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Sunwoo lived the first twenty years of his life believing that he was at least decently good at every skill he picked up during his so-far short life. He never took the time to assess his skills and determine whether or not he exceeded at any of them (it wasn’t like he didn’t have the time, it just hadn’t crossed his mind in his 20 years of life). As long as he performed a certain skill and was left with at least one sufficient non-criticizing comment, he was far past satisfied. Sunwoo didn’t think he had a big ego or was narcissistic, he simply thrived off of compliments.
It likely had started since his grade school days where jealous students and overbearingly optimistic teachers alike constantly praised his natural socialization skills, which was obviously something he didn’t work for but was still an existing asset of his. As he got into middle school, he became fairly interested in the liberty and open-mindedness of creative writing and was praised once again for his exemplary display of artistic words. Then Sunwoo got to high school- but his confidence didn’t dare to falter. Continuing to receive good grades and boasting a shelf full of soccer medals, trophies, and ribbons (which mainly came to be thanks to endless hours on the school field), Sunwoo stepped out of school on the last day feeling more than ready to take on the unexpected dangers of the real world.
Life continued to work in Sunwoo’s favor after high school. With luck so exemplary that he was accepted to an entertainment company after passing an audition he was almost late for, Sunwoo immediately began his new life as an idol trainee and ended up debuting with eleven other talented boys as the main rapper within a short amount of time. Although time itself seemed to be moving slowly at first due to all the hardships Sunwoo and his team went through, the group’s first, second, and third anniversaries passed by in the blink of an eye.
It was now 2021 and Sunwoo was currently seated in a comfortable swivel rolling chair in a designated room shared by him and his groupmate, Jacob. It was one of the more pleasant rooms in Sunwoo’s opinion, with blue-colored walls that were easy on the eyes and decorated with things belonging to both Sunwoo and Jacob, along with other items the duo shared. Sunwoo considered the room he ended up in to be his neverending luck in play again. He was taking a short break from vocal practice to listen to music and browse the internet when the ironic sound of the newly replaced doorknob made an old rickety creak as it was being turned. Jacob entered slowly as to be cautious not to disturb whatever Sunwoo had been occupied with (he had always been like that, “You’re so considerate hyung, one day you’re gonna explode!” “Haha, I’m not sure about that, Sunwoo”) and smiled at the younger boy as he walked in. Jacob approached Sunwoo and peered over his shoulder to get a clear view of the computer screen’s contents.
“Whatcha watchin’?” he asked in a tone that sounded a little too curious.
“Oh, felt a little nostalgic so I decided to rewatch some of our old performances,” Sunwoo replied with a sigh, eyes in a half-closed squint due to the luminescence of the monitor. Jacob pulled another swivel chair from the opposite side of the room and took a seat next to Sunwoo. The two boys sat for a solid fifteen minutes not moving an inch and being entranced by the computer closely in front of them. Sunwoo slightly jolted when he heard Jacob move from beside him and looked over to see what he was doing. The older boy rose from his place and made his way to the door.
“That was fun but I promised Kevin I’d watch a movie with him tonight. See you at home!” Jacob said as if he were replying to a question Sunwoo didn’t even ask. It only took a little observation to figure out the habits of the other members, especially when they were together almost 24/7. As someone who preferred to listen over talk, Jacob noticed the smallest things about his teammates. These instances included how Kevin clenched his teeth in a forced smile when he watched something cringey, how Changmin added the English word “so” before his adjectives in Korean, and as presented moments before: how Sunwoo always internally panicked when someone was about to leave, leading him to inquire their future whereabouts.
Sunwoo convinced himself that he had no problem being alone, but he had noticed that he felt a little less secure while in solitude. He needed something to distract him from scanning his surroundings and believing he was being watched at all times. It was irrational to him and likely sprouted from watching too many horror movies and putting himself in an occupation where the camera was always on him, but he couldn’t help it.
Sunwoo showed a quick raise of his eyebrows and a grin to the other as he opened the door. He watched Jacob’s disappearing figure with an expression of worry blatantly plastered on his face. Turning back to the computer, Sunwoo clicked on the next video and tried to focus on his group two years ago. They were dancing with fresh, youthful smiles on the flower-decorated faces. The chorus approached and Sunwoo mindlessly followed along with the point choreography. There was a harmonizing sound not coming from the computer that alarmed him a little. He tried to ignore it.
