Chapter Text
When Beomgyu woke up, the first thing he was expecting was the smell of five different senses mixing together into one. Vanilla, cotton candy, apple, cinnamon, and lavender. Such different scents would always greet the man, even in its strange blend. It was, honestly, a pleasant scent to the man; a strong but delicate scent, almost representative of him and his own friends, his members. The feistiness and zest, then the sweetness and gentleness. These mixed into one, and Beomgyu would always soak it in.
Yet, right now, he only smelled cinnamon. A strong, strong scent of cinnamon. However, it wasn't the sole thing that was off about the whole situation. If not only that, the room he was in was familiar, but not familiar . It was something he’d describe as nothing more than homely and nostalgic, as if he wasn’t meant to be here.
Because I’m not supposed to be here right now.
The man furrowed his brows. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the ceiling. It would’ve been a familiar sight if it weren’t for how different it looked in comparison to the dorm because, goddamn, was his dorm room supposed to be this wide and tall?
Then, he felt the mattress and blankets his body was sandwiched in. He was still relatively comfortable, but it was different. Something was different. The feeling was different, and the blankets and sheets were differently textured and colored from what he remembered.
The cherry on top had to be the room itself. When Beomgyu sat himself up, he realized that the reason why his room felt familiar-unfamiliar (Beomgyu had to entertain the idea that it sounded like an Enhypen title track) was the fact that this room wasn’t his dorm room, but was still his .
It was his room back home. The same arrangement of notebooks, the same arrangements of pencils and bags, the same set of colognes and oils—everything was the same and untouched.
Which would be great… If not for the fact I’m in my room. What the fuck?! Where am I?! Who’s pranking me?!
Beomgyu quickly rolled off the bed, hissing slightly when skin touched the cold ground. He glanced around the room for his phone, snatching it off the counter. He expected to get a couple of notifications, at least a reminder that he was on some sort of schedule or some sort of prank video.
Wait, if this was a prank video, then they wouldn’t tell me anything- Okay, wait, but how’d I even get here?!
He frowned when he saw nothing. There were no notifications, no messages. He unlocked the device with the passcode and frowned yet again. There was nothing.
He searched his messages. On top of the list was his mother and relatives, then a couple of friends… Some of which he realized he hasn’t talked to in a while ever since he’s been an idol. Quite strange, but strangely it made him happy.
… Wait, I never texted them. Why are the messages from me?
He shook his head. No, he was probably overthinking things.
He scratched the back of his head as he scrolled down. His heart clenched, stomach strangely churning. He wasn’t sure why, but it was so strange how arranged his messages were. He expected his mother and friends to be relatively high, but not placed where his members were supposed to be. They practically made up a decent amount- no, a significant amount of his life.
Why are they at the bottom then?
The man scratched the back of his head. He noticed Yeonjun’s name and clicked on it. He was ready to type in a message, something along the lines of “bro, are you guys pranking me?”, but he froze.
Instead, he found himself greatly confused.
It was a text message that Yeonjun had sent him years ago and Beomgyu had strangely never responded. If not only that, but the content of the message was… peculiar, to say the least.
Yeonjun: I hope you’re happy with your decision.
The man didn’t know what Yeonjun was talking about nor why the message was sent years ago. Beomgyu wasn’t sure what to say, just awkwardly chuckling.
I… Uh, guess it doesn’t hurt to try?
He hesitantly sent a message. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so nervous now, especially when Yeonjun always treated him sweetly. A game of push and pull, yet Beomgyu felt as if he was playing a game of hot and cold, and he was freezing.
Beomgyu: hyung, do you not use the texting app anymore? your message was years ago
Honestly, he was expecting it to be taken as a joke. It would’ve made sense. Beomgyu could validate Yeonjun’s years-old text with him having migrated to a different site. Maybe Yeonjun was focused primarily on something like Instagram DMs or something.
Well, Beomgyu wasn’t sure. He stared at his message, watching it as it was delivered… then saw that it was read.
Oh, he’s active.
That should’ve been a red flag. He should’ve questioned why Yeonjun hadn’t texted him so much since then, yet he didn’t. Instead, he watched as the talking bubble popped up, and then, the text.
Yeonjun: What are you talking about? Why are you messaging me now?
It sounded so harsh, so cold. Beomgyu frowned as he read it once, then twice. He read it over and over again, yet he couldn’t make out why it sounded so rude. Beomgyu gulped.
Beomgyu: i’m sorry? i’m in my room right now and i don’t know if this is supposed to be a prank or not
Beomgyu: ^.^???
