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If someone had told Jaewon that this was what he signed up for, he wouldn't have believed them.
Back at the beginning - back when it was just the four of them with no eyes watching except their own - he wouldn't have believed that a dream so bright and shining could be twisted into a wound that's aching and festering, but life has a way of making things worse.
If someone had told him that in his second year of high school, he'd have to dodge bullies between classes and have to deal with insults scribbled on his locker and desk, he wouldn't have believed them.
People are kind, he would've said, lips curling into a small grin. Nobody would do that!
And yet-
here he is.
The soap stings his scratched-up knuckles, and he screws his eyes shut, scrubbing at the metal as if that'll do something.
It won't come off.
He's not sure if it's his imagination or the reality, but the paint won't come off.
A strand of hair falls into his face - burning crimson, the same color as the paint and the blood trickling from his nose - and he shoves it back, a sob threatening to spill over his lips.
He's-
he's fine.
He's fine, because there aren't other options.
He raises his head to stare at the locker once more, pushing his hair out of his eyes with one soapy hand. The paint still isn't coming off - simply smearing - and if he strains, he can still read some of the words on the metal.
Not that he wants to.
He rests his head against the soapy metal, trying to blink the imprints of stupidfatuglydie away. It's not the first time he's seen them - the internet is far crueler - but this isn't something he can escape.
Taunting laughter rings through the air, and he raises his head, gaze landing on Minsoo's friends.
Ah.
"Hey, pretty boy!" one of them shouts, and Jaewon ducks his head, yanking his hood over his hair. "What, you too good for us?"
He flinches as one of the boys - Woojin - grabs his jacket, and he chokes on a cry as they slam him into the locker, suds spraying through the air.
"I bet you think you're hot shit," he spits, and Jaewon keeps his head down, blinking a few times to try and stave off tears. "Aw, look! Baby's gonna cry!"
Please just... go away.
A fist slams into his cheek, and his face slams into the metal, pain shooting through his cheekbone and temple.
"Are you gonna cry for us?"
Woojin grips his hair with one meaty hand, and Jaewon cries out as the boy yanks his head back, scalp aching as damaged strands come off in his tormenter's hand.
"Don't worry. I'll give you something to cry about."
Minsoo doesn't particularly like his so-called "friends", actually.
That is to say - he doesn't like their personalities. What they do - running the city - feels almost intoxicating.
(nothing compared to the time he used to spend with dongho and jaewon and daehyun, but. they don't want him around anymore, anyways.)
"Hey!" someone calls, and he turns, bag hanging off one shoulder and hair hanging in his eyes.
"Woojin-ah!"
His friend grins at him, and Minsoo sidles over to give him a high-five, gaze drifting over the rest of the group. "Hey, Kunwoo-ah, Yejun-ah, Minjun-ah. You guys ready to head out?"
"It's just gonna be you and me today," Woojin grins, and Minsoo shrugs.
"'kay. See you guys later!"
Kunwoo waves farewell, but the other two are already chatting among themselves, which Minsoo can't begrudge.
He knows he's an outsider among this group.
(like he's an outsider among mayhem, like he wasn't before dongho shut him out and daehyun and jaewon tore themselves apart from him, like he wasn't before they left him-)
Woojin lights a cigarette as they stroll along, and it only takes a half-block before he's offering the box, dark eyes narrowed in distrust. "Have one."
"Nah. 'm good."
"Have one," Woojin repeats, and so Minsoo does.
The smoke burns going down and burns going out, but Minsoo takes a few drags anyways.
"I like you," Woojin states after a long while, and Minsoo chokes on smoke, a few gray wisps escaping his lips.
"What?"
"You have promise," Woojin continues, and it should feel odd, hearing this from someone Minsoo's age, but oh, it's nice being complimented instead of being berated. "You could really be a full part of the crew, if you wanted to be."
"I do want that," Minsoo insists, and tries not to feel Dongho's gaze on his back.
"...we'll see," Woojin simply replies, strolling a few paces ahead.
Dongho's wrapping his arm when Minsoo enters the room, and he raises his free hand in silent welcome, hoping Minsoo won't notice the bandages coating his palm.