As Sunwoo watched himself move across the stage, he could pinpoint at least ten mistakes he made throughout the performance and his grin was replaced by a frown. He wondered deeply if he had even improved from his debut and how much more lacking he was compared to his teammates. The harmonizing continued until Sunwoo angrily hit the space bar to pause the video. Two hands tapped themselves on Sunwoo’s shoulders simultaneously accompanied by a loud “boo!” and a high-pitched laugh following Sunwoo’s reaction. The younger boy whipped around and tiredly glared at the newcomer.
The person, identified as Chanhee abruptly ended his spiel and frowned at the seated boy.
“Sorry, shouldn’t have scared you like that. What’s wrong?” Chanhee also noticed Sunwoo’s emotional habits from being his roommate for some time. He was sure he was the only member who knew of the many sleepless nights Sunwoo spent laying on his bed and letting out the tears he held in throughout the day. Sunwoo didn’t like to joke around when he was out of his element and Chanhee knew that too.
“I’m fine, hyung. Just a little tired, that’s all. Oh, do you wanna watch our Bloom Bloom comeback stage? I can start it over. Or maybe you’d want to-”
Chanhee sighed and placed his hand in Sunwoo’s dark brown hair, lightly massaging the latter’s head. He didn’t go without noticing how Sunwoo closed his eyes in a relaxed manner.
“How about we go home so you can rest? I came to ask if you wanted to go together anyway,” Chanhee expressed with a hint of force and desperation that Sunwoo couldn’t read even if he tried. Knowing he would accept the offer anyway, Chanhee removed his hand from its previous spot in Sunwoo’s hair and gathered the younger boy’s phone along with other items he’d brought to the company.
Chanhee was reaching for Sunwoo’s jacket when the latter’s hand stopped him.
“No, hyung. You go home first and I’ll stay for a little longer,” Sunwoo insisted with more force than planned.
“Why? You can watch Youtube on the computer at home-”
A beat was enough for Chanhee to realize Sunwoo’s intention for staying.
“No, no, no. Sunwoo, you’re coming home now. Practice ended three hours ago and all the members are home already. You’ve done enough for tod-”
The younger boy sprung up with steam fuming from his ears. “You know what, hyung? It’s people like you who keep me from getting better at anything. I constantly feel like I lack more than our members and when I want extra practice, you… you stop me!” Sunwoo knew it wasn’t in his best interest to keep going, but he could care less at the moment.
“Do you want me to feel like a failure? Or maybe you’re so selfish that you can’t stand the idea that I could be better than you? You’re so egocentric, Choi Chanhee. Go home.” Sunwoo finished with a huff and stormed out of the room with his packed bag.
Chanhee stood in awe as the spot that Sunwoo had occupied seconds ago was emptied. He pondered on the younger boy’s sudden inferiority complex confession and fished out his phone from his back pocket. Chanhee decided if Sunwoo was making his way back home (he honestly had no idea where he was headed) it would be good to warn the members just in case.
new
warning: angry sunwoo on the way home.
do not provoke.
sangyeon
everything good?
i’ll let the others know
Chanhee sighed and decided it was probably in his best interest to head home too. He knew Sunwoo was dangerous when mad, but he couldn’t do anything to Chanhee except yell. At the end of the day, they were friends and would go far enough to say family as well.
On another note, it had never occurred to Chanhee that he might have had a superiority complex. His parents always praised him and his skills and even gave up part of their dreams in support of Chanhee’s own. It was touching, to say the least, and it motivated Chanhee to work harder to pay back his generous family while always believing he still had room to improve.
They say opposites attract, but how were a narcissist and someone with low self-esteem supposed to get along?
That was the question that wavered over Chanhee’s head during his route home, along with many others that appeared as a result of overthinking- a wonderful pastime of his.
Chanhee took one more step towards his group’s shared dorm. Am I good enough?
Two steps. Is my family proud of me?
Three steps. Am I proud of myself?
