Chapter Text
Recovery was slow.
Painful.
Nobody wanted to perform, but the performance had to happen. Nobody died, so with many safety precautions and apologies to fans who had waited, the show went on.
Two dancers short.
Hyunjin insisted Minho be his replacement, and Yeji demanded one of the girls take her place. She wasn't quite in charge of faculties enough to pick who, but she was insistent they not be pulled from the slot entirely.
"You can do it," she slurred, fist in the air, "I believe in you. Hwaiting!"
With a heavy heart, Chaeryeong took her place.
Heavy with resentment.
The network paid for all hospital expenses but--
Chaeryeong was expected to dance.
Just… carry on. Like there was nothing wrong at all.
So she wore Yeji's perfume, and danced.
But not to their tune.
All her anger and sadness was pulled into the performance, scaring Minho a little when he danced the duet next to her, and exited in the dark when the spotlight shined on her, looking back, worried, at the intensity of passion in her movements.
"Woah," Jisung's eyes were wide when Minho met him backstage, staring at the monitoring camera, centered on Chaeryeong, the awe of the crowd palpable, "She's… pissed."
Chan huffed behind them, "Good."
She clearly wasn't the only one.
The performance went on… barely. They weren't there, not really.
Stray Kid and ITZY made headlines, but not how the network would have wanted.
The absence of the two members was felt. Deeply. Fans were concerned.
Understandably.
"I'm not going to lie to them," Chan said, absolutely, with no room for disagreement to the management, "If the fans ask, I'll tell them."
He didn't need to. Word got out. And the fan support came in.
But the world didn't matter.
What mattered was two hospital rooms, adjacent in the top floor, constantly visited and filled with bright flowers.
Hyunjin was often not in his room when visiting hours finished. He sat beside or on Yeji's bed, practicing fine motor skills like sketching with shaky hands that recovered slowly.
Hair draped over his face. As picturesque in his weakest as he was in his strongest.
"You're getting better," Yeji's voice sounded dead.
"So will you," he tried to reassure.
She never responded. He'd tap her legs, but she'd look away. Maybe because she couldn’t quite feel anything below her waist very well yet.
"Go away," she said, "You're making me tired."
"Fine, you're terrible company anyway," he'd slowly get up to leave, but before he made it too far, he'd reach out his hand and touch her fingers.
Gently. Delicately.
Sometimes she'd tug on his knuckles, and they'd forgive one another. Sometimes she didn't, and Hyunjin had to squeeze her hand to tell her without words.
It'll be alright.
But when he went to his room, he wasn't sure he believed it.
It was quiet. Empty. He couldn’t escape images of being trapped.
Unable to breathe, unable to see, unable to–
"Hyunjin-ah," Changbin brought Choco Boys, a new package each day, "Slow down. Recover quickly."
Hyunjin shook his head as he stuffed his face with chocolate, dirtying his wrist brace without a care, "That makes no sense hyung."
Yuna held Yeji's hand often in the room next to them, skipping school, skipping practice, and skipping sleep just to see Yeji smile.
"We told you that you'd be fine," Yuna couldn't stop crying, no matter how hard she tried, "We told you."
Yeji didn't know how to tell her that she'd had so many surgeries and a lot of drugs to get her to this point. This wasn't normal, this wasn't "alright."
Not yet.
"Don't worry about unnie," Yeji petted her hand fondly, sleep dragging her consciousness away, as it often did nowadays, "Don't worry… don't worry."
Everyone was worried.
Yeji had a bad spinal injury. Hyunjin had terrible muscle damage. Dancing wasn't even on the radar.
Only surviving was.
And Yeji's survival was looking bleak.
She couldn't command her feet to do what she wanted, let alone walk.
And it did nightmares on her mind.
Ryujin heard Yeji when the drugs wore out and the pain set into her bones. It was a haunting thought, a sound, a wish that she never wanted to hear.
"She wanted to die," she'd confide in Chan, in a raspy, barely audible whisper, hiding in the green walls of his studio, and sometimes to Seungmin when they were in the same hall, "She still wants to… sometimes."
