Work Text:
It’s quiet, up here.
There’s nothing to worry about, nothing beneath and nothing above, just the swing and the thrill of it.
Juho likes the quiet. When he’s up in the air, he can’t hear the roar of the crowd, can’t see anything but the lights, and they look like stars, and that’s how he knows.
He’s home, here.
If he cares to listen he can hear the sound of the ropes tightening as his hands grip the bar, the slight wince of the air around him as his body cuts through it, and he can hear his own breathing too, regular and steady even as he swings about twenty feet off the ground. His muscles ache a little as he catches himself again, hoisting his body to sit on the trapeze, and he leans back, the lights overtaking his vision.
His other senses catch up to him then, because he hears the call loud and clear. He sighs as he straightens up and looks down to find Sanghyuk waving wildly to get his attention.
“Get down here!” the ringmaster shouts, his brow furrowed in what may be exasperation, worry, just too much light falling directly in his eyes, or all three at once.
Juho groans as he lets himself fall onto the safety mat, his body hitting it with a soft thud. He gets to his feet, wipes his hands on his sweats and takes a few steps towards Sanghyuk. “What’s up.”
“Remember that new show? The new show we’re supposed to be rehearsing?” Sanghyuk rubs his eyes and then he grips Juho’s shoulder with a little too much intent. “Jaeyoon wants to go over it with you, right now.”
Oh. Right.
He hadn’t been too keen on the idea, to be perfectly honest. It’s not that Juho doesn’t like the rest of the team. They’re his family through and through, and he’d do anything for them
But Jaeyoon is… Well, he’s different. In the air, he’s the most breathtaking thing Juho has ever seen, and he even rivals Taeyang in popularity with the crowd. There’s no denying he’s got an innate sense of spectacle, and he always delivers on his grand promises. But he’s cocky to a fault and he doesn’t care who knows it, and it’s the one thing Juho has never been able to get past. Even when he and Jaeyoon are getting along, something about the older man gets under Juho’s skin, misplaced admiration turned into scorn. He wishes he didn’t feel that way.
He still does.
“Right. Yeah.” Juho cracks his neck a little, works out the kinks from being up there even though he knows he’s going back later today.
It had been Youngbin’s idea. With the new full season fast approaching, the circus needed a new show to keep audiences on their toes, and he’d suggested that perhaps pairing Jaeyoon and Juho up would give the show the kick it needs. Their acts are similar after all, aerial hoop and trapeze, and surely they’d be able to come up with something good. Youngbin always has faith in his crew, perhaps a little too much, and his good nature is the one reason Juho hadn’t made too much of a fuss.
Jaeyoon, of course, took the challenge exactly for what it was. Another opportunity to show off and be the center of everyone’s attention - not that it was ever unearned. Sometimes Juho wishes Jaeyoon wasn’t actually as good as he thinks he is, because he’d have a little more of an excuse to be perpetually annoyed by the older man. But everything Jaeyoon boasts about is always backed up by the stellar performances he puts on each night and so Juho bites his tongue and steps out of the tent to go towards Jaeyoon’s trailer.
Even as he’s about to knock on the door, Juho wonders if there’s still time to back down, to tell Youngbin that maybe this wasn’t a good idea, no, really, let’s just keep their acts separate for now. Up there is Juho’s space, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to share it with anyone quite yet, or if he ever will be.
But then he thinks of the hassle it will probably be, and he resolves that surely working with Jaeyoon can’t be worse than trying to get Youngbin to change his mind.
☆☆☆
Things, of course, do not go smoothly.
Their choreography is solid and they’re evenly matched in terms of skill, so it shouldn’t feel like such a hassle to work together, and yet Juho can’t help the way his brow furrows every time they take a break and Jaeyoon starts going over all the things they should be doing differently or better.
“Okay, start again.” Jaeyoon snarls. They’re going to get this right even if it kills them, and the face of mild exasperation that Juho makes doesn’t deter him.
Juho hoists himself up with a groan. “We had it.”
