Sehun, long, thin fingers kneading his
back, squeezing the muscles and touching him all over. He thinks about a
hundred little butterflies all resting on specific points along his back,
pinning him down with enough pressure to relieve all the tight soreness in his
muscles. Like little acupuncture needles, draining him of any hurt,
miraculously making him feel better, making everything okay. He doesn’t imagine
that the butterflies are Sehun, doesn’t imagine, doesn’t, doesn’t, and
fortunately, Lu Han’s voice interrupts his thoughts.
“I just wrapped Yixing up in bandages, so I’m going to give you a compress too.
I feel like the company should be doing this, but they probably don’t give a
crap unless you collapse on stage or something.”
Jongin nods his agreement, or tries to, but his cheek is still pressed against
the ground and he’s not planning on getting up anytime soon. Or at least, not
until Lu Han slips an arm under his shoulders and lifts Jongin up off the
ground so that Jongin can stand with some assistance. Jongin limps slowly to
the door, and bumps into Yixing, who’s coming out of the studio across the
hallway. He looks to be in just as much pain and the two of them share a wry
smile.
Lu Han helps both of them back to where the larger group overall is working on
choreography. They have a few moments to spare so Lu Han goes to grab them
water bottles. Sehun is in a corner with Zitao, discussing baseball cap designs
off a website they’re looking at from Zitao’s phone. Jongin watches the two of
them, lost in their animated discussion, watches while chugging water and
wiping off sweat, slowly forgetting that they’re in a dance studio at all. They
could be just friends, maybe in a cafe somewhere, or even outside a university,
they could be normal. The only care in the world that they have is whether that
leopard print will go with anything else, not whether or not they can get
through rehearsal unscathed, whether or not someone will fuck up during their
next performance, whether they’ll get scolded again. Jongin remembers, then,
that it doesn’t matter about the leopard print, because if the company asks you
to do something, to wear something, to say something, to think something, you
just do it, no questions asked.
Luckily, he doesn’t have an invested interest in clothing. Jongin doesn’t have
an invested interest in anything except dancing really, doesn’t know what’s
going on in the fashion world, or in any part of the world, not even the
current affairs in his own country. All he understands is dance, and he knows
that isn’t normal. He thinks he should at least care more about popular music
and actually appreciate what Chanyeol shares with him instead of being so
neutral about it all. Really, he just wants to be normal, not imagining Sehun’s
hands on him all the time, not thinking about Sehun as some kind of butterfly
prince, not being jealous that Sehun has close friends that aren’t Jongin, not
having a world that is slowly starting to spin tighter and tighter circles,
until it’s revolving around Oh Sehun.
He doesn’t know how he’s gotten here, nor how he’s let it go this far, but now
he doesn’t think he can find a way out either. Sehun catches his eye right
before they’re about to begin again and smiles the smile with his eyes that
takes up his entire face and starts to show him joking childish dance moves.
Jongin knows that he should be mimicking those moves but it takes him a while
and by the time he’s figured out what he’s supposed to be doing, they’re being
called back to attention.
That afternoon, Jongin dances with ferocity and doesn’t notice anyone else in
the studio. He doesn’t see them, or hear them. He knows they’re there,
peripherally, but there’s something he needs to get out of his system,
something that can only be danced out, and he loses himself in the music, gives
every single position and movement his maximum effort, throws himself into it.
By the end, of course, he’s completely burnt out.
Jongin tries to catch his breath. He stands up only to bed over again and touch
his toes. He stretches his entire body, glutes, calves, hamstrings, back, arms,
and waist. When he’s done he reaches up towards the sky and smiles a little. He
thinks he feels better.
The choreographer shakes their head and claps Jongin on the shoulder.
“If you try to dance away all of your problems kid, you’ll soon find that dance
is your problem.”
“I’m pretty sure it already is,” Jongin replies, grinning.
When they get back to the dorms later, Lu Han inspects Jongin’s lower back and
waist again.
“It’s not that you’re uninjured,” Lu Han begins slowly, “but it seems that my
massages work?”
Jongin smiles at him. “I feel so much better. You just keep on believing that
you’re the solution to all my problems, hyung. Just keep thinking that. It’ll
be easier for you, right?”
Yixing hasn’t shown any signs of improvement.
“What the fuck, Jongin, are you normal?” Lu Han wonders with his hands on his
hips.
Jongin shakes his head, laughing.
“I don’t know how you got better so quickly, but I still think you should take
it easy for a little while, alright? Don’t want you getting any stress
fractures or sprains right now, right before we debut. If you dance any more, I
think you’ll be aggravating the issue. It’s not like being an idol doesn’t
already take a physical toll–.”
“No,” Jongin interrupts Lu Han and clarifies for the second time that day.
“Whenever there’s something wrong with me, I just need to dance more. And then
I’ll be okay.”
Jongin doesn’t look at Sehun, and he doesn’t think about the butterflies. At
least physical ailments have tangible fixes.
 

Jongin is nineteen. One day, Jongin wakes up and sees Sehun curled up into a
ball beside him. The sun has not yet risen. It’s four in the morning when Kim
Jongin closes his eyes and sleepily thinks, fuck, I’m in love with my best
friend.
Jongin takes a deep breath. He had always thought that the world would sit at a
standstill when he fell in love. He thought everything around him would halt.
It didn’t. Nothing changes. The world goes on. Kyungsoo gets up and asks him
why he is sitting at the dining table and not eating. Jongin eats. Sehun goes
on. Sehun wakes up second last and drinks milk while Jongin cleans up his own
dishes. And Jongin goes on too. He looks at Sehun and thinks that Sehun is not
in love, Sehun is in like with having Jongin’s dick buried in him. He promises
himself that he won’t share this bit of information with anyone, not even Lu
Han hyung.
A light flashes in his face. Jongin blinks and Lu Han smiles at him, camera in
hand.
“Good morning, Jongin,” his voice is cheery.
Jongin mumbles, “Good morning,” and doesn’t let a note of his recent revelation
slip through. He thinks.
He stares at the photo developing in Lu Han’s hands, drying to reveal Jongin’s
rather sleepy face in a lazy sort of smile. Lu Han pulls a marker out of
nowhere and writes the date on the bottom, as well as Jongin’s name in neat
Hangul.
“Are you going to be forgetting my face sometime soon?” He jokes.
“I just don’t want to ever forget this moment!” Lu Han is entirely too cheery
this morning for his own good.
Jongin freezes up a little, and tries to reassure himself that Lu Han can’t
read minds, that Sehun’s not going to look at him tomorrow and tell him that
he’s not interested in commitment or fucking a bandmate forever. He takes a
deep breath and doesn’t look at the picture of himself. Doesn’t look at Sehun.
He looks Lu Han in the eye and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.
“I can see it now hyung, when you’re old and reminiscing about this fifty years
from now, you’ll pull that picture out and remark on that young man with the
handsome face.”
“In your dreams. You’ll be wishing that you had taken more pictures to remember
my beauty instead.”
“Both of you are wrong,” Sehun says, slinging an arm around each of their
necks, “It’ll be my cute and adorable face that you’ll both be missing.” He
sticks out his tongue.
Jongin laughs. Not at Sehun’s audacity, but at the three of them, standing
there with dark and heavy eye bags, each of them looking like absolute shit
from exhaustion, and finding it in them to joke about their beauty. Jongin’s
looked in a mirror recently, he knows that his cheeks are sunken and his skin
is breaking out and he looks like death warmed over. He knows that Sehun
probably looks the same, worn out and chronically fatigued, but he also knows
that he finds Sehun incredibly endearing.
He buries his face in Sehun’s shoulder and groans. Lu Han pats him on the back.
“It’s okay that you find our terrible humour funny. It makes sense because none
of your jokes are funny anyway.”
Jongin swats at Lu Han half-heartedly, and thinks that this whole knowing that
he’s in love thing is going to be a lot harder than he thought.
 

Jongin hates car rides. He spends the entire time with his thigh pressing
against Sehun’s. Sehun is looking straight ahead with his eyelids heavy, trying
not to fall asleep. Jongin is steadfastly looking anywhere but at Sehun,
thinking about anything except the warmth of where their bodies are touching.
He suddenly feels claustrophobic, and it’s like he can’t breathe.
He doesn’t think it should be like this, can’t imagine that he would be sitting
in a car, staring out at a window, so terrifyingly conscious of Sehun in the
space beside him. This isn’t what love was supposed to be like. He tries not to
react when Sehun’s head hits his shoulder, acts completely normal as his best
friend naps on him. This is normal, this is how they act all the time, touching
and being in each other’s spaces. This isn’t normal.
Baekhyun and Chanyeol are in front of them, having what appears to be a
competition to determine which of them sounds more like that strange bird
creature in the movie Up. Jongin thinks Chanyeol is winning until Baekhyun lets
out a cawing noise that shouldn’t be humanly possible. Chanyeol can’t stop
shrieking with laughter, and won’t stop clapping his hands.
“I win right?” Baekhyun asks, doing a little celebratory dance in his seat.
“Only if being able to sound like Kevin can really be considered winning.”
So that’s what the bird’s name was.
“Face it, Park Chanyeol, you’ll never beat me at imitating strange things.”
“Whatever, you’re never going to be able to rap like I can.”
“Are we really going to do this, because I can think of a hundred songs you
could never sing–”
“Please don’t do this,” Jongin begs, turning to Kyungsoo and Joonmyeon for
support. Kyungsoo is dozing against the window, mouth slightly open and cheek
squished against the glass. His ears are sticking out again. Joonmyeon is
listening to something through his earphones and doesn’t look up from whatever
he’s reading. There’s no one to save him now.
“Chanyeol’s not going to do anything because he knows he’s going to lose, no
matter what,” Baekhyun taunts.
Chanyeol, in a perfect imitation of a three year old, flicks Baekhyun in the
head and sticks his tongue out at him. He starts to sing “Hero, hero, hero,
hero, hero, hero, hero, I’m a hero,” loudly in a low voice and Baekhyun
thankfully rushes to put a hand over his mouth.
“No, stop it, every time we do this you’re always pretending to be Simon D and
that’s so boring.”
Jongin internally gloats because Chanyeol’s voice is muffled, but nothing
actually stops Chanyeol from trying to make himself heard. He croons and hums
despite Baekhyun’s attempts to silence him and Jongin only stops himself from
strangling Chanyeol because he doesn’t want to wake Sehun.
“Can you stop?” Baekhyun says, a little out of breath, “It’s like six in the
morning, I’m not awake enough for this!”
Chanyeol momentarily pauses.
“Wait, ew, what the fuck, did you just lick me?” Baekhyun removes his hand from
Chanyeol’s face as quickly as possible and wipes saliva on Chanyeol’s jeans.
Jongin gives both of them a look of disgust. Baekhyun is now reenacting a scene
from The Simpsons and Chanyeol is interjecting his best Bart voice at
appropriate intervals. He turns away from them and stares at Sehun’s reflection
in the window. Jongin hates car rides.
 
When they finally arrive at the airport, Jongin is already exhausted from
having to listen to bickering the entire car ride there. Fans shrieking into
his ears are the last things he wants to deal with. He spots them even before
they’ve driven up to the drop-off area, the gaggle of them, anxiously peering
at them, on the lookout. He tries to steel himself as they approach. He thought
Chanyeol was being loud, but he knows that one person singing is nothing
compared to what he’s about to hear when he steps out of the car.
Jongin nudges Sehun awake as gently as he can. Sehun comes to slowly, and makes
an irritated face.
“You move a lot when you’re sitting in a car, you know?” Sehun complains.
“Next time, you don’t have to lean against me,” Jongin retorts.
By the time Sehun’s realized where they are, Joonmyeon is already stepping
outside, and Sehun groans into Jongin, who unbuckles their seatbelts and grabs
their bags quickly. He hands Sehun’s to him without a word and grimaces as he’s
greeted by loud screaming when gets off the car. He doesn’t look at any of the
girls standing there, only looks up behind him to make sure that Sehun is
following. The entire walk to the check-in terminal, he keeps his head down and
carefully avoids bumping into anyone. They shove things at him, posters, gifts,
and pictures they want him to see. He’s a little overwhelmed by cameras
flashing from every angle, and wonders how they can be so energetic this early
in the morning.
Even as EXO and their staff are lining up, he hears occasional bursts of
shouting. It’s really too early for this. He’s barely awake, and is only
standing at all because of an extra cup of coffee. Shoulders hunched, he knows
that he’s radiating grumpiness and wonders why that in itself doesn’t deter the
insistent cheering and constant attempts by the fans to get a raise out of him
by yelling his name as loudly as they can.
“You’ve got my attention, why can’t you just keep quiet?” He mumbles through
gritted teeth.
Joonmyeon whacks him in the back of his head and chastises him. “Be nice. Smile
at them or something. Fanservice, remember?”
Sehun snickers at him before going off to find Zitao so he can point out one of
the funnier signs even though Zitao probably won’t understand what it means.
Jongin sighs. He’s sleepy, and he’s annoyed, and he doesn't want to give
fanservice. It’s easier just to lean against Lu Han and close his eyes for a
bit. Lu Han doesn’t flinch, just accepts Jongin into his space and continues
talking to Minseok.
“They’re such a good team,” Lu Han complains, “But they just can’t finish
strong in games. I can’t tell you how frustrating their complacency issues are
to me, much less how much it must suck for them.”
“Half of them are on Bayern, and Bayern doesn’t have nearly the same difficulty
with holding on,” Minseok is insisting, “They just don’t practice enough
together.”
“So help me god if one more person tells me that their greatest weakness is
their defense, I will eat that someone’s face.”
Minseok nods in agreement before saying, “Hey, wait, not mine right?”
Lu Han ignores this comment. “If one more person hounds Lahm or Mertesacker…”
He looks murderous, and it’s probably not a look the fans should see.
“And England? Portugal? Their chances?” Minseok tries weakly, in a hurried
attempt to steer the topic away from a more dangerously disposed Lu Han.
“Don’t talk to me about either of them. Just don’t. I don’t want to think about
it.”
“Spain,” Jongin whispers into Lu Han’s ear, to some fan’s delight.
Lu Han shifts away from Jongin and frowns. “Brazil’s probably going to win the
cup, or something,” he says loudly, “Even though I don’t like it. If it’s a
European team, it will definitely be Germany.”
Jongin laughs. He thinks about Ramos, Xavi, Villa, Casillas, Iniesta, and
Torres, and knows that the Spanish team is the favourite to win the 2014 World
Cup, even if only South American teams have so far ever won the cup in South
America.
This is easy, this leaning against others and just talking to them kind of
fanservice. It keeps Jongin’s mind away from the fans and the camaraderie is
comforting. He watches as Zitao and Sehun tease each other, poking and prodding
and laughing. The kinds of friendships they’ve built with each other have
become a form of fanservice too.
 
After getting through security and arriving at the gates, Jongin finally gets
the chance to sit down and slump in his seat. It’s only been a couple hours
since he woke up in the morning, but he feels like an entire day has already
passed. He settles his backpack beside his feet and fishes out an iPod from
within. He’s plugging in the earphones when Sehun settles down beside him.
Jongin slides an earbud in place and offers the other one to Sehun, who takes
it without looking.
They sit, side-by-side, silent until their flight is called. Sehun makes him
laugh at all the right times, and they swap saliva almost as frequently as they
swap silly stories with each other. In the end it’s in moments like this one,
when they aren’t even looking at each other but simply enjoying each other’s
presence, that Jongin feels most at ease. It reminds him that it doesn’t matter
what language they speak, that they don’t need hand gestures or even physical
touch to know how the other is feeling.
“Let’s go,” Sehun says, and drags Jongin up out of his seat like Jongin had
dragged Sehun off the car earlier that day.
“Better take one last deep breath before we’re in the hazy air of Beijing
again.”
“I like Beijing.”
“Whatever.”
They walk in step with each other to the queue, passports and boarding passes
in hand. The music that they’re sharing pulses between them and for the first
time since they first began travelling out of Korea for performances, Jongin
doesn’t feel like he’s flying away from home.
 