On the fourth step: crystal clear tears and a bitter chuckle of disbelief. Of course not.
And on the fifth step, Chanhee found himself on the literal steps to his shared home.
Sitting down in front of the door instead of opening it, Chanhee buried his head in his hands and let his tears fall. He had rarely shown his tears and was an emotional pillar to his group, so he hoped no one would step out of the house soon. He thought of his parents who sacrificed so much for their youngest son. He thought of his brother who supported Chanhee in chasing his risky dreams. Finally, he thought of his members, his second family, the people that meant everything to him at the moment.
After that, Chanhee thought of everything else. Every significant moment in his life, every item he cherished the most and everything in between. He thought and thought until he tumbled down the rabbit hole of human existence, the cosmos, and death.
Death. What a funny thing.
It sounded like the ideal state of being to Chanhee at times. He had also discussed the topic in-depth with Sunwoo over fried chicken and soda a week ago at approximately two a.m. after practice. Chanhee would be lying if he said that conversation didn’t allow them to understand each other’s hidden emotions. Sunwoo felt the same way about the topic especially with the immense stress piled up from being an idol and sometimes he would rather choose it than suffer from the emotional pain he felt.
Sunwoo.
Chanhee felt more than sorry towards the younger boy and felt the obvious need to reconcile with him. He looked up to wipe his tears and swore he saw Sunwoo staring right at him with his youthful, puppy-like eyes. Now you’re hallucinating, Chanhee. Get it together. He blinked rapidly and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t even hear the front door open nor did he know Sunwoo went home and here he was, sitting in front of him with a half worried, half apologetic look on his face.
Neither of them needed to say anything to convey their current emotions. Nonetheless, Sunwoo reached out and found his hands in Chanhee’s hair, repeating the same actions from earlier that night and earning him a loud sob from the older boy.
“Hyung…” Sunwoo started as if his calling would console Chanhee at all. The older boy continued to cry and did everything in his power to not let Sunwoo see him do so. As the minutes ticked on, Sunwoo moved even closer to Chanhee and fully embraced him; he had one hand still in his hair and one rubbing circles on his back.
Fifteen more minutes passed until Chanhee finally lifted his head, eyes bloodshot red and patches of dried tears on his pale face. He stretched his legs out in front of him and wrapped his arms around Sunwoo’s torso, laying his head on the latter’s chest.
Chanhee could hear the heartbeats of the younger boy as his chest rose up and down. It felt so human, for lack of better words. The feeling reminded Chanhee that the both of them were here, they were together, and they were living. He’d be lying if he said the thought didn’t make his tears fall again. Sunwoo looked down and furrowed his eyebrows in concern.
“Hyung, what’s wrong?”
It took more time than expected for Chanhee to respond, but when he finally did, he said:
“I’m so sorry. I have no idea why I was so upset with you. You’re an adult and I don’t have the right to act like I have authority over you, but I did. I was a complete jerk to you and I hope you know I’d never say those words to you if I had the conscience, I swear,” he began, obviously not finished with the rant he’d started. Sunwoo simply allowed him to continue, paying attention to how Chanhee enunciated certain words to make it seem more dramatic.
“Also, I’d have you know that you have the freedom to practice as you please, but I’m sure you know that already. You mean so much to me, Sunwoo. Even if I may not have much of a significance to you, you have such a huge impact on my life. I guess nowadays I just feel alone and I sit there drowning in my misery. I don’t want you to go through that, too,” Chanhee continued theatrically. Burying his head further towards Sunwoo’s body, he mumbled a soft “I love you” that was so muffled he was sure Sunwoo didn’t hear it.
If the broadening smile and pink hue dusted on Sunwoo’s face didn’t give away anything, nothing did.
Sunwoo knew Chanhee didn’t need a full essay response to his abrupt revelation so he whispered, “I love you too hyung. You have nothing to be sorry for and I hope you know that I’ll always be on your side when you’re having a hard time.”
As soon as he heard Chanhee’s soft snores escaping his small figure instead of a spoken reply, Sunwoo smiled and basked in the feeling of existing, words exchanged that night lingering in his ears while gently gazing at the sleeping figure in his arms.
“You won’t be alone anymore, I promise.”