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It was 2 a.m., the windows fogged with dew and wooden floor boards silent. Chanhee was sitting on one of the dining room chairs in the kitchen, watching the rain outside, muted by the thick layer of safety through windows and concrete.
It was 2 a.m., and Chanhee wanted to disappear. He was hot and cold at the same time; burning with tension but freezing in anxiety. It wasn't the most glamorous feeling. In fact, Chanhee would say he felt like shit, but he didn't want to tell anyone.
His grip on his mug, half-empty with water, tightened.
Cherry blossoms were only supposed to bloom in Spring.
"Chanhee? What are you doing here?" Juyeon blinked, snapping the lights on. He made a beeline for the other member, huddled in a tight corner, squeezing his tiny skeleton into a tiny space to disappear. Juyeon reeled him back in with a gentle hand on his bony shoulder and a soft whisper, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm just... can't sleep, I guess." the hand on his skin was warm, a flashlight beaming brightness and flooding the hollowed cavity of Chanhee's soul. "Why are you up? You had a busy day yesterday, you're supposed to be recuperating."
"I was cold." Juyeon shrugged, looking at Chanhee's cup. "Oh, I thought you were having hot chocolate."
"I can make it for you."
Juyeon's smile, the curl of his liptails, the narrowing of his eyes into thick crescents, never failed to make Chanhee weak. He swallowed the petals brewing in his throat down, feeling the roots wrap around his bronchules and squeeze. It was painful, but he wanted more.
If he went too far away, his lungs collapse on their own like they did the day before. Juyeon had to go for a solo schedule, times they celebrate as a group because it means they all are advancing in the blind, monstrous world of Entertainment. Chanhee had to endure 12 long hours of excruciating pain, nestled in between Changmin and Younghoon.
When Juyeon came home with chicken, Chanhee not even subtly crept beside him and stayed there until it was bedtime.
Maybe things would be easier if he told Juyeon, Younghoon and Changmin said so. They kept nagging at him, worried for his obvious, deteriorating health and the bloody petals they help clean on nights when it gets too much. Chanhee didn't want to make them worry, he wanted to tell Juyeon too.
Then he remembers Law of the Jungle, watching with a weak, crying heart, as Juyeon smiled at Bona.
"Why don't you sit down and I'll make it instead?" Juyeon offered, noticing how Chanhee struggled to keep his shaking to a minimum. "Did Changmin overwork you during dance practice again? You know, you can always say when it's getting too much, or I can tell Changmin for you--"
"It's okay, Juyeon. I need to improve on my dancing." Chanhee quickly waved him off. "Minnie knows I have limits too, don't worry."
"Of course I'll worry." his liptails turned downward, bringing with it Chanhee's heart and sanity. "You're already so small and thin, I get worried even when Sunwoo pushes past you. You'd probably break in two."
"I'm not a paper doll!"
Juyeon gently held his wrist, pale and bony and sharp, in his own tanned, long and big hands. The contrast reminded Chanhee of cream poured on a coffee froth, a work of art, a comforting peek of domesticity in a cafe of strangers. Chanhee was afraid his sharp, jagged corners would cut Juyeon's soft, rounded edges; he pulled away.
"You seem like it." Juyeon simply said. "Come on, let me make the chocolate instead."
He put extra sugar and milk on Chanhee's cup, pulling up another chair so they were sitting close together, knees bumping and thighs touching. The skin contact made Chanhee nauseous, but it was also making his heart beat calmly. Who knew death could be so peaceful? Surrounded by flowers with blood on his skin, on the freshly cleaned tiled floor of the bathroom, who knew death could be so beautiful?
Juyeon always took his hot chocolate as it was: bitter and strong. Chanhee wondered if Juyeon ever thought that Chanhee and his hot chocolate are somewhat similar: bitter to the world, but still going strong. Chanhee wondered if Juyeon liked him like he likes his bitter and strong chocolate as well.
"We should sleep now, there's a schedule for tomorrow." Juyeon mumbled, wiping cream off of Chanhee's cheek. "Do you want to cuddle? My bed's suddenly cold and big."