The first thing Jongin does when they arrive at the hotel is to find a space
where he can practice. He hates leaving Korea because he doesn’t have a
rehearsal studio. He hates flights even more than he hates sitting in a car
because the time spent in a cramped space is even longer and he can never feel
his legs when he gets up. It's a very painful kind of numbness, and in order to
stretch out all his limbs, he always ends up on the roof or some equally
bizarre place just so he can get blood flowing in his veins again. He knows
that at least twelve fans had followed them into the building, and probably
three have the guts to take the elevator up with them. Someone's going to end
up blogging about how disrespectful it is, and someone else will have to post a
warm note about how much everyone in EXO loves their fans. It's almost become
routine, and Jongin needs to get away from it.
As soon as the elevator announces their arrival in recreation floor, Jongin
finds himself amongst a whole lot of unused gym equipment and a whole lack of
people. He turns up the volume on his iPod, shoves it into the pocket of his
hoodie, and lets himself go. He's stiff and sore and cold, and his neck is
still in pain from when he fell asleep awkwardly pressed against the window,
but it feels good just to not be sitting still. The others are probably
napping, unpacking, or doing some kind of relaxing activity like normal
individuals. They have a schedule in the afternoon, and everyone's still tired
from the plane ride. In a sense, it's better that Jongin's up here dancing, so
that he doesn't end up falling asleep again and finding it impossible to wake
up.
There's a lot of choreography in Jongin's body. Preprogrammed to each song that
he's learned, things that he's picked up from Taemin, or pieces of choreography
that he's had to memorize for the dozen EXO teasers that he danced for. It's
all in there, along with anything that dance teachers and professional
instructors had shown him over the years. And he pulls out whatever he can
think of now, to music that he wishes he could dance to regularly, pushing
himself to sweat and feel alive. He doesn't stop until a stunned couple comes
across him midway through twisting his torso. He hurriedly stops and bows to
them, rushing off so that they can sit and enjoy the pool. They probably think
he's crazy, or something, and definitely don't recognize him as a Korean pop
idol.
He takes the stairs back down, since his body is still charged with adrenaline
and he feels like he could move perpetually. Back in his hotel room, Sehun is
watching weird cartoon shows playing in Chinese that he definitely doesn't
understand and Zitao is eating ice cream while telling Sehun a story. Sehun
probably doesn't understand what Zitao's saying to him either. If there’s
anyone who’s been lazier about keeping up with their Mandarin homework than
Jongin, it’s Sehun.
Jongin slips into the shower and washes the sweat off his skin. This is perhaps
the most enjoyable and least enjoyable part about being in China. He always
feels slightly sticky, like there’s a layer of something covering him that he
can’t wash off. No matter how hard he scrubs, it stays there. But whenever he’s
in the bathroom, all the freebies that come with the hotel room are a blessing.
The warm water rolls off his back and the scent of the shampoo and conditioner
is nicer than the ones he uses at home, even if they're probably of poorer
quality. When he turns off the water, the TV is still playing and he can hear
Sehun giggling. Jongin dries himself quickly and wraps a fluffy hotel bathrobe
around himself before joining the other two in front of the television.
 
Closer to the time that they have to leave, Zitao slips out to go back to his
own room, and Jongin thinks he should probably put on some actual clothes,
reluctant as he is to change out of the comfortable robe. Sehun doesn't take
his eyes off of what he's watching, immersed in identifying the one or two
words in Mandarin that he actually knows and laughing at the misery of the main
character. Jongin doesn't even bother pretending he can follow what's going on,
even though the plot doesn't seem to be all that intensive. China makes him
feel all out of sorts, because everything that seems like it could be familiar
isn't quite.
Even talking to the other members is a little strange. Lu Han slips into
Mandarin quickly, just because he sees all the signs are in Chinese, and even
though he only speaks in Korean to Jongin, it seems weird hearing Lu Han's
native tongue at any other point in time. It makes him just confused enough
that he doesn't feel comfortable in his own skin, but it's not strange enough
that he can numb himself against it. It's probably a sign that he should be
paying more attention in their Mandarin tutoring classes, and stop playing
video games when he should be revising for pronunciation and vocabulary, but he
knows that the Korean members in Super Junior-M all got by with only a few
phrases. Besides, dancing's supposed to be a universal language that transcends
whatever dialect it is that their fans are speaking, or whatever.
For the entire time that they're at the photo shoot, there are two sets of
orders that are called out. The actual photographer keeps yelling things in
simple Mandarin, and it's clear that only two or three of the Korean members
understand what he's saying. The second set of instructions is coming from a
translator, and Jongin wonders if they've ever tried yelling something wrong or
the opposite of what was wanted just to see the chaos that would erupt. He
would have a lot of fun playing around like that, but it would probably get
someone fired.
In the interview that follows, only Wu Fan, Lu Han, Yixing, Zitao, Joonmyeon,
Jongdae, and Minseok actually answer questions. The other five of them sit
around, nodding at appropriate intervals, and trying not to look like they have
no idea what's going on. Jongin has not a single clue what they're saying, or
what they're being asked. Even with the translator, there's too much that he
doesn't understand for him to keep trying to pay attention. He's not as
diligent as Joonmyeon when it comes to being involved in the conversation, and
he knows that even Chanyeol and Baekhyun, who usually both have a lot to say,
have lost the trail of the discussion a long time ago.
When someone announces that they’re finished, Jongin feels relieved. They bow
to all the staff working there, and smile whenever someone smiles at them.
He'll probably be scolded later, for not even trying to say something simple,
even though Lu Han had been training him to say cheesy things like “I love my
fans” and “You are so beautiful” for days in advance. He’s too tired to care,
much too interested in getting back to their hotel to finally go to sleep.
As usual, there are screaming fans in the lobby of the hotel when they arrive.
He doesn't know how they keep doing it, finding them wherever they go, and then
sharing their information with all their friends. They might as well be
screaming their location out to the entire world. Jongin almost wonders why EXO
even bothers trying to avoid them anymore; it seems like an impossible task. No
matter where they go, day or night, someone will inevitably spot them and in
the ensuing chaos, an EXO member will always either get hurt or really pissed
off. It's a miracle that he can walk through the crowd of them at all, and an
even bigger miracle that he doesn't get stuck on the elevator with any of them
on the way up. He imagines that's probably the most awkward situation that any
idol can be put in, and thinks that it's strange the fans don't find it awkward
too.
Sehun takes another twenty minutes to get up to their shared room.
“I’m alive,” he announces dramatically after opening the door.
“Did you get caught by one of them or something?”
“They just refuse to get out of your hair,” Sehun says, fluffing his own hair.
“What happened?”
“Had to take a back entrance. There was no way anyone in our van was going to
get through the crowd. I have no idea how the lot of you got up here
unscathed,” Sehun complains. He sighs exaggeratedly.
Jongin snorts a little. Unscathed today, but there's no telling what would
happen tomorrow. There's anxiety in him whenever they have to go out in public
these days, and he should be used to it by now, but he's not.
Sehun lets Jongin use the bathroom first. Jongin brushes his teeth and washes
all of the make up off his face as quickly as he can so Sehun can get to
shower. He collapses onto his bed gracelessly and removes all of his clothes
except for his boxers before slipping under the covers. With the bed lamp still
on, he ends up reading a volume of manhwa as Sehun goes through his own bedtime
routine. When Sehun gets out of the shower, he doesn't even pretend to go on
his bed. He dries off his hair and throws his towel into a hamper before diving
in beside Jongin.
“Read to me.”
“It's a comic, Sehun, it’s not exactly like a bedtime story that you can read
to small children. Half of what's going on is explained in pictures.”
Sehun laughs. “Alright, let me read too.”
Jongin can never refuse Sehun whenever he asks for something.
When they're finished the book, it's a little past midnight and Jongin wants
nothing more than to sleep. He's about to turn off the light when Sehun
whispers into his ear, “Jonginnie.”
Jongin shivers. He's tired but –.
Sehun is insistent. Neither of them is wearing very much anyway, and he doesn't
resist when Sehun kisses him.
“Fuck,” Jongin whispers.
“Fuck,” Sehun agrees, “I've wanted your dick in my mouth since you put that
suit on.”
Jongin can't breathe. He takes a moment to slide his tongue along Sehun's
bottom lip and ends up getting pushed down into the mattress as Sehun rolls
over on top of him. He's tired, but it's been a while since he's had any
release. He's tired, but Sehun is sucking on his tongue. He's tired, but he
wants this, badly. He's tired, but he remembers that earlier today he realized
he was in love with his best friend and he hopes that Sehun doesn't realize
anything's changed when he presses his tongue against the roof of Sehun’s
mouth, exploring everywhere, and claiming Sehun’s tongue for his own.
Sehun's fingers slide down his chest and Jongin moans.
“Shh, we don't want Lu Han hyung hearing and then making fun of us in the
morning, do we?”
Sehun pinches one of Jongin's nipples with his thumb and index finger and
gently sucks on the other. Jongin slips a hand in between Sehun's legs, cups
his balls and squeezes at his cock. He releases his hands in order to position
Sehun's hips just so, aligning the two of them so that their dicks slide
against each other, forcing Sehun to stop what he’s doing and catch his breath.
Jongin trails open mouthed kisses along Sehun’s jaw and doesn't stop rubbing
against him, cocks brushing against each other through the fabric of their
boxers.
“Stop, fuck, if you keep doing this, I'm going to come,” Sehun says, all the
while humping Jongin rather willingly.
“Isn't that the point?” Jongin asks, increasing the friction between them and
wrapping a leg around Sehun’s waist.
Sehun responds by shifting his body weight back on his knees and gripping the
waistband of Jongin's boxers to remove them. He takes off his own and slides
further down the bed so that he can position his head at Jongin's pelvis. He
runs a hand along the length of Jongin's cock and Jongin strains against his
fingers, hips arching upward and head leaning back into the pillow. He growls.
“Awake now? You've been sleepy all day.”
Jongin can't respond any more than by gasping out Sehun's name. Sehun darts his
tongue out to wet his lips, and touches the tip of Jongin's cock with his
mouth. Jongin's breathing is heavy as Sehun licks and sucks slowly and
deliberately. It's enough that Jongin desperately wants release, but not enough
that Jongin can actually find it. Sehun takes Jongin’s entire dick into his
mouth and hums. Jongin closes his eyes and summons all of his self-control to
prevent himself from screaming. With one hand he threads fingers in Sehun's
hair, with the other, he runs fingers along Sehun’s cock. Sehun's mouth is hot
and wet and feels incredible against his skin. Sehun licks a stripe from the
base of Jongin's cock to the tip and Jongin has to pull away.
“Here,” Jongin manages breathily, “Come and turn your body over here.”
Sehun obliges, lies so that Jongin has access to his cock without taking his
mouth off of Jongin’s. Jongin takes Sehun in his hand, strokes slowly and then
takes him in his mouth. Sehun makes a spluttering sound around Jongin's dick.
Jongin keeps his lips around him, lets Sehun thrust into his mouth over and
over, all while still sucking Jongin’s dick. Jongin repays the service,
flattens his tongue and licks. He fists Sehun with his hand and circles the tip
of Sehun’s cock with his tongue, rubs his lips against it and kisses his way
down to Sehun’s balls. He takes all of Sehun’s dick into his mouth again, and
tries not to gag when he feels Sehun in the back of his throat. It isn’t
textbook, but it’s instinctive and it’s the only thing Jongin knows. The
pooling sensation in the pit of his stomach builds; he’s almost there and then
Sehun’s coming into his mouth. Sehun throws his head back and gasps when he
comes, and Jongin is coming too, all over Sehun’s face.
“You fucker,” Sehun complains as he tries to clean himself up with tissues.
“Not my fault. Could’ve been coming down your throat but you had all of the
poor sense to stop sucking before I was done,” Jongin sniffs.
“Still a fucker.”
“Here,” Jongin offers, and ends up washing Sehun’s face for him.
They sleep in the same bed, Sehun curled into Jongin. Jongin’s smiling as he
closes his eyes, and just before he falls asleep, he thinks I love you. He
sleeps soundly that night, and forgets the fact that he’s in an unfamiliar
country and in an unfamiliar bed. The body that’s warm and beside him is as
familiar as it gets.
 
 
Jongin sleeps so well that he almost misses his alarm. Rather than waking up
before everyone else, by the time Jongin opens his eyes, Sehun is already
dressed and heading downstairs. Jongin doesn’t get to the breakfast lounge
until almost everyone else is gathered in small groups around tables. There’s
an entire breakfast buffet laid out with a variety of cuisines but Jongin has
little appetite. He waits in line to pick up a mug of coffee and holds it
gingerly as he walks over to a table and tries not to spill any of it. He sits
down beside Sehun just in time to hear Lu Han saying something.
“Sehun-ah, were you sleepwalking last night? Did you walk into a closet or
something, is there a reason why there’s bruising down your jaw–”
Lu Han pauses for a moment and peers closely at Jongin’s face, eyes lidded and
mostly asleep.
“Oh. I see.”
Jongin yawns and doesn’t process what’s going on. He takes a sip of his drink
and sets it down before trying to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. He feels
more well rested in comparison to usual, but that really means nothing in the
grand scheme of things, considering that his average hours of sleep a night
hovers around three. He downs the coffee even though it’s scalding and doesn’t
feel awake until he’s drunk the last drop.
When he opens his eyes clearly, Lu Han is glancing back and forth between
Jongin and Sehun with a smirk plastered across his face.
“You know the make up staff are going to be teasing you about hickeys for weeks
right?”
Jongin blinks a few times before feeling himself blush.
“Aw, look Jonginnie’s turning red. It’s okay Jongin-ah, I would know. Hyung
knows that in the prime of your youth, one tends to have these manly urges, and
Sehun-ah’s so adorable it must be hard to resist.”
“Shut. Up,” Jongin glares at Lu Han with as much anger as he can muster, which
isn’t very much at all because he feels relaxed. He frowns at himself and tries
to glare again. “Fuck your manliness and manly urges.”
Lu Han just smiles at him some more. The more Lu Han smiles at him, and the
wider Lu Han’s smile becomes, the more embarrassed Jongin feels.
“Jongin-ah, don’t worry, even though you just look like an adorable puppy right
now, you’re definitely manly in my books.”
Jongin tries for another glare, but jumps in his seat when Zitao sets his
breakfast down at their table too, a plate of grapefruit pieces and a huge
glass of water. His luck’s always been shitty.
“Why are we affirming Jongin’s masculinity?” Zitao asks, before placing a piece
of fruit into his mouth. He looks at Jongin with judging eyes, as if
determining if he’s wearing something wrong. Jongin slides further down into
his seat and tries not to be offended.
“Jongin’s just embarrassed,” Lu Han exclaims, “It’s nothing to be worried
about!”
“What is he so embarrassed about this time? Did another fan catch him making
cute faces at himself in the mirror or something?”
Lu Han tilts his head in Sehun’s direction just as Sehun sleepily asks, “What
do you mean another fan caught him making faces? He’s done that more than
once?”
Zitao ignores Sehun’s comment and laughs. “Our babies are growing up so fast.
Don’t forget to use protection now.”
“Oh my god,” Jongin says, covering his face with his hand. Lu Han coos at him.
Sehun snorts. “Hyung, it’s not like you haven’t known that we’ve been fucking
for months now.”
“Yeah, but usually you’re not so obvious. Also, usually we don’t have breakfast
together like this where I get to make you feel awkward.” Zitao is absolutely
gleeful as he eats. The smirk doesn’t leave his face even as he chews.
Lu Han pipes in with, “I’m getting old, Sehun-ah, let the hyungs have their
fun, alright? You two are so cute!” He pulls out his Instax Mini.
Sehun rolls his eyes and seems completely undisturbed as he continues eating
his piece of French toast. “Bbuing bbuing,” he says without opening his eyelids
fully.
Jongin bangs his head into the table and refuses to look up. “This is the
worst. This is the absolute worst. And to think we even tried to keep it down.
I mean. Shit.”
“Oh, so that’s what the moaning sounds coming from your room were!”
“Huang Zitao, I’m going to punch you in the face.”
Just as Jongin lifts his head to glare threateningly in Zitao’s direction, Lu
Han hits the shutter button and snaps a shot. He pulls out the film the camera
spits out and leaves it in his lap to dry. When the image clears, he holds it
just out of Jongin’s reach to show them the rather unattractive photo of Jongin
glaring and Sehun looking at his breakfast with absolutely no interest. Jongin
pouts, and when Lu Han doesn’t hand the picture over, he glares at everyone at
the table.
After breakfast, they’re supposed to head to the performance venue. Their
managers make them rush in an attempt to get them out of the building before
even more fans arrive and get in the way of the exit. Jongin already notices
some taxis idling around, and the horde of fans never seems to disappear, even
if the people in the group change. Already, the hotel staff members are sick of
their constant presence and have yelled at them more than once for blocking up
the entrance. Jongin feels sorry for them, but not as sorry as he feels for EXO
themselves, who have to get through the group just to get out of the building.
One of their managers approaches them and carefully whispers, “We’ll probably
have to take the back entrance. You’ll try to get out there in groups of twos
or threes so that they don’t take notice. Even still, there might be fans back
there already, so be careful.”
Jongin rolls his eyes and tries to keep up behind Lu Han as closely as possible
when they get up. Sehun seems to be falling asleep again, and leans on Lu Han’s
shoulder the entire time that they’re walking. Jongin tries to keep his head
down and hides behind Zitao. As they’re waiting for the vans to pull up in the
back, a swallowtail lands on Sehun’s shoulder. Jongin blinks at it while Zitao
coos and hurries to take a picture with his phone.
“What are you two doing?” Lu Han asks.
“Oh my god, just look at it, it’s a butterfly!”
Lu Han joins Zitao in the cooing and Jongin laughs.
“What the fuck guys, you’re three fully grown adults star struck by an over-
glorified caterpillar,” Sehun complains, but he remains still so that it
doesn’t move away.
Zitao is about to defend the butterfly when a group of fans spot them and
shriek. It flies away while they dash towards them and Jongin becomes
incredibly put out, both by the presence of fans, as well as the fact that the
butterfly was scared away. He jumps behind Lu Han so that they can’t see him,
and can’t be grateful enough when the van pulls up.
Lu Han gets on first, and Jongin is about to step on when he turns to look at
Sehun, who looks like he can barely stand up from being so tired.
He thinks back to the ride to the airport and asks, “Did you want to sit next
to Lu Han hyung? So you can sleep, since I move around too much and all?”
Sehun shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “It’s alright, I’ll just lean against
the window.”
Jongin shrugs and sits down beside Lu Han. As Sehun buckles himself in, he
tries to stifle another yawn.
“You know you didn’t actually move around a lot right? I don’t really mind,
anyway,” He says, before closing his eyes and putting his head on Jongin’s
shoulder again.
Jongin leans his head back against Sehun’s and smiles.
Zitao pokes Jongin in the head from behind them and makes hearts with his hands
when Jongin finally bothers to turn around and glare at him. Zitao giggles and
feigns innocence, but does it again as soon as Jongin turns his head back. He
ignores him this time, and turns to elbow Lu Han.
“Share your music.”
Lu Han takes out an earbud and holds it out to Jongin, scrolling for a song
that they both know. Jongin’s about to put the earbud in his ear when he hears
the sudden skidding of brakes. The earbud falls out of his hand when their car
swerves sharply to the right. Someone screams and then another car is slamming
into their van right where–.
He hears it after it happens, a crunch of metal, shattering glass, bones
breaking. He doesn’t feel anything until after he hears it, and pain shoots up
his entire right arm where he’s instinctively reached out to wrap it around
Sehun. He can feel Lu Han touching him, trying to figure out if he’s okay and
then he blacks out.
The sounds of sirens wake him up and his first thought is fuck, I hate car
rides. His second is fuck,
“Sehun-ah? Where’s Sehun?”
He tries to get up but he can’t, he feels like his world is spinning, his eyes
are closing, where the fuck is Sehun, and he feels someone’s hand squeezing
his, is it Sehun’s it better fucking be Sehun’s and he loses consciousness
again.
 