“No we did not.” Jaeyoon crosses his legs, annoyance building up in his chest. “You were off on the twist. Messed up my grip.”
Seriously? Juho drags a hand across his face. “Your grip was fine. We did the figure, you caught me, that’s what matters, right?” He feels his palms getting sweaty against the ropes. “Please, let’s just keep going from where we left off.”
Jaeyoon huffs and a vein in his neck pops, his eyes getting darker. “We are not done until it’s perfect.”
“Perfect doesn’t matter.”
In a flash, Jaeyoon feels something heavy and dark churning in the pit of his stomach. He hates this, hates how nonchalant Juho is about everything he’s worked so hard to build. It’s getting hard to breathe through the frustration building up in his chest but Jaeyoon swallows it down best he can and he shoots Juho a look that he hopes means ‘get your shit together’.
Instead, Juho doubles down. “We came up with a great program, and everything’s going fine. I just want to get through it in full once without you going full Dance Moms on me.” He’s spitting it out like bile and barely recognizes himself. “Why are you always so anal about these things? Why can’t it just be about the beauty of the performance?” The more he speaks the shakier his hands get, and that’s not a good sign but Juho can’t seem to be able to stop himself. “Why are you so afraid of letting go?”
A shadow passes over Jaeyoon’s face that cuts Juho short.
Jaeyoon tightens his grip on the hoop, until he feels that familiar dull ache in his knuckles, and he tries to breathe in, breathe out, like he isn’t boiling on the inside, tries to get his head above the water.
But his chest feels like a dying star caving in, supernova blasting every bit of composure he still had.
“I’m not afraid,” he growls, barely sparing a second to be surprised at how low his voice comes out. “Let me show you.”
He motions for Sanghyuk to start the music again and extends a hand towards Juho to say, ‘from the top’. Juho doesn’t argue anymore, doesn’t see the point when Jaeyoon is determined to prove something to the entire world, or maybe just to himself. The line is too blurry at this point so Juho just wipes his hands on his sweats and lets himself fall back, eyes half-lidded as he lets the music guide him to the first figure.
There’s something different in the way Jaeyoon goes through the motions, lost in a thought that isn’t his, and every time his and Juho’s bodies make contact he feels a pang of something that resembles pain but isn’t pain, not quite. Fragments of a star that lodge themselves into his chest.
No one is allowed to get under his skin like that, no one ever has, and it’s not about to start today. There’s never been a challenge Jaeyoon can’t take on, no storm he can’t weather, nothing he hasn’t been able to prove himself to, so why should this be any different? But he feels heavier than before, has to put just a little more strength into his movements, and the air feels thick around him.
He doesn’t wonder if Juho feels it too, because why should it matter to him? He’s so detached all the time, like the air works around him instead of the other way around, and it makes Jaeyoon want to know how he does it. It’s almost infuriating how easily things come to Juho but Jaeyoon tries to keep his mind focused on the routine, on his turns, muscles contracting as he hangs upside down and feels a rush of blood and adrenaline and fire to his head.
Juho takes a leap, one that he’s done a hundred times before, twists his body across the void, and when he reaches for Jaeyoon’s hand he finds it where it always was, all the previous times. But Jaeyoon’s grip falters, then, when he goes out of his way to swing just a little further, and Juho feels his hand slipping, and his body doesn’t feel so weightless anymore, and then, suddenly, he’s a falling star crashing to earth without any fanfare.
“Jesus fuck, are you ok?” Sanghyuk cuts the music and rushes towards him, mind racing. The mat is built for this, to make sure these falls are always more scary than they are dangerous. But Juho lies there instead of trying to get himself back up, and Jaeyoon is scrambling to get down, and the sudden silence around them is so glacial that Sanghyuk physically shivers as he kneels down next to Juho.
