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“You are,” Yeosang begins, hands moving on his camera even as he stares at directly Hongjoong, “In the nicest way I can possibly say this, the biggest idiot on the face of this planet.”
Hongjoong can only grimace at him because he already knows that. He’s been telling himself that since he agreed to do the video, since he saw the list of questions, since he got to the studio—he knows he’s stupid. Not that he would tell Yeosang that. “He agreed to do it too,” He points out because he’s childish.
Yeosang only rolls his eyes and makes the mature decision to not comment on how Hongjoong can’t say Seonghwa’s name.
The studio is toned down today. The lights are dimmed, and there’s only one camera in the whole room. Yeosang had told him it was because they felt like having only one camera would make it more intimate, and it would make him feel a little more comfortable. Even Hongjoong’s look is toned down, his makeup a little less heavy than normal and comfortable clothes instead of big name brands.
If he’s being honest, he’s more comfortable than he thought he would be. He thought he’d be sweating by now and Yeosang would be telling one of the assistants to bring him things, that he’d be digging his nails into his palms and wringing his hands, but he’s not. He’s comfortably warm, there are no assistants for Yeosang to snap at, his palms are fine and his hands are resting comfortably on his thighs.
“A bunch of my coworkers wanted to meet you after recording but I told them no.” Hongjoong blinks away from his thoughts, glancing up at Yeosang instead. This time the younger boy isn’t looking at him, fiddling with the lights and making them to his liking. “I know you won’t want to talk to anyone after it.”
Hongjoong gives a half smile. Yeosang is right, of course he is. Hongjoong knew when he said yes to doing the video that it would take a lot out of him and he would probably want to cry and sleep for days after it. “Thanks,” He says, and sits up a little straighter in his chair when he notices Yeosang looking at him.
“I’m gonna start recording now, is that okay?”
Hongjoong puts a smile on his face and watches Yeosang press a few buttons before nodding at him. “Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong. I’m a producer and an artist, and I’m here today to talk about the relationship I had with Park Seonghwa.”
Yeosang waits a second, probably for dramatic effect, or maybe to see if the camera catches the miniscule changes in Hongjoong’s face. He knows they’re there, no matter how much he tries to control them and it really sucks. But he’s not an actor like Seonghwa, and he wants this video to be as honest as it can be.
It’s funny because it’s the first interview he’s done about it—it’s the first interview either of them have done about it, and Hongjoong is sitting alone and it feels wrong.
“How did you two meet?” Yeosang asks him.
Hongjoong doesn’t even need time to think about it. “We met in 2014, when we were both new in the industry and didn’t really know anyone. I was fifteen, he was sixteen, and he’d been cast in the drama that really brought me to fame. It was the first time one of my songs had gotten any attention, actually.” There’s a pause in the flow of his words for a moment, his chest starting to ache so subtly that he barely notices it. “It was at a cast party, and we both just kind of stared at each other before we started talking and just… never stopped.”
Seonghwa had been beautiful back then, but a different type of beautiful than he was now. He’d been carefree, joy shining in his eyes even when he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, or the weight of society’s eyes on him back then. He didn’t worry about reading the comments with his name in them. He didn’t seem to worry about anything.
Seonghwa, when they first met, was the definition of youth.
“How did you start dating, and when?”
Hongjoong groans at this question, tilting his head forward for a moment. “I’m going to be embarrassed about this for my whole life,” He whines, and Yeosang snickers behind the camera. “May 2015. I accidentally texted him something meant for someone else. I was trying to ask Mingi if I should ask Seonghwa out, and the next thing I know, I get a text from him—Seonghwa—saying that I should. San watched me almost cry over it.”
He wants to say something about their first date, but there are no words to describe how he felt. He’d taken Seonghwa stargazing, introduced him to all of his favorite constellations and stars and the stories behind them. Seonghwa didn’t know most of them, but there was something about how he looked at the night sky, smiling at the stars like they knew all of his secrets, and maybe they did.
He wants to keep all of his poetic words to himself, making a note of them in his head to write down later. Maybe if he writes another song about it, people can find beauty in their dying relationship like they found beauty in dying stars that night.