 
A day passes, and then another. When Jongin wakes up, there's a doctor in his
room. He opens his eyes and sees an unfamiliar white paneled ceiling. It blurs
a little, and he closes his eyes again. Unfamiliar rooms aren't uncommon in his
life. Suddenly, to his right, he hears someone speaking to him in Mandarin. He
doesn't know what they're saying to him. He turns his head towards the voice
and opens his eyes to see the doctor, gently repeating his question.
Jongin blinks and tries to bolt up in his bed. He struggles to sit up and
begins processing his surroundings. IV drips, a cast on his arm, a man in
scrubs with a stethoscope in his room, and suddenly Jongin is screaming.
Nothing comes out, his throat is dry and his silent screaming hurts. It sets
off a sharp pain in his head and he has to close his eyes again. That's when
the memories hit him, the image of sitting inside a destroyed car, the noises,
the sirens, being in an ambulance, but he can't remember any details of what
happened.
“Sehun?” He manages to croak out, “Sehun-ah? Where's Sehun, is he alright?”
He turns towards the doctor, who gets up to find a manager who can communicate
with Jongin, or a translator, since he can't understand Korean. Jongin grabs
the doctor by the wrist, winces in pain as his shoulder feels like it's being
torn off just from a small stretch, and shakes him.
“Do you know where Oh Sehun is?” Jongin asks desperately, and the doctor shakes
his head, not a 'no' but to try to tell Jongin he can't understand him. Jongin
takes it to mean that the doctor doesn’t know where Sehun is, and it makes him
more agitated.
Jongin drops his hand and closes his eyes. He counts to five in his head and
takes a deep breath. After he exhales, he slumps back against his bed, head
hitting the pillow rather painfully. When he opens his eyes again, one of their
managers is following the doctor back into his room. He begins calling out to
her but she speaks first.
“Can you tell us your name?”
“Of course I can,” Jongin says irately, and pulls himself up to a sitting
position again. “Kim Jongin, I–.”
He's cut off a second time by her gentle but firm voice. “Do you remember what
happened, Jongin-ah?”
“What happened? We were in the van, and someone crashed into us,” He says and
remembers his original plight, the question he was trying to ask before he was
interrupted. “Sehun, Sehun was beside me in the van, that's where the other car
crashed into us. Where's Sehun, Sehun, where is he? Is he alright?”
“Calm down, Jongin, I have to ask these questions because the doctors need to
make sure you're alright.”
“I'm perfectly fine, as you can see! But just tell me, Sehun, he's okay isn't
he? And the others, everyone else in the car, they're okay too?” Jongin's words
begin to slur together, and his head starts to throb with pain.
“Sehun's in traction right now, he's been there overnight. The others in the
car sustained minor injuries, but will all be released from hospital today or
tomorrow. The doctors want to run some tests before they let you go. There will
be one of us around, or one of the other members. They've all been sleeping at
the hospital. It's a mess outside, the fans, the company...” She looks at him
and rethinks her speech. “Never mind. You just focus on getting better, and
things will work out from here.”
“I'm fine,” Jongin says again, “There's nothing wrong with me, let me leave so
I can go see him!” He can’t stop himself when his head hits the pillow again
because he can't fight the pain that's building.
“Jongin-ah!” She says sharply, and the doctor's hands are against his neck,
feeling his head.
“It..hurts...” Jongin supplies weakly, and his world blacks out again.
 
The next time Jongin opens his eyes again, he can't feel his hand. At first,
he's terrified that it's been injured so badly that they had to amputate it,
but when he looks down, he realizes that it's just numb because Chanyeol's
gripping it too hard, and has fallen asleep with his head squashing Jongin's
arm into the mattress. It makes him titter a little at being so jumpy and quick
to judge things for the worst. He takes a deep breath, feeling lucky that he’s
alive. Jongin then uses his elbow to nudge Chanyeol and shakes his arm so as to
wake up him from his slumber.
“Fuck, what time is it? Oh, you're awake?” Chanyeol says groggily, one eye open
and focused on Jongin's face, the other still closed.
Jongin looks at him and sees the eye bags, swollen, dark, and the paleness and
discolouration that mar Chanyeol's cheeks. He can't have been getting much
sleep recently. It makes Jongin wonder what he himself looks like, always
passed out but never eating actual food.
“I'm awake,” Jongin whispers, afraid to raise his voice any higher.
Chanyeol releases Jongin's hand from his grip and rubs his face. He wipes his
eyes and blinks a few times before yawning.
“Chanyeol,” Jongin starts, and Chanyeol’s face gathers sharply, as if he
expects Jongin to tell him that he thinks he's dying and needs a doctor right
this instant. “Look at me,” he says. Chanyeol does. He looks Jongin in the eye
with the most worried expression that Jongin's ever seen.
“Please,” Jongin says, “Tell me what the fuck happened.”
They maintain eye contact and Chanyeol opens and closes his mouth once before
sighing and nodding his head. He looks down at Jongin's arm, the one in a cast,
and frowns a little before beginning to speak.
The first part of the story is nothing new to Jongin. He had worked out the
series of events that had unfolded days earlier fairly quickly, being able to
remember the moments leading up to the crash rather clearly in his mind. The
taxi in front of them had braked unexpectedly as a result of noticing a nearby
passenger. The driver of EXO's van had swerved quickly in an attempt to avoid
crashing into them. He had clipped the car in front of them anyway, but no one
had been hurt at that point in time. The problem had happened afterward, when
the driver of the SUV behind them, in the middle of a business call on his cell
phone, couldn't brake in time and smashed into the middle of the passenger side
of EXO's van.
Chanyeol looks up after he's finished this part of the story, voice
surprisingly tender and quiet. Jongin's staring at him intently.
“Some pedestrian called an ambulance, but we were ahead of you guys so we
didn't even know that anything had happened until we were several traffic
lights ahead and the manager in your van called the manager in ours. We weren't
told what happened, only the driver had pulled us over and we were told to stay
put and then all the staff seemed to disappear. The six of us inside kept
wondering what was going on, and Joonmyeon called Wu Fan, who didn't pick up,
and then we were really worried. Joonmyeon-hyung looked like he was going to
leap out of the van and strangle one of the staff for information, and I've
never seen Baekhyun bite his fingernails, but I'm pretty sure that's what he
was doing and, sorry, I'm rambling,” Chanyeol says and then sighs.
“Well, it turned out that the van had basically ploughed into you guys, and
then when we finally found out what was going on, we headed to the hospital,
this hospital, since the ambulance was already taking you guys here. And,
yeah...” Chanyeol finishes.
Jongin doesn’t say anything for a while, and simply looks at him. When Chanyeol
doesn’t look like he’s going to continue, Jongin frowns a little. “No, I mean,
what happened to everyone inside the car.”
There's a sharp inhale, followed by, “Well, other than being really shaken, the
manager and the driver were both unscathed, since they were in the front seats.
Lu Han-hyung got away with only a couple of bruises. It turns out he was trying
to make sure you weren't thrown out of your seat. For some reason, Minseok-
hyung flew into Zitao, and they were both kind of beaten up, but Wu Fan hyung
got out of it pretty much fine. Minseok had a lot of lacerations in his arms
from glass and metal digging into him, so he's really bandaged up and taking it
easy.”
It doesn’t escape Jongin’s notice that Sehun’s not mentioned again. “Chanyeol,
just tell me what happened to Sehun, please,” Jongin is begging now. He's
starting to fear the worst, because no one will tell him what happened to his
best friend, and he wants to vomit, he thinks about how much he loves Sehun
and, “Sehun. What happened to Sehun?”
“I...Jongin-ah, Sehun was in traction for an entire night,” Chanyeol says.
“I know that!” Jongin explodes, “What does that even mean, I, will someone
please tell me what the hell is going on?”
“The doctors thought that he might lose function in most, if not all of his
muscles.”
Jongin stills. “What?”
“He should be fine now, I mean I think, I think he's okay now. They're going to
perform surgery on him here, in Beijing hospital. They're scared to move him
back to Korea for surgery, so his parents are flying over. And then they're
going to send us back in small groups so that we don't attract attention. No
one's made a statement about this, and we think that none of the fans saw. Or
if they did, they're keeping it quiet. Baekhyun, Jongdae and Kyungsoo were sent
back yesterday. Yixing, Zitao, Wu Fan, and Lu Han are going to get some time to
visit their families. I'm going back with Minseok and Joonmyeon tomorrow.
There’ll be managers to stay with you and Sehun. But Jongin, his femur was
shattered. The reason why your arm is so badly done is because you had yanked
him towards you to protect his head, but Sehun's entire right leg is hurt
pretty bad.” Chanyeol pauses and tries to catch his breath. “Really, really
bad,” he says again, for emphasis or to find where he was again, Jongin doesn’t
know. He lowers his voice to a whisper and Jongin thinks he hears his heart
break, “I don't think he'll be dancing anytime soon. Not for a year, at least.”
He turns his head away. “I think, we're being sent back and given vacations
because EXO is going on an unofficial indefinite hiatus.”
Jongin's world collapses.
 
They run tests and scans on him. Eventually, the headache is chalked up to a
mild head injury, combined with trauma and malnutrition. The pain dissipates
quickly and Jongin finds himself functioning with a clear head sooner rather
than later. Chanyeol leaves the day after he has his conversation with Jongin,
and Jongin spends nights pretending to sleep rather than talking to staff. It's
like this that he misses his only chance to visit Sehun. Every time he gathers
enough courage to speak to the nurses, he realizes that he doesn't have enough
courage to actually look Sehun's parents in the eye, much less talk to them
about their son and his injuries. And even after that, if he convinces himself
that speaking to them wouldn't be too bad, Jongin realizes that seeing Sehun
lying immobile on a hospital bed would be too much for him to handle.
Jongin is discharged within a week of his time of entry to the hospital, and is
driven to the airport in a black town car. Their manager carries everything for
him, and he keeps his face hidden under a hat and a hoodie, and for the first
time since Jongin had become Kai, there's no fan screaming his name at him when
he gets out of the vehicle to step into the line for the airport's check-in, no
slew of cameras or posters. He would have been so grateful for the break, but
not like this, not at the expense of someone's well being.
The entire plane ride is quiet. Jongin brutally remembers how much he hates
sitting on an airplane for lengthy amounts of time, up in the air,
uncomfortable, unable to stretch out. He doesn't listen to music or watch an
episode of an anime on his phone. He spends the entire time staring out the
window and thinking, thinking to himself, thinking about himself, but mostly
thinking about Sehun. He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until his manager,
who’s carrying Jongin’s bag, is shaking him awake.
“I’'ll take it,” Jongin says roughly, and lifts the bag onto his own shoulders.
His arm's broken, not his entire body, not like Sehun who can't get up and
move, not like Sehun who's stuck lying in a hospital bed for the next few
weeks. He follows his manager obediently through the gates, silent and sullen
the entire way.
“There's a car waiting to take you back to the dorms,” his manager says, when
they near the exit.
Jongin nods.
“And the group is going to have an extended vacation of sorts for the next
little while. Try not to be seen out too much, don't get into any trouble.”
“Aren't you coming with me to the dorms?” Jongin asks.
“There's so much stuff to do and figure out...No, I'm going back to the
company.”
Jongin swallows. He doesn't say goodbye. He sits in the car and looks on,
completely unaware of the waving figure who closes the door behind him. Even as
they drive into the underground parking of the dorms, he's oblivious to his
surroundings. He only jumps to awareness when he hears the doors of the car
unlock, and thanks the driver, rushing out with his luggage before he can be
asked if he needs help.
He drags all of his stuff with him up to their rooms and pauses outside the
door. He looks at it, and wants to laugh at himself because of how cowardly he
feels. He can't laugh. He forces down a sob and leans back against the wall in
the corridor. He slides down and sits, feeling pathetically small. Jongin pulls
his phone out from his pocket and dials his manager.
“Hello?”
“Hyung, I know this is late, but do you think there's somewhere else I can stay
tonight? I don’t know, the dorms, I just don’t know if I’ll be alright here.”
There's a pause.
“I'll see what I can do.”
 