For several beats, no one says a word. Juho keeps his eyes fixed on the tent’s ceiling, tries to chase away the too familiar prickle in the corners of his eyes. His breath is coming in short and he silently passes his entire body in review, to make sure the shock isn’t covering any pain he should be feeling before it’s too late. His back aches from the landing but nothing stretching won’t fix. What truly hurts is how he feels like he’s still falling, slowly, deeper than he’s been before, like something is swallowing him whole and keeping him down.
The hand that was holding Jaeyoon’s is still half-closed, reaching for something it can’t find anymore.
“Juho.” Jaeyoon’s voice echoes throughout the tent. “Juho, fuck, I’m sor-”
“Don’t.” Juho pushes himself to a seated position and he knows Jaeyoon is kneeling next to him but he refuses to look. “Just don’t. I can’t fucking believe you.”
“Accidents happen, yeah? Let’s just call it off for the night-” Sanghyuk tries, unable to come up with anything to try and warm up the mood this time around. He puts a hand on Juho’s shoulder and the only relief he gets is when Juho doesn’t shrug it off.
“Yeah.” Juho feels his whole body tense as he finally looks at Jaeyoon. “Was it worth it? Did you prove your point?” His throat closes around the words and Juho can’t stand to be here anymore.
He’s not sure how his legs carry him out of the tent but he feels the cold air hitting his cheeks as he steps into the evening, rushes past a concerned Youngbin and nearly collapses inside his trailer, all the fear from the fall rushing back to him.
Jaeyoon doesn’t say a word. For once, he knows he shouldn’t, doesn’t get to. His palms are burning as he wrings his hands together, knees digging into the mat, and he barely notices Sanghyuk leaving as Youngbin beckons him outside.
☆☆☆
He didn’t mean to.
Of course he didn’t. He hadn’t felt his grip slipping, hadn’t even imagined it could happen, but Jaeyoon knows it’s too late to make this kind of excuse now. He hadn’t paid close enough attention, hadn’t been as alert as before, and he’d made a rookie mistake.
The memory is burned in his brain and yet Jaeyoon feels cold, curled up on himself in his bed, rubbing the calluses on his palm like it’s somehow going to clean his hands of the whole thing.
In his life he’s never been unsure of anything. He’s worked tirelessly, day after day, to achieve the level that he wanted to see himself at, to feel like he means something, like he’s worth something, like the lights can’t blind him anymore. Perfection means not having to worry about anything else. If he’s perfect then no one can touch him, no one can bring him down. Those are the things Jaeyoon is sure of.
But as he lets the minutes tick by, listens to the faint noises of the crew milling about outside, and ignores another call from Youngbin to come sit down for dinner, Jaeyoon isn’t sure how he could fix this.
Things aren’t usually like this. He’s not usually like this, he doesn’t let things fester in his heart, doesn’t let anything derail him from his course of action. But then again, he’s not exactly used to being the one at fault, much less accepting it. He can’t deny his mistake, but he also can’t escape the tight feeling in his throat, the way his lungs seem to be filling up with saltwater when he thinks about the consequences of facing it.
He just wants to be able to breathe again.
The door to Jaeyoon’s trailer opens slowly, with a creaking noise, and everyone is polite enough to not immediately turn around to judge him. Juho pretends not to hear it, but the feeling creeps up his neck anyway when Jaeyoon’s footsteps grow ever closer, waves of anger and shame crashing against each other.
“Can we talk?”
Juho sets his glass down and marks a deliberate pause. Across from him, Seokwoo gives him an encouraging nod, and really if Seokwoo says it’s fine, then Juho can’t really argue.
“Sure.” He tries to not let his voice crack but it does anyway, when he turns around to face Jaeyoon and sees that he’s bitten his lips raw. Regret isn’t something Juho ever thought was in Jaeyoon’s vocabulary.
Shifting from one foot to the next, Jaeyoon looks around the encampment at the rest of the crew, all more or less minding their business, as usual. He usually doesn’t mind, but right now he has to try a little harder, when Juho doesn’t budge from his spot. If he’s going to do this, he has to do it here and now, and Jaeyoon reasons that’s justified.