"Are you sure you wouldn't accidentally kick me off the bed?"
"I've never done that!" Juyeon defended himself, putting their mugs on the sink. Chanhee's dark brown mug and Juyeon's cherry-blossom patterned mug. Chanhee had mixed feelings about it. It reminded him of his incapability to be honest, both to himself and to Juyeon. He hated the printed flowers.
But he also liked to think Juyeon bought the mug because it reminded him of Chanhee.
"As long as I get to be the little spoon."
"Fine." Juyeon rolled his eyes, already at the light switch. He flicked it down, dimming the kitchen.
In the darkness, Chanhee felt lost, eyes blinded with no light, his shaking legs drew him closer to the edge. He felt an arm on his waist, pulling him back from the treacherous chasm of nothingness and into the light. He felt a whisper at the back of his ear, by his jaw, like a feathery kiss of opportunity lost and chances not taken.
"That's the laundry room." Juyeon chuckled, reeling him back.
"I'll use the bathroom for a moment." Chanhee panted when they were in the doorway of Juyeon's shared bedroom with Sunwoo and Younghoon. If Juyeon noticed how Chanhee was sweating and paling, he didn't give it away, only merely nodded as he set up more pillows to accommodate two of them.
Chanhee emptied his soul again, projecting bloodied, fresh cherry blossoms the moment he locked the door. His vision was blurry with tears and resolve, the white becoming whiter, the red turning darker.
Once the fresh batch has been cleaned, Chanhee brushed his teeth with trembling hands. He was used to the loneliness that comes after the crash. Juyeon was waiting for him and he needed to hurry. Nevermind how there was a fucking tree in his lungs, rooted from his heart where he had accidentally planted affection for someone unlikely to return it. Nevermind how he will definitely reach the end of his braided fate soon.
If Juyeon was a bed of balloons above a coffin of spikes, Chanhee was willing to jump right into it.
"Took you long enough." Juyeon whined when Chanhee finally nestled into the bed, immediately enveloping the younger into his space, into his arms, into his safe bubble. "You smell like flowers." he also noted, burying his nose into Chanhee's hair. "You always seem to smell like flowers nowadays."
"Go to sleep, Juyeon." Chanhee's voice was muffled from where he was trapped in Juyeon's embrace.
"m'kay." Juyeon didn't move to release him from his embrace. Chanhee felt like curling in on himself; it was almost like Juyeon knew, and he didn't want to let Chanhee go. Instead, Chanhee curled his fists on Juyeon's chest, bunching up the fabric and closing his eyes, letting whatever tears he had to fall and hoping Juyeon wouldn't notice his slightly quaking body.
"Goodnight." he whispered.
Juyeon shifted a bit, reaching down to gently wipe Chanhee's cheek where it had been moistened with teardrops. "I don't know what's bothering you, Chan. I don't know if I have the right to know, either." he held Chanhee's jaw, and Chanhee prayed to whatever god there was that Juyeon wouldn't get hurt by the jagged edge of his soul that's bared right in front of him. "But if you ever need anyone to talk to... I'm just here, okay?"
"I know. Thanks, Juyeon." Chanhee nodded, lips bitten to keep it from slipping open and unleashing the ugly monsters Chanhee fought so hard for to keep under lock and key.
"Goodnight, Hee."
The tears wouldn't stop, and Chanhee felt bad that Juyeon was kept awake too. His hand had raked through Chanhee's hair, attempting to take some of the pain away, but Chanhee wouldn't let him see more, retracting into Juyeon's chest and attempting to get closer to his heart even if he knows it will never beat for him.
[Maybe it would. Maybe it was.]
He could barely open his eyes the next day, but Chanhee knew it was all spiralling down. Something was warm and trailing down his chin, and he couldn't breathe. He could smell the sweet cherry blossoms; the sweet, damned cherry blossoms. He could hear Juyeon begging him to wake up, yelling at the others to call an ambulance, saying sorry.
If only Chanhee could, he'd finally say it.
But the light was fading fast.
And maybe that was for the best.