 
Four hours later, they meet up in the underground of the dorms and Jongin is
taken away, driven out to an older apartment building some twenty minutes from
the dorms. They take the stairs up and Jongin notices that his manager looks
absolutely exhausted. He tries not to think about how tired he must look too.
“What is this place?” Jongin asks.
They pause on the landing and their manager turns to him.
“The company owns a few small properties meant mostly to act as safe houses in
case of a scandal or something like that. This one's a repurposed studio
apartment, so there's not much in it other than a bed. I hope you have
toiletries and things with you.”
Jongin looks at him. They continue up the stairs.
“Someone will be by with basic food necessities tomorrow. They can bring you
what you need. Don't expect meals or anything, it'll probably be ramyun and
kimchi for a while.”
He opens the door to reveal a tiny room with a single wire frame bed in the
corner. The floorboards look old and dusty and the walls are an ugly beige
colour.
“Strictly speaking, I only managed to get this room because I cited privacy
issues. If you're wondering, you're here because you're terrified that a
fangirl is going to come find you and corner you or a group of them will
surround you and you'll be injured again or your injury will get worse. That's
all I can really say.”
Jongin opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it.
“Don't worry. I'll be in touch,” his manager says and indicates a landline
phone on the kitchen counter that Jongin hadn't noticed before. He doesn't
think he's seen a landline in ages.
With that, his manager leaves. The door closes and Jongin is alone.
 
 
Jongin drops his stuff to the floor and sits on the mattress. He's finally
alone, and he thinks he should be able to breathe again, but there's no sense
of relief. Each breath he breathes is laboured, like it's the last one he'll
ever have. He can't get rid of the sting behind his eyes no matter how much he
rubs them, and the choked feeling his throat refuses to go away. He thinks now,
surely he can finally cry the tears he's been saving up since that morning in
the van, but no matter how much he wants to, he can't cry. He thinks now, it
must have sunk in, so that he can remember and see the images in his mind, and
focus on the pain in his arm, the hurt in his chest, but nothing happens and he
can't cry.
If there is something worse than sadness, it is being completely numb to all
emotion.
If it hadn't been for him, it wouldn't be like this. Sehun would have fallen
asleep on Lu Han's shoulder and it wouldn't have mattered that he was asleep
and didn't realize he was halfway to being killed until his leg was destroyed.
He thinks about what Chanyeol said, about the doctors being scared that he
would lose all his muscle function and Jongin feels like puking even though he
hasn't had anything to eat for over half a day. All of his limbs feel
undeserved, like he was given safety even though it should have been him in the
surgery room, not Sehun, never Sehun.
They could be fine now, because Jongin would have been awake, could have
shielded himself as best as possible, and even if he would have been injured
too, it surely wouldn't have been as bad as Sehun, lying, without the ability
to dance.
This is what breaks Jongin's heart the most, the fact that Sehun can't dance.
To Jongin, who knows nothing but dance, who doesn't love and want to dance, but
needs it, needs dancing in his blood, in his heart, in his mind, he can't begin
to fathom what it's like to lose movement. It's different from his waist
hurting or his back cramping, it's different because even if it's painful, at
least Jongin can still move when he's injured. But Sehun, with his bones
broken, couldn't get up even if he tried.
For Jongin, the staff members trying to help him carry anything were a reminder
that Jongin got by with little more than a broken arm and traumatic shock. He
was still able to function normally, could go out and get a late dinner if he
wanted, or cook himself a meal. He could feed himself, and then could take a
shower and change out of his clothes and if he wanted to, he could sleep. As he
lies down on the bed, spreading his limbs across the mattress, he thinks about
choice, being able to make choices, and wills himself to cry without any
success.
When Drogba first confirmed that he was leaving Chelsea, Jongin had complained
to Lu Han that, “He's such a fucking life ruiner, who the fuck does he think he
is, ditching his team with all that personal success, like what about defending
the Champions League title or something, that fucker.” and Lu Han had giggled
quietly to himself at Jongin's rant.
Didier Drogba had not ruined any lives. Didier Drogba leaving was not the sole
reason that Chelsea hadn't made it past the group stage the next year, nor was
he the only cause for Chelsea's third place finish in the premier league. In
fact, even if it were Drogba's fault, he didn't actually ruin Jongin's life.
Jongin was now an expert on life ruining, having destroyed Sehun's into a
crushed femur with eleven screws, bone grafting, and titanium rods.
If anyone is a life ruiner, it's Kim Jongin, and he knows it.
He falls asleep staring at the ceiling sometime around four in the morning,
fully dressed, without brushing his teeth. It's nearly noon when he finally
wakes up to his phone vibrating against his thigh in the pocket of his pants.
He lets it ring, unable to bring himself to care about picking up, and too
sleepy to fish it out anyway. He turns over after it stops vibrating and
considers getting up to make himself breakfast. It's been an entire day since
he's eaten anything and his stomach is protesting.
The refrigerator is completely devoid of food. He rummages through all of the
cabinets to find a box of bottled water and opens a bottle to drink. There's so
much and absolutely nothing to do, but he decides to see what the bathroom is
like before doing anything else. He's interrupted by his phone vibrating again.
Jongin sighs and puts down his water, fumbling for his phone to check who's
trying to contact him.
He has one missed call and an unread text message, both, it turns out, from
Chanyeol. The text reads, 'What are you doing, man?'
Jongin frowns and texts back, 'Rebuilding my world. Don't come near.'
He turns off his phone and throws it onto the bed along with his clothes. He
hasn't had a proper shower since he was first admitted into hospital, and
luckily there's soap in the drawers. Without bothering about his hair, he
washes himself until he feels clean for the first time in weeks. It's a lapse
in foresight on his part when he comes out of the stall and realizes that he
has no towel. He swears and air-dries himself, standing awkwardly in the middle
of the apartment, stark naked.
When only his hair is still dripping wet, he unlocks his phone again and sees
that Chanyeol’s sent him a reply already. He waits until he’s pulled on boxers,
jeans, and a shirt out of his suitcase, and is fully dressed before reading
what it has to say.
'Without us? Without EXO? Without Sehun?'
His hands start to tremble first, and then it's his entire body, and Jongin
feels sad, hurt, angry, all at the same time, and he can't stop shaking as he
presses delete, clearing the entire history of their text conversations. He
repeats the action with all his contacts, everyone he's talked to in the past
two years, over and over again, delete, clear all, yes, clear all, yes, clear
all, yes. He only hesitates when he gets to Sehun's name, but then his thumb
lowers and that's deleted too.
He wishes he had started crying then too, but he doesn't, he sits with his head
against the wall, and tries to breathe. Dancing is completely out of the
question, he can't bring himself to get up and stand, much less move. He
doesn't eat that day, or the day after that, even though someone comes in with
groceries and to tidy up the place a bit. Jongin could be doing something
useful with himself, but he ends up sitting on the bed watching as someone
sweeps the floors for him, lays out shampoo, conditioner, towels, toothpaste, a
toothbrush, stocks his cabinets with plates and cutlery.
He should be embarrassed, but he's far from it. Instead, he's numb, incredibly
numb to everything that happens around him, and he spends each day doing little
more than sleeping. He's not in a jail cell, but he feels like a prisoner.
Sleep, wake up, pretend you have an existence and that your life isn't
meaningless, repeat. It should be a wake up call, but instead, Jongin sits and
he doesn't dance, he can't dance, not when it means almost as much to him as
Sehun does.
When Jongin had first been told that there was something to love other than
dance, he thought it was absurd that people would devote more time to each
other than the dance floor. He voiced this opinion frequently, most often after
a good practice session. But now, he sees and realizes that there are people in
his life much more precious than his own ability to do triple pirouettes.
Mostly, he stares at his phone and wonders whether or not he should do what he
would normally be doing, searching their names online, looking at posts by
fans, checking to make sure that there were good pictures of him posted. But he
can't look, not when SM still hasn't released any information about why EXO so
suddenly halted all of their activities, can't even begin to fathom what kind
of stories they've posted, or crazy theories they've thought up.
What scares him the most isn't that the fans are speculating. It makes sense
that they're trying to reason out a logical explanation for their sudden
departure. The problem is that he can't decide if it would be worse that what
they postulated was right, or if their ideas were completely wrong. He's
terrified that if they found out the truth, they would blame him just as he
blamed himself, and that they'd seek him out, attack him, make him pay. He's
petrified at the idea that they have no idea what's real and what isn't, and
doesn't want to think about what they would do to him if they found out, months
after the fact.
Only one thing scares him more, and that's the reaction of the other members.
If they're just as fuzzy on what happened as Chanyeol was, they're probably not
angry with Jongin, but if they knew, they would probably hate him. He shudders
every time he thinks about what Zitao would say to him, thinks about the look
he would be given, thinks he'd probably be killed. Zitao seeks justice; he has
no patience for people who hurt others, especially for people who hurt his
friends. Jongin had been allowed to stay by himself at this apartment for his
own safety against whatever the fans might do, for security; but secretly,
Jongin thinks he's most protected from the rest of EXO.
Jongin, who thinks that he's trapped because he's staying in a room by himself,
has a clear cut idea of what happened. Jongin does not delude himself into
thinking that the other members aren't stuck in limbo, feeling more helpless
and useless than he does. There were schedules they were supposed to attend,
rehearsals and performances in the works, there were so many plans that were
all suddenly written off. At the very least, they could be preparing for their
next album, but with a date up in the air, and the very existence of EXO in
question, he doesn't think that anyone's in the studios.
Probably the only people doing anything useful at this point are the members
like Yixing, who are composing as usual, who are in the business for the music,
for the stage. In the industry of entertainment, if you're never in front of an
audience, you can never do your job. All of the members have worked hard to get
to where they are, and all of them love what they do, and now, none of them can
do it. They can't get up on stage and sing or dance, they can't be on radio
shows or in side projects, they're stuck without any idea of when or how
they'll get out.
There's no way he can forget this fact. He doesn't deserve to, so he doesn't
let himself. Jongin plays videos of EXO standing a line with their hands out,
and thumbs up. “We are one, we are EXO,” Joonmyeon says, before Jongin pauses
the video, rewinds, and replays. He watches it over, and over again, memorizing
the way all of their faces look, each one pleased in their own way, everyone
satisfied and content, if not happy. He looks at all of them without really
seeing them, too scared to focus on any one face, too nervous about what he'll
have to realize he has destroyed.
Fuck up, he thinks to himself, I'm such a fucking fuck up, I've fucked
everything up for everyone, and he realizes how sorry he is, how genuinely
sorry he is to everyone. To EXO, to their company, who acts like they have no
idea what to do because this isn't the kind of thing that's written into their
contracts, to their managers and staff, to Sehun, to Sehun's parents, and to
some extent he even feels sorry for himself.
He’d met Sehun's parents a few times at big school events, and his mother had
smiled at Jongin and thanked him for being a great friend, and Sehun hadn't
changed his expression at all but he blushed and Jongin noticed. He thinks of
their happy faces and can't imagine what it must be like to see your son lying
in a hospital bed in so much agony.
He feels sorry, but he's not sure he feels sorry enough.
This is probably what despair tastes like, bitter and sour and dry in his
mouth, nowhere to go and nowhere to hide, not really.
It's the thought of Sehun's parents at school that makes Jongin start dancing
again. He stands, in the middle of the room, and slides into a straddle, and
realizes he's lost his splits, and thinks that he can't do anything right,
letting himself slip up even now. He thinks, at least for Sehun's sake, he
should still be moving because his body can, because his body will let him,
because he won't shatter if he stretches a little or rotates a joint.
Eventually, it's the dancing that he occupies his time with. He spends twelve
hours a day, or maybe even thirteen, doing nothing but practice. His phone
plays videos of choreography, and he learns it, internalizes it, goes over
every move beat by beat, repeats it until it's in his muscle memory, replays
the video over and over, watches until his eyes are sore, and he dances.
Everything he learns becomes his own, and even though he's supposed to be
copying someone, imitating other dances, everything ends up with a touch of
Jongin, and he remembers dance for what it was. The only thing he knows how to
throw himself into, mind, body, and soul, when no one else is around him, when
he can't even trust himself.
It's always been dance.
He doesn't expect anyone to communicate with him, but it still hurts when he
thinks about it. He has no right to be disappointed, but he had assumed that
someone would wonder where he was. Supposedly, the other members would have
left the dorms too, if Jongin was gone, maybe to their parents homes. The dorms
probably aren't completely abandoned, but he doesn't think he has a right to
visit, not after that first day. On some days, when he convinces himself that
he should be there, with the other members instead of alone in his self-imposed
exile, he remembers that he doesn't know what he would say to them. At first,
it's because he can’t imagine bringing himself to recount or explain what
happened. And then, a few days after that, it becomes something about him not
being with the rest of them, not supporting or being part of the group at its
time of greatest need.
Strangely, it's this turn of events that makes him believe in God. He's never
really needed to have faith in anything. Not until now, when he needs God three
times a week, when he's in bed and realizes how lonely he is. Jongin, apart
from being alone, has never felt so much loneliness, so alone that it's in his
bones, so lonely, and so so empty.
Other than the occasional check-up call from a manager on the landline, Jongin
hasn't spoken to anyone in weeks. And as much as he seeks solitude and comes
off as cold, trying to project an image of handsome ruggedness without the
weakness of dependence, he does need other people in his life. He craves human
touch with a regularity that thrums in him now, thinks that he would feel
better even if he were sitting beside someone silently for a few minutes. It
could be easily done if he just went outside to a cafe or a park, and sat down
with one of the other residents of the city, or even walked around the street
outside and greeted some of the elderly who did exercises in the morning; human
interaction wasn't so far away from him. But Jongin is a coward and he can't
find the courage in him to go out and see people. He's scared that he'll look
up into the face of a fan and that they'll start screaming at him angrily. He's
scared that someone will find him and catch him, and the police aren’t really
hunting him, he's not a runaway, he's not in real trouble, but it feels like he
should be.
 
It isn't for a few weeks afterward that someone calls his cell phone. He
shouldn't be surprised that it's Lu Han, because Lu Han has always been the
socialite of them all, and Lu Han is, Jongin can admit now, one of the best
friends he has. Lu Han takes care of people in his own way, because he cares
about them so genuinely and so deeply. Lu Han calls, and Jongin doesn't think
he can face him, not if Lu Han is calling to get angry with him, or blame him.
He doesn't think he can deal with confrontation in any way, and he's too scared
to lose what might be his only friend left.
He stares at the phone. Stares and stares as it rings and rings, but he refuses
to pick up.
Lu Han, unlike Chanyeol, leaves him voicemail.
It takes Jongin three tries to gather enough courage to listen to that message.
“Jongin-ah, it's Lu Han hyung. I'm calling now because I just got back in
Seoul. Sehun's surgery went well, and SM flew him back on a private flight with
his family, and the other EXO members. So we're all here now, and Sehun-ah's
going to be in rehab for a while. Jonginnie, why don’t you see him? Jongin,
you’re in love with him aren’t you?”
Whatever Jongin thought was coming, it wasn't that. It wasn't to be so shocked
about the fact that Lu Han knew, he knew what Jongin didn't want to admit to
himself. He didn't expect a gentle voice, or kindness, or a sense that
absolutely nothing was wrong, that everything was going to be okay. He didn't
expect Lu Han to be so at ease about everything, to have not a hint of
accusation in his voice, and it makes Jongin reflect about what's holding him
back. It's precisely because he's in love with Sehun that he can't see Sehun
hurt in anyway.
Love is strong, Jongin thinks, but not stronger than pain, and he remembers
blood, he can see it, the broken windows, the sound of screeching tires, he
remembers pain again and he's panicking, breaking down, the memory of that
crash serving only to haunt him, terrify him, and he screams, lets out a
bloodcurdling shriek, screams, and screams, and screams until he's hoarse,
collapsed into a heap on the ground, and all he can smell is that of burnt
rubber, the tang of iron in his mouth, smoke, gasoline, feels broken glass all
over him again, can hear it, can see it, can taste it, and it's awful, it's
absolutely awful. The feeling of dread builds in the pit of his belly and sits
there, refusing to go away. It makes him sick to his stomach, but he wretches
without anything coming up, and his head starts to pound and throb with pain,
and everything feels like it's gone to shit, like he's found his way to a
living hell.
He doesn't spend any of that day dancing. After hearing the voice message, he
curls up on the bed and lies there, completely exhausted, drained emotionally
and mentally, and when he closes his eyes he can't sleep because he can see the
crash happening again and again. He doesn't want to sleep, knows that if he
does, he'll dream, and it'll be the crash again and again.
He can't relive that experience because it's like he's hurting Sehun again and
again.
There are a lot of things he wants to say to Lu Han. He wants to ask him for
advice, for support, even just talk to him and hear his voice and know that
life goes on. Then, he hears Lu Han's voice asking him, “Jongin, you’re in love
with him aren’t you?” and he knows that it's impossible, not with Sehun in a
rehabilitation centre trying to relearn how to stand, being treated like a
baby, being taught how to walk again because of Jongin. It doesn't stop him
from thinking up questions, however.
In his head, he has conversations with Lu Han. “Is everything going to be
okay?” Jongin asks, and Lu Han tells him, “Yes, certainly, in fact, everything
is already okay.” “What is wrong with me?” he asks, and Lu Han replies,
“Absolutely nothing.” And that, just that, gives Jongin a little bit of
comfort. Even though there are so many moments when he could, and so many
reasons for him to, Jongin doesn't cry. He doesn't know why, and this is the
question that's always on the tip of his tongue, the question that brings him
closest to calling Lu Han each time. Every time, the thing that stops him again
is Sehun's face, crystal clear in his mind, and Jongin's courage breaks, and he
can't do it.
There's a part of him that also wishes that Sehun would call him. He knows that
he's made no effort to contact Sehun, didn't even get a chance to see him when
they were being treated in the same hospital. He knows that, but internally, he
still wishes that Sehun would text him some obscene message about how stupid
the other people around him were, or about how bored he was. It would probably
make Jongin smile for the first time in ages. But no message comes from Sehun
and Jongin can't exactly blame him.
It’s knowing that Jongin has no right to want Sehun to call him that makes him
do it. He’s just holding it in his hand when out of nowhere, he throws his
phone across the room in frustration, only momentarily satisfied by the loud
smacking noise when it hits the other wall, and even from here he can see that
it’s cracked. He feels oddly victorious.
As a friend, he should be responsible at least for finding out where Sehun is
staying, what rehabilitation centre he's being treated in, what their visitor
hours are. It's definitely somewhere in the best friends contract that Jongin
is obligated to at least see Sehun. He wonders if the rest of the EXO members
are with him, if they see him and if they talk about how horrible Jongin is
without him there, horrible for not fulfilling his duties as a member of the
band, as a coworker, but more importantly, as a friend. They're all friends,
really, even if they fight, bicker, or annoy each other. They've bonded over so
many trivial and momentous things over the past years that it's impossible not
to be friends. And friends, friends are supposed to support each other. Not
hole themselves up in isolation. Jongin hasn't seen the light of day except to
visit the hospital to remove his cast and attend subsequent mandatory check up.
Friends, lovers, whatever it is, Jongin should be there.
 