“I am…” he swallows hard, tries to keep his voice low because this is between himself and Juho. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, I had a moment of weakness and I- look,” Jaeyoon kneels down to get level with Juho, still sitting like he’s afraid to fall again. “I would never, ever drop you on purpose. Yeah, I have my pride, and yes I was upset by what you said, but- I would never do this on purpose. I’m so sorry.”
Juho decides it’s probably not good to let Jaeyoon grovel like that so he turns to face him, keeps his voice on the same level as Jaeyoon’s, just to try and even the field. “Your pride doesn’t have its place in the air.” he says, insisting on each word in hopes that they’ll engrave themselves into Jaeyoon’s brain.
Of course, they go right through his heart instead.
Jaeyoon doesn’t know where he’d be without his pride. It’s been the one thing keeping him afloat, the only reason he hasn’t gone insane. Year after year, trying to find his place, it’s the one thing he could always count on to remind him he exists.
Maybe he’d flown too close to the sun one too many times, and stopped being afraid of it.
“Then should I just stop?” Jaeyoon tries to find a way to understand, and feels like he’s going deeper into a maze.
Juho pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to take a breath, but all he can manage is an exasperated sigh. “You really… don’t get it.”
That’s an understatement, Jaeyoon thinks. He laughs bitterly, but tries to look Juho in the eyes anyway. “I’m ready to try, if you’ll let me.”
Somehow, it’s the first thing that Jaeyoon has done right in days, and Juho doesn’t quite know how to reply. He looks around to see Sanghyuk pretending to not be listening in, so he grabs Jaeyoon by the arm and leads him out onto the grounds.
The spot allotted to them by the city is right next to a field, one of the rare areas still untouched by concrete, and Juho likes to come here sometimes, when the weather allows it. It’s safe here, out in the open and under the stars, where Juho has always felt at home.
Jaeyoon follows him diligently, because he knows he has no place to speak against it.
“How did I not know this place existed?” he breathes out when Juho stops in the middle of the grass and lets himself fall back. “Seriously…”
He hears a snort and looks down to find Juho smiling earnestly, the moon playing a game of light and shadow across his features. “Because you never cared to find out.”
It’s a fair shot to take and Jaeyoon accepts defeat, settling down next to Juho on the ground. When he looks up, what he sees makes his eyes go wide.
The sky is so clear that it feels like looking into something that was kept secret for too long and finally revealed itself.
Juho inhales deeply, tries to take the moment in, so many stars up above that he can only see on nights like this. He raises his arm and points, and Jaeyoon follows the line of his hand.
“I’ve always wanted to live up there.” Juho says, eyes fixed on the sky. “In the peace and quiet, where nothing can hurt me.”
If this were any other day, Jaeyoon would make a side comment about how there are so many things in space that could hurt you. But today he quiets his instinct because he’s hurt Juho enough already, and he won’t allow himself to do it again. Not when they’re sitting here and it feels like the universe is letting them have this moment to make up for all the other ones they’ve missed.
“I guess that’s what it means to me… to be up in the air.” Juho continues, his gaze going from constellation to constellation, naming them one by one in his head. “I’ve never wanted to be perfect, I just… wondered what it felt like to feel so free.”
He lets his arm fall back to his side, shifts to support himself on his elbow. Truth be told, he doesn’t expect Jaeyoon to understand. The fact that he’s listening is already good enough.
Jaeyoon feels like a fool.
The stars always seemed so far out of reach that he’d dismissed them too often, blinking lights that won’t lead him anywhere. But somehow hearing Juho talk about them, watching as his face is lit up by moonlight, Jaeyoon thinks that the stars could start to make sense to him.
“I’m so stupid,” is all Jaeyoon can say, fingernails digging into the ground. “All my life I just wanted to be perfect.”
Juho can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him. “I mean, that’s what we’re always told we have to be.” He draws his knees up to his chest, but his eyes are still firmly on the sky. “You just took it to the extreme.”