They worried for Yeji. And it made them worry for Hyunjin.
"Hyunjin-ah?" Jisung brought an extra box of chocolates, nervously eating him as he thought of his friend, staring at the possibility of dance being far out of reach, "Hey I brought you--"
The room was empty.
The bed was empty.
Panic.
"Hyunjin?" Jisung checked around the room, hands in hair and chocolate forgotten on the floor as he swore, "Hyun--"
He was prepared to search all of Seoul. All of Korea if he had to.
But he didn't make it far.
Only two steps out of the room when he saw the tall figure and long hair, silhouetted.
"For the love of--" he whacked Hyunjin's arm as he entered the room, "Don't do that to me, you--"
Hyunjin was still.
Jisung also froze.
All the girls were here, along with a doctor and nurses. It was crowded for the little room, but surprisingly quiet.
Hushed, as everyone watched with bated breath.
Yeji.
She stood, fragile, bent over as she held onto a nurse--
And then walked.
One step, two–
Slowly.
Unsteady.
But one foot in front of the other, walked .
Jisung let out a laugh, he couldn't help himself. He actually started clapping, as did the doctor, and the girls, and Ryujin looked so happy she could burst.
Hyunjin didn't move. He only smiled.
Yeji was crying, slowly letting go of the nurse as she neared everyone in the crowd, the girls taking turns to hug her. And she slowly, slowly, made her way to Hyunjin.
He held out a hand, just in case, but she didn't take it. She looked up at him, smiling with her whole face.
"Soon," she said, I'll make it soon.
Jisung didn't really understand, when she tripped and held his sleeve, and he didn't push her off or insist she sit down. She held onto his sleeve, supporting herself, and stood next to him.
White fisting the material, clutching onto it like he'd disappear.
When no one was watching, Hyunjin's hand slipped over her knuckles. Soft. Delicate.
Even when she let go, it was hesitantly, uncertainly, like she wanted to be sure she'd be able to reach out again.
She did that a lot, after Hyunjin got discharged and they'd visit, Yeji walking a little farther each time.
Farther down the hall. To the water fountain. To the elevator. To the front desk.
"See? You'll make it," Hyunjin would loop his arm through hers, so it would look more natural as she leaned on him for support.
Like a pair going for a walk together.
Jeongin would follow behind, nervously and politely, "You're doing great, noona."
"Hm," she never sounded like she believed them.
But little by little, maybe if she said it enough to herself…
Even after being discharged, even after they both returned to the stage, sitting and not dancing, but in the flesh, and singing, Yeji still didn't believe it.
Part of Hyunjin didn't either.
Maybe because they didn't dance for another six months, and even then, it didn't feel the same.
Not the passion and freedom of before.
Not another language, secret and precious.
It felt foreign. Distant. Wrong .
It was always with therapy, with cushioned floors, with hands on their joints, correcting, supporting.
Never good enough. Never where it was.
Like they were trying too hard for something they could never reach.
"You'll get there," the choreographers, their members, their managers, everyone who knew them would say it, "You'll get there."
Nobody told them when .
"It hurts."
Hyunjin became hyperactive to that statement. He put his chopsticks down and gave Yeji all his attention.
"What? Where?"
Yeji shook her head. Her Ramen was untouched, she was staring out the window, a sad dip to her lips, frowning, like she couldn't be happy.
It made Hyunjin nervous. It took his mind right back to the accident when she'd looked dead and--
His hands started prodding at her back, at her neck, before he could stop himself. He was worried, and working based on his trauma. Searching from something broken, something damaged, something–
"No, stop," she pushed his hands away, "Not that kind of hurt."
Oh.
Hyunjin folded his hands in his lap and waited patiently. His heart was bleeding for her. Because he wasn't sure how he'd feel when he joined the team again, completely and fully, as a main dancer, and Yeji still struggled behind.
It felt wrong.
They both went down together. It was only fair that they both rose together as well.