But he isn’t there. Jongin is a quick twenty-minute car ride away from the
dorms, but he’s a million miles away. The only thing that’s right with him is
that he’s alive. When he presses his fingers to his face and his palms to his
throat, he’s throbbing with life. Being alive is what makes things hurt. If
only the pain wasn’t so intense and constant. But he’s always wondering if
Sehun’s all right, always wants to apologize to someone, to tell someone that
he’s okay. He thinks that if he can say he’s fine to someone else, that he can
convince himself that he’s fine too.
In the end, being alive, without eating, and constantly moving, is what drives
Jongin over the brink, and his body caves to exhaustion. He falls asleep and
stays that way for an entire day.
Jongin wakes up with sweaty palms and an uncomfortable stickiness covers his
body. He can barely breathe. He curls and uncurls his fists slowly. He wiggles
his toes. He furls his eyebrows. He cracks his neck. He’s in bed. There’s the
blanket. There’s the pillow beneath his head. Yes, he was sleeping. He turns
his head and hopes that when he opens his eyes, it’s Sehun that he sees. It’s
Sehun that he dreams of. In that brief moment right before he falls asleep, he
thinks yes, I love him.
 
“How's Jongin holding up?” Zitao asks quietly.
At quarter to midnight, there's only two people other than the receptionist in
the lobby of the Seoul Rehabilitation Hospital. They sit quietly on the chintz
armchairs, elbows resting against each other on the armrests, and looking out
of the floor-length windows to the darkened streets outside. Zitao sips instant
coffee made from a vending machine out of a styrofoam cup and looks at Lu Han
expectantly.
Lu Han lowers his head to stare into his cup of tea, waiting for it to cool and
trying to think of a way to answer Zitao's question.
“Well, he stepped out of the apartment for the first time yesterday,” Lu Han
decides finally, keeping his voice lowered.
“That's good news, isn't it?”
“He walked out into the sunlight and looked like he was terrified of it. And
then he just wandered around a bit lost, watched people randomly, and ended up
finding a payphone.”
“Doesn't he have his own phone? How's management keeping in touch with him?”
“I have no idea. But anyway, he definitely made a call. It was short, and I
didn't hear him say anything,” Lu Han says and pauses to take a breath.
Zitao interrupts him, “Didn't? Or Couldn't?”
“I don't think his lips were moving at all.”
“That's fucking weird.”
“I know. Anyway, I followed him for a while, and all he did was walk around and
around and around, he wasn’t even looking at anyone or anything. It was like he
was suddenly in awe and wonder about trees, the clouds, the sun, the grass,
pretty much everything.”
“Hang on, you followed him? Have you been following him daily or something?”
“Um, well, actually, I've just been visiting once a week. So I guess I can't
say for sure whether it was his first time out or not. I guess I was just
lucky. I was about to leave when he came down the steps.”
“And he didn't see you?”
“I think even if he did, he wouldn't have really seen me, if you know what I
mean,” he says, and hesitates. “I think, I knew he was out of it, since he left
and all. But I don't know why he left, and I didn't think it would be this bad.
I've never seen Jongin look so terrible. His skin's a mess, his eyes are dead,
his cheeks sunken, and even the way he carried himself was kind of sad. Like he
was hiding his face from fans even though no one was there. He must have lost
fifteen or twenty pounds since the time we last saw him. And keep in mind, I
saw him in the hospital when he was just on IV drips.”
Zitao swears loudly and the receptionist shushes him.
“Sorry,” he says, before turning back to Lu Han. “That would fit with the
theory that he hasn't left the house. But you said last time that there was
someone bringing him food.”
“Just because there's food in the house doesn't mean he's eating it,” Lu Han
reminds him, and blows on his tea to cool it some more, before finally taking a
sip. He grimaces at how awful it is, but takes another mouthful and swallows
anyway.
Zitao laughs at him. “Want to trade drinks?”
“Fuck no, that shit is vile and shouldn't be called coffee.”
“Oh, like the tea is any better.”
“Point. But all my parents gave me when I visited was crappy teabag tea in a
paper cup. Drinking this is almost like being back in their condo, sitting on
their sofa and feeling uncomfortably unfamiliar with the people who raised me.”
Zitao snorts. "You were probably just making it more awkward, smiling at them
as if they weren't the ones who practically threw you out of the house."
“People are worth more than their views, Huang Zitao. Just because my mother
doesn't come shopping with me like yours does doesn't make me like her any
less.”
Lu Han looks at Zitao who stares back at him and they fall silent. The darkness
sits on them like a blanket, encouraging sleepiness. It's so quiet that they
can hear their own breathing, and the ticking of the clock above the reception
desk. The coffee has done nothing for Zitao except to make his insides feel
warm. His eyes close and he’s on the verge of dozing off when Lu Han speaks
again.
“What if,” Lu Han proposes, and Zitao's eyes fly open and wide awake, “What if
we, I dunno, gave them a push?”
Zitao, who is suddenly very conscious and aware, frowns. “I don't know if I
like what you're thinking of.”
“With Jongin, no one knows what the hell he's thinking. I have an inkling that
he's blaming himself, because god knows why, but he's an idiot like that. But
if we could, maybe, like, remind him that Sehun's alive and kicking and alright
even if not terribly happy...”
“If he's blaming himself for being an asshole by not being beside his best
friend at this point in time, he probably deserves to wallow in misery.”
“Zitao,” Lu Han says sharply.
“Think about it. We were all worried. We all still are. But we came together
right, held each other's hands, all that cheesy stuff and got through it. Sehun
woke up in the morning and he saw at least one of us there, and he smiled.”
“He smiled, but his smile got more and more strained as the days went on. You
noticed it too, that he's missing Jongin, wants to know where he is, why he's
not here, but he's too afraid to ask any of us.”
“I would tell him that he was alive, if he had asked,” Zitao sniffs.
“Wow, what an enormous help you are. But the thing is, none of us know why he
isn't here either.”
“Who are you kidding, of course we know. We all know that Jongin's madly in
love with Sehun, can't keep his eyes off him, but he's scared of his feelings
because he's lived his entire life only attracted to dance. He has no idea how
to deal with people, and he's terrified of the fact that he needs a person more
than he needs dancing. I say if he can't even handle that revelation, he
doesn't deserve to be in Sehun-ah's space. He'll probably just end up hurting
him in the process of trying to figure himself out.”
Lu Han frowns. “I think he deserves a chance, at the very least.”
“Okay, say we gave him that chance. It doesn't matter if he handles himself
maturely or not because Sehun's hurt and he's a lost puppy right now and he
would probably do something stupid in front of Jongin, like try to run towards
him, and then we'd be stuck with years more of EXO hiatus because he was too
careless.”
“I think it's also pretty reckless just to let this sit and... fester. Jongin's
wasting himself away. He's going back to that aloof human being who would
rather melt in the arms of a dance studio barre than another human being. We
can't not do anything,” Lu Han says and turns to look at Zitao, who sniffles.
He squints at him, under the dim lighting, and realizes that Zitao is trying
not to cry.
“He hurt Sehun-ah. Sehun's been miserable since day one because everyone and
their mom is here to help him through physical therapy except for the person
who mattered to him the most. Fuck Jongin for that. Fuck him and being selfish
and keeping to himself when all of us were in pain. If he comes back to visit
Sehun, he better be groveling.”
Lu Han puts out a hand to try to calm him down, but Zitao ignores him and
continues.
“Oh Sehun is horrible with his feelings. He pretends not to give a fuck about
anything because it's his defence mechanism. It's easier to have a carefree
attitude than it is being emotionally invested in everything and then getting
hurt half the time in the process. But it doesn't matter because Sehun does
give a fuck, gives probably a couple dozen fucks in fact, when it comes to Kim
Jongin, who used to give all the fucks in the world but is now acting like
Sehun doesn't mean a fucking thing!”
Suddenly, he stops and backs down when Lu Han steels him with a glare.
“Zitao, you weren't the one with him and trying to keep him entertained for the
eight weeks when he was non-weight bearing. You know, and I know, and Sehun
knows, and everyone in the world except Jongin knows that Sehun loves him. And
before we pass judgment on either of them, Sehun also wants him to be here. And
Jongin needs to see that, now more than ever. And what Sehun needs isn't us
mollycoddling him, or teasing him, or making him laugh, or watching movies with
him, or helping him as he tries to regain his sense of balance, or supporting
him when he relearns how to walk. What Sehun needs is to be loved. Not just by
us, but by Jongin. Loved so much that he realizes how strong he is, that he
doesn't need anyone or any form of assistance,” he says calmly. “Only Jongin
can show him that now.”
 
“Hello? ...Hello? Is anybody there? Can whoever this is stop calling us?
I’m...going to hang up...Hello? Hello?” Hearing his mother’s voice out of the
receiver affects him more than he thinks it will, every time Jongin calls.
He stands in the phone booth on the corner of the street where the apartment
is, the third time in a month and a half. The phone in his hand stays pressed
to his ear, but he doesn't speak up. He doesn't know if he can explain to his
mother why he doesn't want her to know where he is, or why he doesn't want
anyone to find him. But at the same time, he wants to know that she's okay and
hearing her voice makes him glad that she sounds the same as ever. It makes him
a little sad that his mom has no idea that her son was in a car accident, and
he feels guilty for not telling her. Yet, the people around him have moved on,
even if he isn't there, and he's grateful for that.
When the line clicks and the beeping that signals a finished call ensues, he
grips the ledge under the payphone tightly with one hand, and hangs up. He
squeezes his eyes closed before bringing his other hand down to rest on the
ledge too, and feels something under his fingertips that's not cool metal.
Opening his eyes, he squats down to look at the small white envelope and pulls
it out to take a closer look. He stands up and reads it, his eyes widening when
he reads 'Jongin' on the front. He frowns slightly because the handwriting
looks familiar, and he wonders to himself if it's a fan. He hadn't noticed any
of them. He thinks that they would probably use the name 'Kai' if anything, and
the envelope makes him curious. Taking the risk, he slides a finger under the
flap and pulls out the contents, one small polaroid photograph.
The shot is of the inside of a cafe that he used to go to with some of the
other members. It's a pretty run down place, but the coffee is good, it's open
at all hours of night, and no one knows them there as members of a boy band.
The baristas also don't have any patience for fans and help them stay there
without being found. He doesn't think any fans should have a picture of the
place, or at least, not from within, and it makes him wonder who it is who knew
where he was, knew that this place was somewhere he used to frequent and would
leave him a message like this. He turns it over but there’s no message on the
back, and nothing written on the bottom of the front side either.
He slides the photo back into its envelope and places it in his back pocket. It
stays there, forgotten, as he walks up the street to the park where he sits for
a long time, face hidden by his winter jacket as he listens to the city around
him, feeling the cold fresh air in his lungs and the sun shining down to warm
him. He thinks that by returning to the outside world, he's starting to regain
the idea of what it means to feel alive.
 
The picture remains in the pocket of Jongin's jeans, untouched, until he
returns home and readies himself for bed. He takes the envelope out and places
it under his pillow before going to sleep and dreams about having coffee with
Lu Han, who's dressed up like the Queen of England, complete with a tiara,
gloves, and red lipstick.
“Tea time should be for tea,” Queen Lu Han tells him, before daintily picking
up the cup and saucer in front of him and taking an equally dainty sip. He sets
it back down without a clack and looks unimpressed at the chip in the butterfly
print teacup.
“Uh, sorry?” Jongin says, before quickly picking up his cup of Americano and
taking a gulp, scalding his tongue in the process. He chokes a little and
coughs twice.
“Your Highness,” Queen Lu Han corrects him, politely offering him a tissue,
which Jongin accepts gladly. “You should be addressing me as 'Your Highness.'”
“Oh, um, I'm sorry. Your Highness,” Jongin says and looks over to make sure he
hadn't accidentally coughed up on the queen’s coral dress.
“That's quite alright,” he says mildly and takes to calmly observing Jongin.
“Sandwich?”
“Er, alright, yes, please, Your Highness,” Jongin says, struggling to be
polite. He takes a bite-sized cucumber sandwich from the plate in front of him
and tries to eat it with as little fanfare as possible.
Queen Lu Han stops looking at him, and peers around at their surroundings. He
wrinkles his nose periodically, but other than that, there’s no hint of disdain
on his face. Either that, or it's just very well controlled. It's only then
that Jongin realizes that they're in the cafe, the one that EXO frequents, the
one in the photo he had received.
“The decor here is quite awful, isn't it?” Queen Lu Han asks with no real note
of disgust.
Jongin rolls his eyes, and immediately regrets it. Are you supposed to roll
your eyes when you're in front of royalty? Probably not. “Yeah,” he mutters
after swallowing the last of his sandwich quickly, “Tell me about it.”
“Quite.”
“But I mean, at least it's clean right? Anyway, I like this cafe,” he says
defensively.
Queen Lu Han looks at him carefully and purses his lips. “My apologies then, I
didn't mean to be...rude.” He peers at Jongin and Jongin feels distinctly like
he's being judged, and that the queen is being sarcastic with him. “After all,
this is your tea party," he says, before picking up a sandwich for himself and
nibbling on it in a way that Jongin can only describe as daintily.
When he wakes up he has an inexplicable craving for coffee.
 