“Guess I did,” Jaeyoon admits it out loud, and it feels like berating himself. Maybe he deserves it. “Can you teach me?”
He doesn’t really know what comes over him when he asks Juho. Surely the years that Jaeyoon spent molding himself into his own ideal can’t be repaired or undone, and he doesn’t even know if they should be. But he looks at Juho, who’s so taken by the sky that he doesn’t realize, and Jaeyoon wonders if he could ever understand. There’s a thousand stars dancing across Juho’s irises like they’re a part of him, like they’ve been here all along, leading him through life.
“Teach you what?” Juho blinks, and there’s stardust all around them.
Jaeyoon huffs quietly, because he feels like a fraud now, but maybe he doesn’t have to. “To be free.”
Maybe he can learn to love the stars if he sees them through Juho’s eyes.
☆☆☆
“Are you sure?”
Jaeyoon presses his palms together, shifts from foot to foot as if he’s afraid that the ground is going to give out from under him.
Across the circle, just a few meters away, Juho is already hoisting himself up on his trapeze, muscles tensing as he sits and swings just a little to get a feel for the moment. “If we don’t do this now, we never will.”
They’ve only rehearsed a few times since that night, and the day of the new show’s opening draws ever nearer, not leaving them any time to really walk each other through the situation. It feels different though, this time around. They can both feel it. Jaeyoon knows it's in the way the tight coil he’d kept around his heart seems to unwind with each passing day, letting himself feel the air around him instead of fighting against it. Juho feels it when he looks at where Jaeyoon is standing, and the tension in his shoulders dissipates a little when he takes a step towards his hoop, like he’s not afraid to fall anymore.
He shouldn’t be. This isn’t all on him, Juho hopes that by now, Jaeyoon understands. He doesn’t have to be afraid of the dark anymore, because they’re falling into the light instead.
“Let’s do this, then.” Jaeyoon climbs up on his hoop and he gives Sanghyuk the ok to start the music.
The opening notes kick in just as they’re being pulled up into the air, and it seems farther above the ground than Jaeyoon has ever been before. Somehow, he feels strangely calm about it.
Juho can feel that things are different now, just by the way Jaeyoon’s grip on his hand when they start seems to want to follow him rather than to lead. It’s gentler than before, full of a trust that didn’t quite exist the first time they’d done this, and so many other times afterwards. If Juho listened to himself right now, he’d just close his eyes and fall back, let himself float through the air, enjoy this moment for what it could be. But he knows Jaeyoon isn’t quite ready so he keeps his focus, goes through the motions the way they’d agreed. He’s okay for now to keep waiting for Jaeyoon at the end of the line.
The music starts buzzing in Juho’s ears when he knows they’re close to that moment, the one where Jaeyoon’s hand starts to shake even now. He wants to look over at Jaeyoon, to find him and make sure everything is okay, even though they haven’t had another incident, because it’s better to be safe than sorry and because Juho wants this to work out so badly.
Jaeyoon doesn’t see him. His heartbeat is accelerating in time with the music, and he closes his eyes for just a second, not even that, a fraction of a moment to recenter himself. It’s not easy to trust yourself again. His grip shifts and his body tenses when he sees the spotlights again, all converging on him, and he catches a glimpse of Juho across the sky.
It’s not so easy, but he just needs to listen.
They’ve done this before. With shaky hands and unsure hearts, sure, but they’ve gone over it, gone through it enough to know they can. Juho doesn’t want this to be any different. He spins, once, twice, gets ready for his leap as every muscle in his body seems to catch on fire. The beats get faster, and Juho’s heart grows louder, calling out for Jaeyoon as he lets go.
Catch me.
And Jaeyoon does.
In an instant, the world starts spinning again, and Juho looks up to find that he’s still going along with it, that Jaeyoon is there, steady and sure of himself. It feels like all the oxygen in this space has been renewed, Jaeyoon tightening his grip on Juho’s wrist just enough to reassure him that the first time he let him go would truly be the last.