Yeonjun: Really? Are you treating this like a joke now? Why are you messaging me like this?
Yeonjun: Please.
Beomgyu was even more confused now. He held his breath, glancing around the room. There were no hidden cameras in sight, no one he sensed. He was the only one inside the room.
Beomgyu: hyung??? i don’t understand
Yeonjun: Just don’t text me anymore.
It was so quick, so blunt. It was the simplest yet cruelest thing Yeonjun could’ve said. Beomgyu felt his stomach churn, lips pursing in disdain.
Did I do something wrong?
There was a lump in his throat. It itched. He glanced around the room for what felt like the thousandth time. Yet again, there were no cameras to be seen. He was the only one who was inside the room. His room.
Maybe I should just…
Beomgyu glanced down at the other members’ DMs with him. It was obvious that they, as well, hadn't responded or texted him in years. In fact, it looked like Yeonjun was the most recent person out of TXT to text them.
Goddamn, what’s up with that?
Beomgyu clicked onto Soobin’s profile, eyeballing the last few messages. It looked like Soobin had practically ghosted Beomgyu, judging by the flurry of text messages that was read, but not responded to.
Why wouldn’t he respond to me though?
And, even when he looked at Taehyun and Kai’s messages, it was obvious that something bad had happened. It was obvious that they were upset with him, either from a lack of responses or the tone of messages from the sender. From Soobin and Kai’s lack of response to Yeonjun and Taehyun’s cold tone, Beomgyu was completely unaware of what could’ve been going on years ago.
It’s not like anything happened that was big, right? I don’t even remember messaging them like this…
Beomgyu scratched the back of his head. Well, he wasn’t sure. He quickly went back to Yeonjun’s DMs and typed rapidly.
Beomgyu: hyung, i’m sorry but i rlly don’t know anything
Beomgyu: what happened to my messages??? i thought i texted you guys, but i can’t see anything after 2020
Yeonjun: Beomgyu, stop acting innocent.
Beomgyu: what???
Yeonjun: After what you did to Soobin and me? You think you could get away by acting dumb now?
Yeonjun: Please, stop acting like this.
And now, Beomgyu was overwhelmed with a sense of confusion. He was purely baffled, stunned. He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong nor why Yeonjun was acting so harsh, so cold.
He was waiting for the moment Yeonjun would drop the act. He was waiting for much for the man to simply say “I’m joking” and go back to doting on him like he always did. He was waiting, but it never came.
Beomgyu closed his phone. He hesitantly put it back in his pocket, forcing himself out of bed. He held in his breath, looking around, yet again, for any cameras. Nothing. He slowly rubbed his eyes, then walked out.
Down the stairs, he could hear the clatter of tupperware. Walking down, he saw a familiar and comfortable sight. It was his mother, humming softly as she bit into her food.
“Mom?”
She perked her head up and smiled. She wasn’t surprised to see him, as if he had always been in this house—as if he wasn’t an idol. With her kind and bright eyes, she motioned the man to take a seat where his plate was.
Beomgyu hesitantly sat himself down. He looked down at his food, noting that it was some barbecue that she ordered for takeout. He normally wouldn’t have minded it, but his focus was elsewhere. “Mom, um…”
“Yes, sweetie?” She gulped down a glass of water. “Did you want to eat something else? I have the kimchi in the fridge if you want that instead.”
“No, it’s not that.” He narrowed his gaze. Pursing his lips, he looked at his mother. “Um, why am I here?”
“Hm?”
It was obvious that she was confused. She was genuinely confused and this wasn’t some sort of trick. Beomgyu held his breath. “I… Aren’t I supposed to be back in Seoul? I thought I was working on the comeback.”
His words were quiet, hesitant. It was unlike him, and it was a saddening sight for his mother who pursed her lips. She sighed as she gulped down on her food, staring at him, watching him.
“Beomgyu-ah,” she began, gently, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you have a bad dream again?”
“W-What?” Beomgyu’s face fell. “No, Mom, I didn’t. I’m- I am working on the comeback, right?”
“Honey, I think you’re confused.” She frowned. “I thought you didn’t want to be an idol anymore?”
“I… I don’t want to be one anymore?”
Beomgyu wasn’t sure what to make with this information. There was no way for him to believe nor want to stop being an idol. The black-haired man couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.
He was always meant to be an idol, always meant to be someone who was special to his fans. He wanted to stay as an idol to be with his members and fans, yet here he was, talking to his mother who was now apparently telling him he’s not an idol anymore.