 
He finds himself ducking into the cafe without actually being prepared for any
circumstances. For one, he's lucky that the fans have yet to chance upon the
place, since the store isn't altogether far away from the dorms. For another,
it's possible that he could run into someone, but he seats himself quickly and
tries to avoid contact with anyone already seated.
One of the waiters comes for his order, and he indulges his dream by asking for
an Americano and a sandwich, smiling wryly to himself.
He waits, keeping his head down, and rubs his hands together to warm them.
After a while, he starts scrolling through his phone for new dances to learn,
weighing the pros and cons of Mobbin' and Titanium against each other. He's
still pondering whether he can find better choreography for one or the other
when the waiter returns.
“It's been a long time since any of the staff have seen you here,” he says,
setting down his plate.
Jongin tilts his head, and doesn't reply.
The coffee is set before him in a chipped china cup with a tiny butterfly
pattern on it. He takes a sip of coffee and sets it back down, sitting and
thinking about the last time he was here.
“I want something stronger,” Sehun said, mouth turned down, but eyes twinkling.
Jongin looked at the cup of coffee in his hand, almost empty. “Alright, let me
finish this and then we'll go somewhere else.”
They left after paying, and found themselves getting drunk off of cheap soju at
a street vendor that didn't card sometime around four in the morning. Sehun was
a giggly drunk, and Jongin a clingy one.
“Tomorrow morning's going to be just terrible,” Sehun said, and laughed. Jongin
couldn't help but laugh with him, before wrapping an arm around Sehun's waist.
“No one's going to notice anything wrong with you. Your face when you have a
hangover looks just like your normal face,” Jongin teased, before burying his
face into Sehun's collarbone and inhaling Sehun's scent.
“Well, I guess it'll just be everyone asking you what's wrong when you can't
dance because your head hurts too much, and I'll be in some corner smirking
away.”
“Ugh, you're the worst.”
“And the best part is that you won't actually be able to say what without
getting into more trouble, so no one will bring you a glass of water, and you
won't be allowed to wear shades inside, and you'll wish you could take another
Advil once the music is blasting.”
“I hate you,” Jongin slurred, without any feeling.
“Oh I know,” Sehun said before he erupted into uncontrollable giggles. It took
him a good minute and a half before he could speak again. “I love you too.”
Jongin's thoughts are sent sharply back to the present moment and, he finally
turns to what will probably end up being his only meal for the day. He lifts
the sandwich off the plate, crumbs falling off, and sees the envelope. It's
almost expected. He takes a bite first, and chews slowly as he slides the
envelope off the plate and brushes bread crumbs off of it.
He swallows and reads his name written in the same familiar handwriting as was
on the envelope he picked up in the phone booth. Brushing off his hands, he
lifts up the flap and finds another polaroid. This time, it's of the SM
building, and Jongin and Sehun are in the foreground, looking at each other and
laughing. They're both sweaty and tired as if after a practice. It looks like
something from their trainee days, and Jongin thinks he's never seen the
picture before, or at least, doesn't remember it being snapped with his
knowledge.
Puzzled, his eyes slide down to the bottom of the photograph, where the address
of the SM building is written. Why would anyone think that he needed to be
reminded of the location? But then, he finishes reading, and realizes that the
last line is a room number, that someone's trying to get him into a specific
studio in the building.
It has to be someone from the company then, who's been sending him all this
strange stuff. The trouble is, he still doesn't know who it is. The only thing
he knows is that if it's from the company, and if the location is the company,
he probably doesn't have to be worried about being mauled by fangirls.
But he's not ready. He's not ready to go back and face people he hasn't seen in
...months. It's months now, even though for a while he was able to count the
weeks. He's scared what will happen if he sees the dance instructors, the vocal
coaches. He's more scared of being in the practice rooms and realizing how much
he misses being with the other members, practicing, recording, and performing.
He doesn't think he's ready to confront the fact that he needs EXO, loves EXO,
and had abandoned EXO. Maybe tomorrow, he thinks as he sets down some cash on
the table, before bundling himself up and heading back out into the cold.
 
Tomorrow comes and goes, but Jongin does not return to the SM building. No one
from management has called him since his last and final visit to the hospital,
and he assumes that means that he isn't needed at the building, which means
that Sehun is still too injured to participate in any activities, and also
means that EXO is still stuck in their weird not-a-band limbo. He lies in bed,
thinking about whether or not he could walk over without being spotted and
cornered, and runs through possible situations in his mind, all of which seem
stupid after the fact. There's not a great deal of space in the apartment, but
it's sufficed for him up until this point, and he doesn't see why any of that
would change suddenly. But then, his eyes flicker to the two polaroids which
lie on the bed, his and Sehun's tiny blurry faces smiling, and his chest
contracts a little, his eyes soften, and his will weakens.
He doesn't sleep with the pictures under his pillow the second night, leaves
them on the kitchen counter so Empress Lu Han can't visit his dreams again and
give him strange ideas.
The person who visits his dreams that night is Sehun, who looks at him with his
lips sealed in a thin line.
“Come,” Sehun says softly, and beckons at him with his hand. He's a Butterfly
Prince, and looks so perfectly in tune with his surroundings.
Jongin follows, and Sehun leads him through a field of zinnias. Sehun reaches
out to hold his hand, and Jongin takes it but keeps flinching because
butterflies surround and land on Sehun wherever he walks, and Jongin's scared
he's accidentally going to crush one and maim or kill it. One of them flies
past his ear and sits in Sehun's hair, a perfect match in colour. It makes him
think of the swallowtail that had landed on Sehun's shoulder the day of the car
crash and he wakes up suddenly in a panic. The apartment is dark, and he rolls
over to try to go back to sleep, willing himself to think of anything but that
day this time.
The next day comes and goes. Jongin makes it as far as the door before he stops
himself. He hesitates as he reaches for his jacket, but caves and hangs it back
up before he can unlock the room and leave.
The day after that comes and goes.
It's not until the fifth day after the cafe that he finally slips on his
jacket, lifts the hood over his face, and shoves his hands into his pockets
without reaching for the photo on the countertop. He doesn't need it to know
what room his destination is.
Jongin walks briskly in the thin layer of snow outside, taking back alleys and
sideroads until he reaches the side entrance into the SM building. He dodges
fans whenever he sees them until he manages to get inside, unzipping his parka
and relishing in the warmth of the well-heated hallways. For what it was worth,
SM didn't skimp on the essentials much, not when it came to the company itself,
with its dozens and dozens of staff and workers.
Where he was swift in his footsteps outside, he drags his feet up the stairs,
careful to avoid looking anyone in the face, but finds that no one is in his
way. Which is strange, because usually there's more activity, more costume and
make-up designers rushing about in a flurry, or managers trying to find people.
He doesn't question it as he makes his way down the hall, there are quiet days
in the SM building too, he knows this, and considers the fact that without the
twelve members of EXO there to cause trouble all the time, it's probably a lot
calmer on a regular basis.
He arrives, and double-checks that the room number is right, just in case,
before opening the door.
 
The lights are off when he steps inside. This is not altogether strange. What
is strange is that when he turns the lights on, there are at least a dozen
polaroids all taped up to the mirrors that run along the side of the studio.
Jongin closes the door behind him and tentatively steps up towards them.
Each picture is of Jongin with Sehun. Some of them are pictures he's never seen
before. Some of them shouldn't really be polaroids, but they're photos of
photos. Each one has his name, written neatly, along with the date. He walks
along the length of the room, looking at each of them carefully, peeling them
off the mirrors and holding it up close to his face.
There's a photograph from Jongin's high school graduation, a picture of a
picture someone else had taken when Jongin had tucked his head into the crook
of Sehun's neck, satisfied and happy as he holds too many flowers. He hadn't
realized how happy he looked in the picture, but now that he thinks about it,
he remembers the relief, both at graduating high school and having some
semblance of a future. Sehun's presence had only added to that feeling of
contentment, being able to graduate with your best friend at your side even if
he wasn't in the same class as you was really comforting.
Jongin touches the picture, traces a finger along the line of his lips, lips
not quite curved into a smile, but eyes so soft and gentle that it's obvious
he's smiling inside. He wonders if he'll ever regain that feeling of
satisfaction again.
There are other pictures of them, pictures they had taken together with their
phones, faces reflecting in the mirror, eyes trained on the picture instead of
looking into the camera. They look young here, and have a healthy glow about
them, devoid of any of the drained idol look that so commonly featured in their
photographs now. In the picture, his arm is around Sehun's neck, and he thinks
they might look happy.
Further down is a polaroid of them together at the W photo shoot, their first
photo shoot as idols. He remembers that they had tried to all selca together,
with Taemin hyung and Lu Han hyung, but he doesn't remember taking this
picture. Jongin looks like he's about to hit Sehun for something he's said, and
Sehun's eyes are crinkled. He's certain now that they must have been teasing
each other about looking awkward in the photos that the cameraman had taken.
It wasn't that long ago, not really, but it feels like another lifetime.
He’s overwhelmed by their camaraderie as he pulls down each picture. He looks
at them smiling with each other, arms wrapped around each other's waists,
shoulders, or necks and realizes he doesn't remember when Sehun had become so
important in his life. He was always there, at every critical moment in time.
The two of them had been together so long that Jongin wasn't quite sure what to
do with himself without Sehun. And when he looks, when he really sees them, he
realizes that when they were together it was always more than just being best
friends, it was always knowing that they had each other's backs, being so
faithful and loyal and trusting. It was love. It had always been love. From the
first time they had danced together, way before they were naked in the showers
together. And Jongin just hadn't been able to see that, not until the picture
evidence was right in front of his eyes.
Finally, he reaches the last photograph. It's not chronologically the last
photograph, but the last on the wall, and when he reaches up to grab it, he
notices something strange. The photograph doesn't have Sehun in it, just
features a sleepy Jongin grinning.
Kim Jongin
15 January 2012
That had been the day after his nineteenth birthday. He doesn't remember
anything strange about that day, and the numbers don't set off any bells in his
head. But then he looks closer at the way he's smiling in the photo, ponders.
Jongin thinks that it was the day after he had fucked Sehun for the first time.
It must have been, he remembers now that Lu Han hyung had smirked at him the
morning after and briefly wonders how it is that Lu Han manages to know
everything.
There were other people in the dorm but Sehun had looked positively tantalizing
from the moment Jongin entered the room and everyone started singing Happy
Birthday. He rushed impatiently through the cake and presents and when they
finally, finally, had time alone in Jongin's room, doors locked and Jongin's
bed waiting, Jongin was far more concerned about the amount of clothing Sehun
was wearing, than about the other members hearing them. He made quick work of
both of their clothes, tossing everything aside into a heap. He brought his
hand to the back of Sehun’s neck and he pulled him down forcefully for a
bruising kiss.
Their teeth clacked against each other and Jongin had to adjust his head for a
better angle. He sucked at Sehun’s tongue gently, and groaned loudly when Sehun
swiped his tongue across his bottom lip. Sehun took charge and plunged his
tongue into Jongin’s mouth, explored it and pressed their tongues against each
other before they broke apart for air. Sehun arched against Jongin's thigh
then, and Jongin's head spun.
He felt the pressure of Sehun's cock against him, and Jongin wrapped his hand
around both of them and tried to get them off. Sehun buried his face into
Jongin’s neck and cried out before biting down on Jongin’s shoulder without any
force. Jongin hissed loudly anyway, and attacked Sehun’s ear in retaliation,
nibbling at the lobe and sucking at Sehun’s neck.
Sehun whimpered from the sensation, and shifted his weight so his hand could
join Jongin’s. And then, without any warning, Sehun pulled apart and sat up. He
pierced Jongin with his gaze, and Jongin looked at him, confused and unsure
what was wrong.
“Teach me,” Sehun begged.
Jongin wasn't ready for that. After all the sloppy blowjobs and quick rutting
whenever they could steal a moment of privacy, he wasn't sure if either of them
were ready. Terrified, he brought his hands up to Sehun's face, and kissed him
slowly, deliberately, gently.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
Even with Sehun's fervent nodding, he was tentative.
Sehun reached over to slick his fingers as best he could and Jongin pulled
away, watching as Sehun slowly pressed one finger inside, tongue between his
teeth and brow furrowed as he fingered himself. Jongin’s eyes were glued to the
finger slipping in and out, and he felt his cock twitch just at the sight.
When Sehun pushed in a second finger, it was Jongin who moaned. Moaned as Sehun
scissored his fingers and bit down on his lower lip, squeezed his eyes tightly
together as he added in a third finger. The fingers thrusted in and out of him,
until he beckoned to Jongin.
Jongin slicked his cock and unwrapped a condom.
“You have those? See, you’ve been wanting it too,” Sehun pointed out as Jongin
positioned himself against Sehun's entrance. Jongin said nothing, felt Sehun
shiver in his arms. He put in very little pressure, waited for Sehun to slide
himself down on him slowly and carefully. When he was all the way in, Sehun let
out a shaky breath.
“Okay?” he asked, and Sehun nodded slowly.
He lifted his hips back up and lowered himself back down again, controlled,
methodical.
“Still okay?” Jongin asked, and this time Sehun's nod was much more eager.
Jongin thought that he was taking this remarkably well. The anticipation in his
body was thrumming, Sehun was so tight around him and it took every ounce of
his self control not to start moving sharply into Sehun.
“I’ll let you go at your own pace,” he said gently and had pulled out slowly,
watching Sehun's face. When Sehun winced a little, he pulled him down towards
him for a soft kiss.
Sehun raised his head and nodded before he lifted his hips up in the air, and
his hand fumbled to find Jongin’s dick. He positioned it against himself and
lowered himself down. This time he didn't grimace when the head of Jongin’s
cock penetrated him, but he knew he was holding back tears in his eyes. Jongin
noticed. Jongin noticed and wrapped fingers around Sehun’s dick, tried to
distract him from the pain and Sehun forced himself to grit the pain until he
could feel that he was filled with Jongin to the hilt. Jongin let him sit there
for a while, while Sehun accustomed himself to the feeling. It was in that
moment that he thought about how odd it was that their sex wasn't frantic or
rushed like it usually was.
He looked up at Sehun's face, making the fact that it hurt. There were a
million thoughts racing through his mind, and yet another million racing
through Sehun's and between the two of them, Jongin realized he was the one who
was supposed to comfort the other. He didn't let Sehun think too much for any
longer, and put both hands on Sehun’s waist, Jongin angled his hips and bucked.
Jongin was deeper into Sehun than he thought was possible. It still didn't seem
like Sehun thought that it was pleasurable. But the mechanics finally worked
out and then Sehun had begun to ride Jongin slowly, lifting himself up and
lowering himself down over and over. The controlled pace drove Jongin up the
wall, and he tried to circle his hips, tried to adjust and find Sehun's
prostate, entering him in all positions, awkwardly fumbling and trying to find
his way.
So focused on trying to make Sehun feel good, Jongin had stopped caring about
the weird pressure around his own cock, and kept palming Sehun's dick to keep
him hard. It took a lot in him not to just simply lift Sehun up, turn him over,
and fuck him into the mattress as hard and fast as he possibly could.
It took them a few moments until Jongin finally found the right position,
twitching against Sehun's prostate and sending a jolt of pleasure through him.
Sehun cried out so sharply, and almost collapsed onto Jongin, before giving a
half moan half scream. Jongin smirked then, knew he had finally got it, and
kept his hips in that position. He thrusted upwards again and again.
Sehun panted, “Jongin, more, please,” and Jongin was happy to oblige.
He thrusted harder, faster, and groaned when Sehun had slammed back onto
Jongin's dick to meet him halfway. And Sehun gave the most guttural moans
whenever Jongin had met the right spot, finally understanding what sex was all
about.
Jongin pulled back a little, after that, felt himself driving too close to the
edge too quickly, couldn't handle fucking Sehun like that, and Sehun had
noticed, brought his own hand to slide against his dick. They moved together,
skin pressing against each other, Jongin so far gone that he can't hold back,
and he rushed their pace faster, repeatedly thrusting against Sehun's prostate,
and Jongin had come first, arched his back and growled. He rode out his orgasm,
jerked off Sehun until he too was coming with a groan.
They had curled into each other after that, Sehun's cheek pressed against
Jongin's chest, both of them half asleep before the thought of cleaning
themselves up could even be suggested, both of them spent and completely
exhausted.
The memory gives Jongin a strange nervous energy, which isn't sexual so much as
it's uncontrollable. He thinks he could probably dance it off, and when he
turns on the music, he's unsurprised that it's one of their teaser songs that
comes out. Of course it would be, if someone had this all planned out right
from the beginning.
He dances the one song, the only track set to play apparently, since the sound
system automatically shuts off after it’s over. Jongin’s exhausted and
collapses onto his back against the laminated wood floor of the studio. He
looks up at the ceiling and feels his muscles still alive with energy. He can
still smell the scent of Sehun's hair, feel Sehun's skin under his fingers,
tastes his lips against his tongue.
His left arm is bent to cradle his head. He holds his right arm up and lifts
his thumb. “EXO,” he breathes, and it courses through his veins: he is as much
a part of EXO as EXO is a part of him.
For the first time in months, he feels a need to go back to the dorms surge
through him, a sense that he should finally return back home.
 