Luckily (unluckily) for him, Minsoo doesn't spare him as much as a greeting, instead opting to chuck his bag down against the mirrors and hook his phone up to the speaker.
That's what they do these days. Dance in silence.
Dongho reaches out for his toe, dropping into a stretch, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Minsoo's movements - wild, uncontained, angry - and he knows that if he tried to dance like that, his ankle would not cooperate.
Some people resent success.
And Dongho just... happens to be the perfect target.
He spreads his other leg a bit wider, deepening the stretch, and Minsoo leaps into a turn, hair swinging around his face and nails digging into his palms.
Dongho doesn't interfere.
The door creaks open, and Jaewon trudges into the room, sudsy hair hanging into his eyes and bag slung over his shoulder. Detention again, then.
"Hey," Dongho simply states, and Jaewon nods, dropping his bag in the corner and leaning into a stretch.
God, they're just kids, too.
At least Dongho's the one taking the hits for the group.
The door slams open after another five minutes, and Daehyun races into the room, face flushed and breath coming in heaves. "Am I... am I late?"
"No," Dongho replies, gesturing to the wall. "Get stretching."
Minsoo hasn't seemed to notice that Jaewon and Daehyun are even here, as focused on his dance as he is, and Dongho finally straightens, reaching up to rub his bruised shoulder before heading for the speakers.
Minsoo glares at him as he turns off the stereo, and for an instant, Dongho remembers the boy he met a year ago - the boy who introduced himself in practiced English with a smile - and then dismisses it.
"We have practice," he states instead, gesturing to Daehyun and Jaewon. "Stretch before you hurt yourself."
"Sure thing, hyung," Minsoo spits, and Dongho watches as the white-haired boy trudges to the corner of the room, dropping into a series of quick stretches.
God, things are falling apart.
Nearly as soon as practice ends, Minsoo and Jaewon are out the door - the latter to head home, and the former headed for god-knows-where - so it falls to Dongho to walk Daehyun home.
The blond honestly can't remember who started it - their odd tradition of never letting him go home alone - but it's kind of nice nonetheless. Time to spend one-on-one with his hyungs instead of having to deal with the animosity of the group.
He hops up on a railing, sticking his arms out as a snowflake drifts through the air, and Dongho rolls his eyes, though there's an almost-fond twist to his lips. "Get down. You'll break your neck."
"No," Daehyun teases, hopping across a break in the railing. "That's you! I'm still, like, thirty centimeters shorter than you!"
Dongho rolls his eyes once more, exhaling a cloud into the air. "Being short doesn't mean you won't break your neck."
"It totally means that."
Daehyun spins around on one foot, gaze drifting to the darkened sky before landing on the lit-up buildings. "Hey, hey, hyung? Is winter your favorite season?"
"Not really," Dongho hums, gaze pinned on the path ahead. "Yours is summer, isn't it?"
"I was just asking," Daehyun starts, "because L.A. has nice winters, doesn't it?"
"...L.A. has three seasons," Dongho mutters, "hot, hotter, and almost cold."
"Nice winters!"
Daehyun stares out at the thin blanket of snow coating everywhere people can't reach and he sticks out his arms, tilting his head back and staring into the clouds. "I love the snow!"
He keeps up a stream of chatter until Dongho delivers him to his building, the elder's dark hair flecked with snow and fur-lined hood damp and clumpy. Daehyun nearly invites him in - if nothing else, then to wait out the snow a bit - but the knowledge that Dongho would probably refuse keeps him from saying a thing.
"Stay safe, hyung!" he simply replies, and Dongho dips his head, pulling his hood over his hair.
"You too, Dae."
He lingers until Dongho disappears in the storm, eventually heading inside and pulling out his phone.
He didn't get the chance to see Minyoung today, after all.
The first thing Jaewon does as soon as he arrives home is pull out his books.
The idol life doesn't leave much time for studying - Minsoo and Daehyun's abysmal grades are a testament to that - but he promised his mom he'd keep his grades up, so no matter how much it takes, he's going to do it.
He works late into the night, only finishing his last bit of work at nearly two a.m., and once he's done, he picks up his phone, ready to devote another hour to reading the headlines.