"I'm sorry," he said, because that's all there was to be said.
"Me too," Yeji thought about it, another story sad and true, and she thought about quitting.
She thought about death.
"I won't leave you," They bonded, over trauma and other things, like these things happen, and sat watching boring dramas and the sea kissing their feet on days they had to themselves, Hyunjin holding her hand when he felt a crushing weight bearing down on him, "Don't leave me, alright?"
It was a hard promise, but Yeji kept it. It was sacred, in a way, like Hyunjin's hand in hers. Or his breath on her cheek when they were trapped, and there was nothing but sound and shadow.
The seasons passed. It was hard. But she kept her promise.
"You look good, Yeji-ah," So many would say, but especially Chan whenever he saw her.
He tried so hard to encourage them.
She wasn't sure she believed him, because praise didn't work on her like it used to. But she bowed respectfully and carried on.
"I'm a little sad," Felix and Lia would say, "Minho and Chaeryeong's performance was good… but I'd have liked to see the original."
They hadn’t meant for them to overhear. It was a hard goal to achieve, something at the pinnacle of their careers, at the height of success, so very far from where they were now.
But Yeji overheard, around the corner, behind the door.
And she shared it with Hyunjin, like a stolen candy, something that lit a fire in her eyes, and made Hyunjin hope.
It became a new goal. A new star on the horizon.
Perhaps it was intentional, Jisung giving Felix an indiscreet hug after plans had been made for the Hwangs to meet and practice.
Hyunjin and Yeji weren't sure they cared.
It felt right, the two of them in a practice room, reconnecting with the roots of an old tree that was struggling to grow in the winter.
Practices started out rough.
Stiff limbs, hesitant steps.
But they quickly got better.
And then they were standing, staring at their reflections while eleven other faces watched expectedly. There were others, managers, choreographers, friends, but they were hidden, behind the eleven other faces that truly mattered in this moment.
The countdown of the music, the blaring of the speaker, and then–
It seeped into their bones and grew as roses, ivy tracing their steps.
They didn't know themselves as the music took them over.
Hyunjin's sharp movements returned, Yeji's natural connection to the rhythm.
Everyone was stunned. But at the same time, no one was.
Hyunjin ducked as Yeji's leg flew over his head, and then reached and grabbed her wrist, fingers encircling each other’s, leaning back and spinning her around him on the floor.
Gravity served them.
Their movements were precise, perfect reflections of one another, a standard unto themselves that they always exceeded.
There was a sense of relief, of pride, when Yeji took center and flourished her hands above her head.
The Hwangs were back.
From the floors of the building, to the music echoing in their souls.
They were back.
It was the last bests of the song, and Hyunjin made a slight misstep, a beat too quickly that could have gone unnoticed.
Yeji glared at him.
No one else noticed. Their jaws were hung in awe, hypnotized till the last moment, amazed and unable to tear their gazes away. Electric, magnetic, powerful.
Roaring applause, filling the room when they finished.
They finished with power and Yeji turned her gaze, harsh and scolding towards him.
Hyunjin bit his lip to keep from laughing.
Yuna looked confused from one to the other, "What? What happened?"
Hyunjin bowed to hide his smile, "Sorry."
Yeji sputtered, " Sorry?! Two months of practice and 'sorry' is what I get?!"
Hyunjin couldn't help himself, amusement blossoming all through his veins, because she was back.
Yeji was back.
Everyone else realized it a moment after him, and soon, the lightheartedness spread like wildfire, and all Yeji could do was slap Hyunjin lightly on the arm, a broad smile bright on her face.
It was good to be alive.
It was the movement, the emotions, the thrill behind it, when they took to the stage, properly, as two teams respectively.
Back in their stage costumes, back in the green rooms, back to the mics and the sounchecks.
Beck under the spotlight.
They passed each other backstage, and unspoken, they took each other's hand, and gave a reassuring squeeze.
Strong, and steady.
A fluid movement of passion and skill.
Of one soul.
Alive.