In all his years living in the dormitories, Jongin has never found this
particular doorway menacing. And yet, he's terrified of unlocking the door to
see what he might find inside. His hand trembles and he takes a shaky step
inside and finds the apartment empty.
“Hello?” He calls out tentatively, and receives no response. In a stronger
voice he asks, “Everyone? Is anyone home?”
It's an eerie feeling to find the dorms so quiet. Usually there are at least
several other members doing something or another, and there's always some noise
involved. Where are they all? A group dinner? A party? Was this planned?
Not running into anyone in the company building, and now this, an empty dorm.
Jongin's sure that someone is doing something behind the scenes.
He gets the distinct feeling that he's a mouse running in a maze and there is a
scientist with a clipboard hovering over him. They watch him hit all the
planned hurdles, laugh at him, and jot down any observations. They're peering
at him with goggles on, and he's playing right into all their traps. He doesn't
like feeling like an experiment.
Instead of going into his own room, he opens the door to the room Sehun had
shared with Lu Han and Kyungsoo and sits on Sehun's bed. He leans back, rolls
over, and inhales what he imagines to be Sehun's scent from freshly laundered
sheets that Sehun hadn't slept in.
He fists the sheets with both hands and releases, clenching and unclenching,
breathing in and out. Stop running away, he thinks to himself. He had spent so
long running away from his own feelings that running away from confrontation
with Sehun or any of the other members had become his way of avoiding self-
reflection. It wasn't just running away from his responsibilities; Kim Jongin
was running as fast as possible far away from Kim Jongin.
Whatever turned him into this cowering man, he has to change. He has to
reconcile his thoughts and feelings, and become a full person instead of just a
shell. Gritting his teeth, he tries to figure out what he's so scared of. But
it's so obvious when he actually asks himself the question. He's scared that
Sehun hates him, scared that all of EXO hate him, scared because he's
completely in love with Sehun. At the end of the day, what he wants is for
Sehun to be okay, even if happy is asking too much, just okay would be enough.
And if Sehun hadn't wanted to see Jongin, didn't want to talk to him, much less
be friends or lovers, Jongin didn't know if he could survive. It was easier to
practice avoidance just in case it came to the worst case scenario, if his
worst fears became not just a nightmare but a reality.
He's losing it.
It's also the principle of the matter, losing out to himself, to fate, or
whatever it was that led him here, conceding defeat just wasn't something he
was willing to do. Even if it was unhealthy, he wasn't willing to sacrifice the
bubble he had built around himself as a coping mechanism. Building a bubble
within that bubble was his way of failsafe, just in case the outside bubble
burst.
But losing is a part of life. You can't really live without feeling failure,
rejection, and unhappiness. It's the worst moments that make happiness so
sweet, and so mistakes are just as important as success, it makes things
valuable, and you hold what you treasure most even closer to your heart. You
learn what it's like to value things and find them precious and it's in losing
something that you realize just how important that thing is to you.
Jongin covers his eyes with his hands, looks up into the tiny darkened world
he's created for himself, and realizes he needs more. Even if everything is
fleeting, like a butterfly, which lands for the slightest moment, before it’s
scared off, that moment when the butterfly is there is enough, it's all you
need to live for. He separates his fingers and peers through the cracks and he
doesn't know what the future has in store for him, but it's infinitely more
vast and filled with so much more possibility than the four walls he's erected
around himself.
For years, Jongin danced to feel alive. Sehun made Jongin want to live so he
could dance.
“Sehun,” is the last word that comes out of his lips before he falls asleep.
In his dreams, he's in the recreation room of that hotel in Beijing again, the
last place they had stayed altogether, scattered throughout the floor in pairs,
but all in one building, all in one place.
There are earbuds in his ears, but for some reason it doesn't seem like there's
any music playing, there's only silence all around him, and the silence is
somehow deafening. He dances anyway, turns around, and suddenly sees Lu Han,
who joins him in his dancing.
Suddenly, Lu Han stops and points at him, and bursts into laughter. The older
boy struggles to say something through his laughing and Jongin thinks he's
being called a kitty cat. His eyes widen and he stops dancing. He frowns at the
still laughing Lu Han, shakes his head and his earbuds pop out.
Jongin wakes up and the light in the room is on, he can sense that even though
there’s a hand covering his face. He doesn’t remember there being a light on
when he had gone to sleep.
He opens his eyes and removes his hands from his face.
Lu Han is peering over him, he's not calling Jongin a cat, but he's smiling at
Jongin just like one.
Jongin bolts up and definitely pulls something in his speed and vigour.
“Hyung!” It comes off as a lot of things, as surprise, as fear, as happiness,
as relief. He wants to ask him where everyone is, he wants to apologize, there
are a million things on the tip of his tongue.
Lu Han doesn't say anything to him at first, but points his camera at Jongin's
face and holds his finger over the shutter button.
“Smile for the camera!”
There's a flash and in his eyes and Jongin is momentarily blinded. He rubs his
eyes and opens them again to see Lu Han holding onto a polaroid picture, a
black pen in his hand and writing Jongin's name and the date.
“I-It was hyung, it was you all along.”
He should have known. It was so obvious, the polaroids, the neat Hangul, no
wonder he thought the handwriting for his name was so familiar, it hadn’t been
the first time that Jongin had seen Lu Han write his name. And no one else
would have made up such an involved ploy, no one but Lu Han hyung, and he
should have known, he was so stupid. Jongin can’t believe it took him so long
to figure it out, can’t believe he didn’t realize it earlier, didn’t realize
until the answer was practically in his lap.
“Hm, yes, I am your Lu Han hyung, and I always have been,” he says, capping his
pen and handing the picture to Jongin.
Jongin takes it and stares at his own face. It's blurry, not because it isn't
dry, but because it's out of focus, from Lu Han taking the picture too close to
his face. You can just see the outline of Jongin's visage, his nose, lines
where his eyes are sleepily lidded.
“You were the one who was sending me those creepy envelopes with polaroids in
them...You were the one who took all the pictures,” Jongin accuses.
“And sent you on a merry little chase back into Sehun's bed, yes, that was me.
I also managed to clear everyone out of your way, including fans by the way,
when you finally went back to the SM building, and then I even hustled everyone
in EXO out into various apartments and made them sleep on floors and packed
together like sardines so that you could come to this home and not feel
terrified that people wanted to talk to you, and wanted you to talk. All this
just to allow you to do all the required reflecting, you know,” Lu Han says,
snatching back the polaroid from his hand. “I think it's appropriate that I
inform you we very nearly didn't make it out in the time and almost ran into
you because Wu Fan was being a fucker and taking hours in the bathroom. I
nearly killed someone because I was so stressed out that everything wasn’t
going to work out according to my plan just because Wu Fan didn’t wait the full
fifteen minutes for his facial mask.”
“That's some messed up shit, hyung, like what if something happened between the
time the first envelope was sent and now and I never got here?”
“I did consider sending you on one of those cliché introspective road trips,
like the ones they have in the movies, where the protagonist goes off and does
all that soul searching and the miraculously finds themselves and then comes
back ten times the person that they used to be...But I thought it would take
too long, there were more uncontrolled variables, and you probably wouldn't
have the resources. There was also the danger that you'd end up getting lost in
the middle of nowhere and it would have been more trouble than it was worth,
really.
Suddenly, he looks at Jongin sharply.
“I hope you kept all the polaroids! If you're really attached to any of the
pictures, I can make you copies, but those are mine, they are a valuable part
of my collection, in ten years when the fans have money, I will auction these
polaroids off for thousands of dollars.”
“You're weird, hyung.” Jongin eyes him strangely before his face softens. “How
did you know it was going to work out? How did you know I was going to be in
the phone booth or that I would actually go to the cafe or that I'd come here?”
Lu Han shrugs at him in an infuriating way, like somehow he knows all the
details, but they're not important enough to share with Jongin. He suddenly
feels like a lab rat again, and realizes that if anyone here's the cat, it's
definitely, without a doubt, Lu Han.
But then Lu Han notices that he's unsettled by the lack of answer and he says,
“Jongin-ah, your stage name is Kai. It means to open. You open doors, you
follow paths, you unlock the clues. And at any rate, you're here aren't you?
That's all that matters.”
This gives Jongin pause. “Wait, come to think of it, why am I here?” He fidgets
a little. “Why am I here, and not at Sehun's rehabilitation centre?”
Lu Han arches an eyebrow at him. “Yes, indeed, why aren't you at Sehun's side?”
He hands Jongin a polaroid of the Seoul Rehabilitation Hospital with an address
and a room number penned neatly at the bottom. Jongin realizes for the first
time how good Lu Han is to everyone.
“Thank you,” he says, suddenly grateful. Lu Han waves a hand at him. “I mean,
for everything,” Jongin finishes, and bolts out of the room.
He takes the stairs down three at a time, jumps the landings, and runs out
across the crosswalk, weaving past people to hail down a taxi. He reads the
address off the polaroid and leans back into his seat.
The fidgeting starts immediately after they begin driving. At first it's just
him shifting positions in his seat, unable to find a spot comfortable enough,
or maybe just too energetic to sit still.
His fingers drum on his knee, and then the armrest, and he stares out the
window, watching the storefronts, buildings, and people who they drive by,
thinking that each of them has their own little world, their own bubble, but
all of their bubbles are touching each other and you can't lock yourself away
forever.
He bites at his lip, and fiddles with his phone, too distracted to focus on any
of the games, but too bouncy to simply do nothing and watch as the scenery goes
by. Even his music doesn't interest him, no song can hold his attention long
enough so he keeps skipping by them, and he doesn't find anything that he
really wants to listen to. He is so impatient, so, so impatient to see Sehun.
Jongin doesn't allow himself to second-guess himself, be hesitant, or question
anything. After paying the cab driver, he runs out of the car, slamming the
door behind him, and straight through the automatic door into the hospital.
“Excuse me, sir, may I ask you to slow down?” The receptionist barks out at
him. Jongin looks at her and she points to a sign on the wall that indicates no
running, and requests for quiet voices. He bows his head.
“If you don’t have a visitor’s pass, you should sign in here,” she says.
He approaches the desk in a speed walk and grabs the pen from her hand. She
hands him a binder and points to where he needs to fill out his name, time of
entrance, and guest number. Jongin scribbles in the answers almost illegibly
and thanks the receptionist as she hands him a visitor’s pass. He slings it
around his neck without a thought and almost breaks out into a jog again,
before she clears her throat.
He excuses himself and finds his way to the elevator, giving the up button a
jab, and adds several extra pushes as if that will get the elevator to him any
faster. He taps his foot as he waits, wills them to move faster, counts the
seconds it takes to get from floor to floor and calculates how long it is until
one of them will arrive on the ground floor.
When it finally empties and Jongin gets on, he nearly closes the doors on a
frail looking old man with a cane. He presses the doors-open button only in the
nick of time, and even though they smile at each other, and he's thanked for
holding the door open, Jongin still wishes that everything would move faster.
Going up the elevator seems to drag on even longer than it took for the
elevator to arrive at the first floor. It feels like they stop at every other
floor for someone to come on and smile at him, and every time he smiles back,
the grin on his face is more and more strained.
An automated voice finally announces his level and he sprints out of the
elevator doors, has to skid to a halt to avoid crashing into someone, and
finally bursts through the door to Sehun's room in order to find him not there.
Zitao is sitting in a chair beside the bed with a glossy magazine spread across
his lap. The page is open to something about nail art if the picture is any
indication, but the writing is in Chinese and Jongin can’t understand it. Zitao
looks passively at his fingernails and examines them. When he’s done
scrutinizing them, he finally looks up at the open door and sees Jongin. If
he's at all surprised by his presence, he doesn't show it on his face at all.
“Uh, wha-? What are you doing here? What? Where?” Jongin comments, confused.
“I'm glad to see you're as articulate as ever, Jongin!” Zitao says to him in a
cheery voice, before looking back down at whatever he's reading.
“Where's...”
“Sehun is getting some much needed sunshine in the hospital courtyard,” Zitao
says without looking up at him. Jongin is frozen as Zitao flips a page.
“Hmm...” he says to himself, “My cuticles are in worse shape than I thought.”
Jongin is still rooted to the spot, at a loss.
After a moment, Zitao shuts the magazine closed and frowns. “Well, what are you
waiting for?” he asks in a huff. “Get going!”
Jongin doesn't need to be told that again, and doesn't bother trying to get
ahold of an elevator this time. Instead, he takes the stairs down and follows
the signs to the gardens. He bursts through the archway out into the courtyard
and sees the figure of Sehun sitting for the first time in months. It’s the
sight of him, so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time that makes him stop
himself. He stands there and can't help but call out, “Sehun-ah.”
There’s a moment that feels like eternity as Jongin’s voice carries and echoes
around the arches surrounding the courtyard. The figure’s head stills, his back
straightens, and he becomes rigid.
Sehun turns his head slowly over his left shower, to look back at where Jongin
is standing. His hair blows gently in the spring breeze. Their eyes meet.
 