Yeosang is still smiling, amused at the story of how they got together even though he already knew it word for word. “What was your favorite part about your relationship with Seonghwa?”
“I really loved being able to love someone and feel completely loved in return. He made me feel like everything in the world was mine, like I was wanted and always would be. I like to think I made him feel the same way,” He smiles to show that it’s a lighthearted joke. He knows he made Seonghwa feel the same way. “Seonghwa makes me feel secure, I honestly don’t think anyone will ever make me feel that safe again.
“What’s your favorite memory with him?”
This one is a question that takes some thinking. Their first date is high on the list, but there are so many other things that they had as well. In the three years of their relationship, what’s his favorite memory?
His fingers are tangled in the hem of his sweater now, and Yeosang’s eyes dart down to them. “I think my favorite memory of us is from my eighteenth birthday.” It was a year and a few months into their relationship, before they started drifting apart. “He was on tour, and I was in Japan on a spontaneous trip for inspiration, so I was alone. I was in my hotel room on my phone, like any nineteen year old is, and there’s a knock on my door. It was three in the morning, and I was terrified, so I didn’t answer the first time.” His smile is crooked on his face as he remembers it. “When I finally open the door, Seonghwa is there and he’s just looking at me, like I hung the stars.”
Hongjoong remembers blinking at him, jaw dropped, and Seonghwa had pushed past him into his hotel room like he was supposed to be there. He was chattering away, singing Hongjoong happy birthday and telling him how good it was to see him, and Hongjoong was crying by the door.
“We got lost in Japan that night. Slow danced in the streets, kissed in the rain, talked about everything we could.”
It’s a memory he’ll remember and treasure for probably the rest of his life.
“How long were the two of you together?”
“Three years, two months,” He says immediately, “We ended up breaking up in July.”
He doesn’t want to talk about this part. He wants to keep talking about the happy part of their relationship, the part where everything was fine if they pretended it was fine. Or even better, the part of their relationship where everything was actually fine—better than fine, even.
Nobody has heard this part. Not San, not Yeosang, not Mingi, not his parents, not anyone. He hasn’t talked about it with anyone, and maybe that’s why the ache in his chest seems to multiply by a hundred.
Yeosang is looking at him now, really looking at him, eyes piercing through Hongjoong. “Why did your relationship end?” His voice is softer now, hushed, like he wants the words gentle so they don’t hurt Hongjoong.
They do anyway. “It wasn’t one big fight, you know? We’re both celebrities, we both have so many things we have to do all the fucking time. I was making music, he was acting and touring, and at the same time we were both getting even bigger. It was hard to keep up with ourselves, and it was hard to keep up with each other too. We tried, though, we really, really tried, but distance does not make the heart grow fonder. It makes it hurt more.”
“Do you regret your breakup?”
“Of course I regret it. I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”
“How did you move on?”
“Moving on,” Hongjoong ponders. “I haven’t moved on. Talking about him in past tense hurt so much because I used to see him—because I still see him as my present and my future.”
He doesn’t mention how he’s still not used to sleeping by himself. How he misses the way Seonghwa would whine when Hongjoong wouldn’t give him attention, how Seonghwa would go grocery shopping and come back with all of Hongjoong’s favorite things.
Yeosang has that dazed look on his face he makes whenever Hongjoong has said something particularly poetic and beautiful.
He has to clear his throat before asking the next question. “Do you still love him?”
That… That wasn’t in the list of questions. That wasn’t something Yeosang was supposed to ask but Hongjoong can’t bring himself to be upset over it. “I’ll always love him. Always,” He blurts. “He’s my one , you know? There’s always that one person in your life that you’ll love all the time, and Seonghwa is that person for me. Maybe we weren’t meant to be right now. Maybe we’ll find each other again, and things will have changed.”
“Is there anything you want to say to Seonghwa?”
I want to tell him I love him again, Hongjoong thinks but doesn’t say, scoffing at himself. “There are a lot of things I want to say to him. I think most of all I want to tell him that he’ll always have me. When no one else will listen, I will. When you don’t want to tell the stars, you can tell me. Just because we’ve broken up doesn’t mean I’m not still here for you.”
He forces himself not to cry, making the funny face he always makes when he does it.
“You’ll have my all, always.”