They can both faintly hear the sound of Sanghyuk clapping, from where he’s still monitoring them down on the ground, but any trace of his presence vanishes almost instantly when Jaeyoon pulls Juho up. In moments like this, that’s when Juho hopes that Jaeyoon understands him, hopes that Jaeyoon feels what he feels and sees what he sees.
The roof of the tent disappears, and there’s stars all around them, and as he helps Juho sit up on the hoop, Jaeyoon feels something breaking free inside of him, a restraint he’d put there and held onto for way too long finally making way for something else. Something that feels a lot like freedom - he can almost recognize it now, from the chills that run up his spine as he watches Juho move through the air to get back on his trapeze for the grand finale.
In the middle of it all, as he stands on the bar and feels the familiar adrenaline taking hold, Juho calls out, “You did it!” and Jaeyoon’s laughter echoes through the universe.
Getting through the rest of the routine feels like taking a deep breath after holding your head underwater for a second too long. Jaeyoon knows every muscle in his body is tense and aching, that’s always how it ends, but he can barely feel it, euphoria washing over him. It’s a new feeling and he even thinks he could get used to it. When he lets himself fall to end the performance, he feels like he’s floating upwards instead, catches Juho’s hands on instinct, and from then it’s easy to find Juho, who’s there to welcome him, to open a new world to him.
“So that’s what you meant.” Jaeyoon says, adjusting the angle of his body to be able to look Juho right in the eyes, to find the galaxies there. It’s beautiful, it really is, the whole universe contained in the look Juho gives him.
The music stops and Sanghyuk calls for them but they can’t hear him, choose not to.
It’s quiet, up here.
Slowly, only the sound of their heartbeats fades in, and Jaeyoon listens intently, holds onto that like a lifeline.
“How do you feel?” Juho asks, sensing that Jaeyoon is close to getting lost in thought again. It’s going to take some time for him to feel comfortable in this, but now Juho at least knows he’s willing to walk that extra mile.
He can barely think of words to describe it, but Jaeyoon tries to get his thoughts in order anyway. “Weightless.”
Juho laughs, and it makes something sparkle in his eyes.
“You’ll get used to it. Eventually.”
For now it’s ok to just stay here for a moment too long, even as the exhaustion starts catching up to them and their bodies ache just a little more just with each passing second. It’s alright to just stay in this space, so Jaeyoon can get used to it, so he can feel the pressure lifting off of his shoulders, never to return. They’re still swaying slightly, just enough to make sure they’re still in this reality, and Juho tightens his grip on the rope to steady them both. He could easily stay here all night, he knows the fatigue would subside eventually, he’s spent hours daydreaming like this before. But he’s not daydreaming now.
“I think I could.” Jaeyoon breathes out, and he’s nervous all of a sudden, heat creeping up his neck. He could easily chalk it up to the effort he’s just made, but he knows himself well enough still. “Thank you. Really.”
For the first time, he manages to swallow his pride without choking on it first.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline making his body move on its own, when Juho leans in and then he’s in Jaeyoon’s space, closer than anyone has ever been allowed to go. He can feel Jaeyoon’s staggered breathing, the way he’s trying to decide whether this space between them should still exist at all. It’s hard for either of them to believe that the distance used to be so wide, that once upon a time, not so long ago, they barely existed under the same sky at all.
A sigh of relief later, the distance disappears, and Juho places a kiss on the corner of Jaeyoon’s lips, and he can feel Jaeyoon smiling as he does. Maybe it’s enough, or maybe it’s an invitation, Juho hasn’t decided yet as he lingers. It’s a pleasant surprise when Jaeyoon makes the decision for them, because he wasn’t counting on himself to be that bold quite yet, and because Juho wasn’t expecting him to.
It’s easy again, to fall into the movement when Jaeyoon leads- maybe he really was made for that. He kisses as fiercely as he lives, but the newfound soft edge of his heart lets Juho fall into him easily. Who would have known their horizons would end up being the same.
The unmoving sea meets the wild sky, and the stars are born from that.