A million thoughts run through Jongin's mind. Things to say. Things to do. The
past few months flash in front of his eyes, every word, every move, and every
desire at Jongin's fingertips. He's imagined this moment since Lu Han first set
his plan into motion, he's wanted it for longer than he knew. It's nothing like
he imagined. He isn't sure and steady; Sehun isn't running back into his arms.
There are so many variables. There are too many what ifs because of how long
it's been since they last saw each other. It's been so long.
Too long.
They hold each other's gazes for a long time before their eye contact breaks.
Almost at the exact same moment as Sehun looks away, Jongin averts his gaze to
the ground. Jongin can hear his heart pounding in his chest, can feel his pulse
even in his throat, and feels like he's about to collapse or explode. He can't
decide which. Sehun turns back to face the garden in front of him, Jongin
blinks and sees row upon row of huge blossoms in pink, yellow, red, and white.
Time slows, thick and viscous as it flows around them. Here, in this space,
they are free from it, and time no longer matters to them.
A breath. Two breaths. Jongin doesn't breathe.
There's a moment of calm. It's broken suddenly.
“Hyung,” Sehun's voice calls. It isn't clear. It isn't filled with the arrogant
confidence that Jongin is used to. When was the last time Sehun had called him
hyung anyway?
“Hyung,” he calls out again, voice a little louder, with a little more
assuredness as it rings through the courtyard, resounding off of brick and
concrete, “The zinnias are blossoming beautifully this year, aren't they?”
The zinnias, thoughts of absent friends. White; goodness, scarlet; constancy,
yellow; daily remembrance, pink; lasting affection. Not that Jongin knows what
the meanings of the flowers are.
Sehun takes a deep shuddering breath, inhaling the air to force down the sob
that's about to rise from his throat. It calms him enough to say, “They're
spring blossoms, or at least that's what I was told. And yet, in the summer,
you still see them in parks too. Somehow, they manage to survive for an entire
two seasons. So I thought about that, and I guess they're the most resilient.
They're waiting until every one of us has seen them before they shed their
petals.”
A butterfly lands on one of them, and its colour matches the yellow of the
flower. It's the same kind of butterfly as the one that had landed on Sehun's
shoulder all those months ago, a yellow swallowtail with an intricate black and
red pattern on its pale yellow wings.
Jongin takes a single step forward.
The butterfly does not fly away.
Jongin takes another step forward.
On the bench, Sehun is trembling. Gently, so that Jongin can't notice. He
clasps his hands together, laces his fingers tightly and firmly. He rests his
hands lightly on his lap. There's a thin beige blanket covering his legs, and
it absorbs the few tears that Sehun can't clench back. He bows his head.
Jongin takes a step forward.
A chill runs through him. He wants to reach out, he wants to turn back, and he
wants to, he wants – he wants a lot of things, but mostly he wants Sehun. If
he'll have him.
“Hey, hyung,” Sehun says, and pauses. Jongin wishes he would stop with his
hyung this and hyung that. It unnerves him, like there's a space between them,
a chasm, a distance too wide to be crossed. But it can be closed. Jongin
thinks. Jongin thinks that he would travel to the end of the universe and back
to reach Sehun.
Had Sehun rehearsed his speech? He's not usually this articulate or rehearsed,
much less insightful. Maybe it was just that Sehun had always been making
profound observations without Jongin realizing. Sehun's playful immaturity had
made it seem like there wasn't a grown young man underneath. Or, maybe, just
maybe, and it breaks Jongin's heart to think about this, but while he was
running away from doing what the mature thing would have been to do, Sehun had
grown up without him.
And then, Sehun's soft voice cuts through the air and in its gentleness,
pierces straight through Jongin's heart.
“Why won't you hurry up and look at me before my petals start to curl and fall
too?”
Jongin takes a step forward.
And runs.
He feels like he's running forever, always chasing something he can't picture
in his mind, but he's close, he's so close he can taste it, he reaches out his
arm, and grabs it close.
Jongin halts suddenly behind Sehun and whispers his name, just once, not like
he's ever called Sehun before.
“Sehun-ah,” he says. His voice is filled with love, inflected with pain,
desire, guilt. It's gentle, and melancholic, desperate and firm. Sehun, he
says, but he really means so many more things that he can't actually say, he
wishes he could speak but he doesn't know how, and he hopes that Sehun can
understand his heart without him voicing what's in it.
Sehun closes his eyes, shuts them so tightly. He feels alive, so alive, and
wishes for himself to never wake up from this dream he's living.
Sehun closes his eyes and Jongin takes a step around to face him. He doesn't
ask Sehun to open them. He looks, and looks, soaks up the sight of Sehun in
front of him. Sehun is solid and real, it's no longer a dream, a picture, a
memory, a shadow. He wishes he could breathe.
He falls.
Not in love, no, Jongin had fallen in love years and years ago.
He's crashing down, freefalling from the glass case he's built around himself
to reality.
Falling, falling, and he sinks to his knees.
His fingers reach out slowly, arm shaking but heart unwavering. His touch is so
gentle that Sehun doesn't even flinch when he feels the pads of Jongin's
fingers tracing his cheekbone, thumb rubbing against his jawline.
Sehun opens his eyes and watches Jongin.
Jongin doesn't look him in the eye. He's staring at Sehun with fascination,
like he's rediscovering Sehun. He cups his face, slides his hands down Sehun's
neck, the index finger of his right hand brushing against Sehun's Adam's apple.
He feels Sehun swallow, and brings his head to Sehun's shoulders. He grips
them, before pressing against Sehun's arms, squeezes his biceps gently, and
caresses the inside of Sehun's elbows with his thumbs. Sehun holds up his
hands.
Sehun's tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips when Jongin presses their
palms against each other, looking at the difference between the sizes of their
fingers, eyes dark and intent. He clasps them together briefly before lowering
his hands and ghosts over Sehun's thighs.
“I'm not going to break,” Sehun says but his voice begins to break even as he
says it, and he thinks he's going to break into a million tiny pieces from the
way Jongin is touching him as if he's fine china, delicate, fragile, and he
thinks his heart is being crushed, the wall between them is still there even
though they're touching, and he thinks he's going to be suffocated by its
presence. And then Sehun does break when Jongin looks up and meets his eyes.
Jongin's lips part and Sehun can't hold it in anymore, he can't, he can't, and
he reaches out and pulls Jongin towards him, and Jongin, Jongin's been numb for
months, but here, in Sehun's arms, he finally, finally breaks down and cries.
He hiccups and can't stop, cries, cries, and cries, Jongin cries until Sehun's
shirt is soaked against him and he feels gross. His sobs are so intense that
they wrack his entire body, and the tears that pour down his face won't let up,
and he can't stop from heaving, making childish noises and he knows his face is
a mess but he presses his cheek against Sehun's chest and clings to Sehun's
waist. It feels desperate, so desperate, as if one if them is about to leave
and they won't see each other for the rest of their lives instead of the exact
opposite, instead of finally being together like this for the first time in
months.
His throat is sore and his lips dry but he opens his mouth and says, “I'm sorry
Sehun-ah, I'm sorry. I love you. I'm so sorry, so so sorry. I love you.” He
repeats it, over and over again, like a mantra, and Sehun's tears are spilling
down into Jongin's hair and Sehun can't control the expression on his face. For
the sake of the other members, he's held back for so long, but here, here, he
lets himself go and cries so genuinely that he can't tell if it's from grief or
relief.
They stay like that for longer than either of them will ever care to admit,
crying and hugging.
 
The sky is starting to turn pink when Jongin sits down beside Sehun. He
tentatively leaves a small space between them, but Sehun secretly struggles to
breach the gap between them and allows their thighs to touch. Sehun grins at
Jongin and Jongin has to smile too.
It's another while longer before Jongin can speak again, voice scratchy. “I am
sorry. All of this...It's my fault.”
Sehun narrows his eyes and turns to face Jongin. “Why...are you apologizing?
What exactly are you talking about? What's your fault?”
“I, in the car, I should have, when we were sitting, I knew you were tired, and
I should have made you sit beside Lu Han,” Jongin starts.
“If you were in the middle, if you were sitting where I was then none of this
would have happened, if I hadn't been so fucking stupid, you wouldn't be here,
you're closer with Lu Han hyung anyway, and I don't know why I thought I should
sit in the middle considering I move around so much that someone leaning
against me wouldn't be able to sleep, and you were so tired, and if you were in
the middle then you wouldn't have been hurt, or at least, not too badly anyway,
and then you'd be able to, like I don't know, dance, or something,” Jongin
finishes in a rush and grips the edge of the bench tightly. He’s panting a
little because he hadn’t paused to draw breath in the middle of his rambling.
To his surprise, Sehun laughs at him. His eyes curve and his mouth opens and he
doesn't bother to cover it. The laugh is full and just as tinkling and
beautiful sounding as Jongin had remembered it. And Jongin forgets why he’s
laughing for a brief moment.
“That's stupid even for you, Jongin.”
Jongin’s eyes narrow. “Hey, wait a second.”
Sehun doesn't let him interrupt. “No one can wake up one morning and predict
that someone will ram into your car that day. You can't change things like
that. It's life. And whatever happens, happens. You can't take those things
back, so you might as well try to move to a better future.”
Jongin is suddenly hit with a wave of regret of having missed watching Sehun
grow and mature through this ordeal. Regrets not seeing him get up after a
fall, and rising up to become someone much more wonderful than Jongin could
ever deserve. It makes him realize the part of him that he's tried not to
acknowledge for so long, the part of him that cared more than he wanted to let
others know. He cared deeply and genuinely but he wasn't sure how to let that
show.
For some reason, he wants to defend himself because that misconception has been
what carried his avoidance for the entire time of his absence. He opens his
mouth before he can form an argument in his head, but Sehun beats him.
“Even if you had let me sit beside Lu Han hyung, then you would have been in my
place. You would have been lying in a hospital bed for eight weeks while none
of the doctors let you do anything but sit up and lie down. And then you'd have
to learn all this walking, running, dancing thing again and Jongin, I don't
know if you've forgotten, but you fucking love dancing.”
Jongin splutters, “But you dance too!”
Sehun gives him a look. “I dance, but I dance because it's something to do.
It's fun, I guess. But to be perfectly honest, I wouldn't really care about
having to relearn movement. For you, if you had lost your entire range of
motion in one leg, I don't think you would have been patient about it. You'd
have been reckless and stupid, and we all know you can't handle sitting still
for too long. I like dancing. But you, you don't just like dancing. It's not
even just that you love dancing, but you need to dance.”
Jongin's mind flashes back to an interview room.
“Do you want to dance?” They asked him.
Jongin shook his head, and told them, “No, I need to dance.”
He thanked George Balanchine.
Even though there were months when they hadn't seen each other, Sehun knows
Jongin better than Jongin knows himself.
“I'll be back soon, to my usual self I mean. I can already walk. It hurts if I
walk for too long, but I'm working on it. I don't always improve from day to
day. But slowly, week by week, I've learned to be a little bit more
independent.”
Sehun bites his lip and turns to Jongin. “I won't pretend that it didn't hurt.
It hurt. A lot. It still hurts. But nothing hurt as much as waking up without
my best friend. Day after day, I hoped he would come visit me, and every single
day I waited for him,” he says, trying to keep his voice as light as he can.
Jongin's breath hitches and he lowers his head.
Sehun continues, “I just wanted to tell him all the small things about my life.
When the food was bad. When my ankle stopped giving me grief. When my knee
stopped locking up. Every small improvement, I turned around and was excited to
tell him and show him. But he wasn't there.”
He feels so ashamed of himself, and the regrets keep building and building. He
had lost so much more than he thought he had.
“I was really sad when I never got to see him. I didn't know why he wasn't
there. I couldn't figure out what it was that I had done wrong. But then one
day, on the best day of my life, he showed up and I realized he was just being
an idiot. I bet he thinks I still blame him, even know, after I've explained
that I don't think anything's his fault. I bet he's still being an idiot.”
Sehun lifts Jongin's chin with one hand and touches his face with the other and
kisses him. He kisses him slowly, sweetly, and simply. It’s a kiss that speaks
of what was, what could have been, and what might be. Jongin brings a hand up
behind Sehun's head and kisses back, softly. It's nothing like the sloppy, wet
kisses of two horny boys seeking release under the sheets late at night. The
feeling is strange and new and makes his skin tingle. For the first time in his
life, he understands what people mean when they say they feel butterflies in
their stomach.
Sehun breaks the kiss and raises an eyebrow. He looks at Jongin seriously and
says, “But you know what, Jongin-ah? I really, really really, really really
really love that idiot.”
He leans forward and presses their lips together again and Jongin feels
complete.
 
Jongin will never forgive Lu Han for sneaking up on them and taking a picture
of them then. It was a private moment, and something he thinks is too intimate
to be shared. The privacy breach feels worse than if Lu Han secretly filmed a
sex tape of them together (and Jongin isn’t one to put that quite past Lu Han).
“You really couldn’t have, I don’t know, left us alone for us to have like a
peaceful reconciliation? Like what a normal person would have done?” Jongin
huffs.
Lu Han argues “But it was time for dinner! The meals are timed, and Sehun
hadn’t come back to his room so I was looking for him in case something bad
happened because you were being stupid again.”
(“I am not stupid!”)
“So I was going to interrupt you anyway, and then I saw you guys and it was
just too cute! I couldn’t pass up a moment like that, those times are when my
camera comes in handy the most.” Jongin probably would have relented a little
bit if Lu Han hadn’t taken that moment to pinch his cheek.
Sehun just laughs at him.
Jongin definitely does not request for a copy of the polaroid afterward.
 
Upon Jongin’s return to the dorms, the general consensus by the rest of the
members seems to be to act like nothing had happened, and pretend that Jongin
hadn’t disappeared for half a year.
Yixing is the first one who greets him brightly.
“I, well I mean, uh, so if you get some like, free time, can you uh, help me?
Uh, help me work on um, choreography?”
Jongin agrees readily and is awed by how Yixing’s smile stays on his face for
the next few days, unfazed by the spill Kyungsoo had made after flinching
violently and knocking over the water jug when Jongin attempted to drape his
arm around his neck.
 
Later, at dinner, Minseok pushes Jongin’s hand out of the way for last piece of
kimchi and when Jongin opens his mouth to protest, Minseok pushes the
chopsticks into Jongin’s mouth and Jongin almost chokes. He chews on the kimchi
gratefully and pats Minseok on the cheek.
“You need to be careful,” Minseok says to him. “I think Lu Han is rubbing off
on you.”
“Never,” Jongin replies. “I will never be a fan of Manchester United,” he
swears.
 
Jongdae is more confident and outspoken about making Joonmyeon’s life miserable
at every given opportunity. He corners Joonmyeon outside the bathroom and
Jongin catches him hissing, “If you do not clean your shit up off the goddamn
floor, so help me god I will take a damn picture of your collection of silk
thongs and send it to all of the anti-cafes and you can pay to keep them
silent.”
Jongin tilts his head and files that bit of information away for future use.
 
Wu Fan disappears for Skype dates with someone he insists is his mother, but
Jongin knows no one likes to talk to their parents more than once a week.
 
Chanyeol and Baekhyun are more annoying than ever after Jongin had gotten to
living in relative silence. They also seem disposed to including Jongin in
their loudest games and refuse to let Jongin go to bed even when he tells them
he has a headache.
“Are you kidding me? It’s like, midnight! We have so many hours left, and you
want to sleep?” Baekhyun says, bewildered.
Chanyeol punches Jongin in the arm, harder than strictly necessary, and Jongin
whimpers.
 
Zitao is the only person who really confronts him about his absence.
“Jongin-ah, you haven’t showered yet right? You better show with me or else the
water will be cold by the time it’s your turn.”
Jongin thinks it’s harmless because it’s the exact kind of behaviour they’ve
all come to expect from him.
He is so very wrong. He’s in the middle of rinsing shampoo out of his hair when
he feels something pointy jab into his ribs. It’s Zitao’s elbow. He looks up,
perplexed.
“So everyone knows that you and Sehun are a thing. And that’s fine, it’s cute,
but.” Zitao narrows his eyes.
“You really fucked up badly,” Zitao says and Jongin wants to know who taught
him to swear.
“So if you hurt Sehun ever again, I will kill you.” He points the shampoo
bottle at Jongin aggressively and Jongin just nods vigorously and speeds up his
shower process to get out of the small, enclosed space with Zitao.
He runs out of the shower as fast as he can to find Chanyeol on the sofa
talking in a voice quieter than he’s ever heard Chanyeol speak in his life.
Baekhyun is ignoring him for whatever is on TV.
“Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll text you to see when I can try to sneak out
next. Of course. Yeah,” Chanyeol finishes and hangs up.
“Who was that?” Jongin asks as soon as Chanyeol hangs up and Chanyeol jumps.
Baekhyun looks at them from the corner of his eye.
“Man, don’t scare people like that!”
Jongin is undeterred. “Who was that?”
“I-”
Baekhyun begins to giggle.
“That was your girlfriend wasn’t it?”
Baekhyun cackles.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to be angry too!”
“What?” Jongin asks, taking a pause from laughing.
“Baekhyun refused to talk to me for weeks when he found out.”
He looks at Baekhyun who shakes his head and can’t stop laughing.
“Apparently I’m supposed to tell my best friend when I have a girlfriend, what
kind of obligation is that?”
Jongin gets the last laugh.
 
SM doesn’t hold a press conference until eight months after the accident, when
Sehun can finally start running again on his own. Actually, it might have
nothing to do with Sehun being able to run again. Jongin doesn’t really
understand the way their company or management works, and doesn’t think he’ll
ever figure that out while he’s a member of EXO.
“It’ll be in a week. Joonmyeon, Wu Fan, prepare to be present there. Here are
the standard questions and replies. Study them,” their manager says.
Jongin pipes up for reasons unknown. “Can I be there?”
Wu Fan’s jaw drops and Jongin wonders if that was a bad idea.
Their manager looks at him, “Um, yeah I’ll talk to management. We’ll see.”
Before he realizes what’s going on, he’s being given a thirty page briefing
that he’s supposed to not only memorize, but be able to make his own.
“Jonginnie is taking on responsibilities!” Joonmyeon says, ecstatic.
Jongin looks at the stack of paper in his hands and quietly mourns his free
time.
Luckily, his face does not break out the morning of the conference. They walk
into the room and Jongin almost falls off his chair when he sits down because
there is a lot more camera flashing than Jongin is capable of handling. Their
representative says a bunch of fancy and useless words, and apologizes for
EXO’s sudden hiatus and the delay of their return. More cameras flash. His
explanation about Sehun’s injury is close to nonexistent and the press scribble
it all down. There will be a lot more speculating, but at least SM isn’t just
hiding anymore. Will they stop taking pictures of them?
“Suho-ssi, can you please present a message to the fans?” A reporter asks. Suho
is all leader and business-like when he responds. Jongin resists the urge to
roll his eyes and tunes out whatever’s being said. He suddenly wishes he never
asked to be here in the first place. No wonder why Wu Fan had looked at him so
funny.
He could be in a studio with Yixing right now. Or eating. Or sleeping. Or
gaming even. He’s in the middle of generating a list of things he could be
doing when he hears his name and is startled out of his thoughts.
“Kai-ssi,” a reporter says, “please tell us how Sehun’s injury is affecting EXO
right now.”
The reply is not from Kai, nor does it represent EXO. It is Kim Jongin who
says, “Our Sehun-ah is the most precious person in the world to us right now.
We will show him our love to give him strength.” He means it from the bottom of
his heart.
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