Idol Group MAYHEM Predicted To Take ROTY...
A New Rivalry? MAYEHM and SA1NT Seen At Odds...
Meet MAYHEM, the New Group Taking Korea By Storm!
The Truth About MAYHEM's WYLD - Good Boy or Playboy?
He shuts off his phone.
The number of articles he sees calling him a delinquent, a womanizer, a horrible person-
there are far too many to count.
None of them are true.
And no matter how much he wishes they would just go away, that the lies would just stop, they won't.
After all, people like a good story.
(he just has to wonder if that story is what his groupmates - friends, almost - believe, too.)
His gaze drifts back to his textbook, gaze landing on the few problems he hasn't completed, and he pushes back his hair, nearly grimacing at the straw-like texture.
He has more work to do.
"Minsoo?"
Minsung's waiting at the door, a beanie over his hair and winter coat hanging off his shoulders, and Minsoo pushes by him, eyes narrowed to thin slits.
"Minsoo, wait-"
His older brother reaches out for his wrist, and Minsoo yanks his arm from his grasp, fury bubbling in his gut.
"Leave me alone, hyung!"
Minsung stares at him for a moment, betrayal flickering in his eyes, and Minsoo takes advantage of that to storm up to his room, bag hanging off one shoulder and phone clutched in his grasp.
What right does he think he has to act like a brother now?
That ship has long-since sailed, no matter how much Minsung would love to pretend it hasn't.
He plops down at his computer, his chair sliding a bit to the side as he flicks it on, and his gaze drifts to his phone - one missed text from Daehyun.
He shuts it off without reading it.
Instead, he logs online and fires off a message to a few of his gaming buddies, steadfastly ignoring the way his phone buzzes.
Minsung and Daehyun and Dongho made their choices, and they're not him.
(he likes to pretend he's above it all.)
He clicks into a random game, easing his headphones on and letting his fingers rest on the keys.
It's time to forget.
It's time to do something he's good at.
When Dongho arrives home, the house is silent.
That's for the best, he decides.
Technically speaking, he has an apartment in the city, but if he wants to take the hour-long train ride home every day, then his parents won't argue with him.
Well. Aside from their usual casual disapproval of every one of his life choices.
Still - an hour of waiting is better than going to an empty apartment, so here he is.
"You're back," Jun states, and Dongho raises his head, gaze landing on his younger brother. He's leaning against the railing, hair a mess and sharpie scrawls up his arms-
Jun pushes by him without a second glance.
Dongho stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads for his room, exhaustion weighing heavy on his back, and he tries to ignore the way lights flicker downstairs, tries to ignore the way Jun's so clearly built a life without him-
no.
Stop.
Refocus.
He drops his bag by the door and takes a seat at the desk, pulling out his textbooks and blinking a few times until the English resolves itself into actual words. Taking classes in two languages - even if most of them are in English, which he's (shamefully) better at - isn't easy, and it's even less so when he only has the nighttime to work on them.
He glances at the clock for a moment - 11:39pm - and then at the yellowing bruises and healing scratches on his forearms.
He has to be up at five tomorrow, but he has to get this done first.
The joys of everyone expecting too much from you, he supposes.
He rests his chin on his hand, pressing his pen to the page as the clock ticks to 11:40.
Time to work.
minyoung!!! :D
min-ah
min-ah
minnnnnnnnnn-ah
Yeah?
Is everything okay?
i just finnished practice and
it's snowing!!!!
It is?
Wow, it is!
Do you think we'll get off tomorrow?
ahhh i hope so >~>
That would be amazing!
＼(＾O＾)／
＼(＾O＾)／
the company says they might let me go
busking soon!!!
do you wanna come and watch?
Of course!
and maybe sing? 0-0
Maybe! If they let me, of course!
that sounds awesome!!
and what they don't know won't hurt ;)
Won't Dongho-ssi get upset?
you can literally call him oppa lmaooo
actuallydon't
he will dothe thing
yknow
the thing
Of course.
Anyways, it's getting late.
And we might have school tomorrow (・ωｰ)～☆
See you tomorrow, Dae!
see you tomorrow!!!