And it reminded him so much of how Yeonjun treated him. It reminded him of the lack of texts, the coldness in Yeonjun’s voice.
Beomgyu looked down at his food. “Mom, am I dreaming? Is this a nightmare?”
To which, he was met with an awkward chuckle. She wasn’t sure what to make of her son’s behavior, shaking her head. “I think you need to eat. After what happened between you and the boys, I’m pretty sure you didn’t want to be an idol anymore.”
“Me and the boys?” Beomgyu found himself looking back at his mother. “Wait, what happened between me and them?”
“Oh dear. Are you still dreaming?” She scratched the back of her head, forcing a small smile. “You guys disbanded.”
What? TXT disbanded?
If Beomgyu was holding onto anything, he certainly would’ve dropped it and caused a mess. He shot up from his seat. He couldn’t care less if his mother eyed him in shock. He quickly took out his phone, pacing back and forth.
He tried to call them. He tried to call Yeonjun, but he wouldn’t answer. He tried to call Soobin and Kai, but it sent him to voicemail. He even tried to call Taehyun, but he refused to answer.
He even tried to call the managers and staff, anyone that he could. Nobody answered him.
In his entire fit of panic, he couldn’t hear his mom. The concerned voice that she held towards his behavior wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t care less if she thought he was going insane, he just couldn’t believe what she was saying was true.
A pang of terror escaped him as he searched the web. He searched his band’s name, but found only numerous articles of their disbandment.
TXT has disbanded. TXT has disbanded. TXT has disbanded.
Beomgyu couldn’t believe it. He quickly scrolled down and down, but instantly realized that it was a mistake.
Yeonjun’s text went over his head till now, and the raven was caught aback in utter shock when an article’s title read the words:
“After Beomgyu caused a rift in the group, TXT disbanded after years of work”
The phone dropped instantly. Beomgyu was frozen, face growing completely white. He was pale as a sheet. He couldn’t comprehend what his mother was doing—most likely calling for his name—but it didn’t matter.
I’m the one who caused them to disband? What did I do? What?
Beomgyu couldn’t believe it. He just couldn’t believe it.
No, he refused to believe it.
He grabbed his phone and ran up the stairs. He muttered a quick apology to his mom who was caught between a mixture of confusion and newfound worry, the man grabbing a coat and sliding on his shoes. He headed out the door, grabbed his wallet, and ran.
He ran and ran and ran until he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t hear his own breaths, couldn’t even make out what he was seeing. The streets of Daegu was so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. It didn’t matter, he couldn’t even see it properly. Couldn’t even manage to take in the sight now.
Besides, his sight was obscured by something wet. Tears? Were they tears?
He blinked such distractions away, and he continued to run. He couldn’t care less if he bumped into somebody or even if someone called out for his name, he needed to get away from here—to refuse what was beginning to become a new reality for him.
There was a crack that he missed, and he fell over. He stumbled down and crashed to the ground. Pain swept over him, and he groaned. His body ached, and his head burned.
Ugh, shit. That fucking hurts.
He threw a hand over his head. His body ached and he was sure he’d gotten a few bruises by now, but it didn’t matter. He stumbled as he forced himself to stand, and he continued to run.
Soon, he found himself heading straight for the bus, and he darted himself right in. He couldn’t even remember what the bus driver looked like nor the amount of cash he spent to get the ticket, but it didn’t matter. He stumbled into a seat, body wobbling and head dizzy. He couldn’t see properly and he was sure his ears were ringing.
Then, everything blacked in on him.
He woke up to the bus driver shaking his body. A groan escaped his lips. Sore, he couldn’t help but whine, especially when he tasted iron in his lips.
Great, he must’ve split his lips. He blinked, trying to adjust to the light, then looking over at the driver who was seemingly the only one inside. He was looking down at Beomgyu as if he’d seen a ghost, and at this point, maybe the raven was a ghost.
“Sorry,” the bus driver began, holding his breath. “You fell asleep. Are you okay…?”
Fell asleep? More like I fainted or something. Shit, my head.
He forced back the urge to groan. If anything, he felt like he was going to throw up. “Where are we?”
“Back in Daegu.” The bus driver sighed. “You fell asleep throughout the whole ride… Didn’t want to leave you somewhere randomly too.”
Shit. That was a waste of time.
Beomgyu nodded. He felt like he had wounds all over himself. It hurt so much just to sit up straight. “Right, um. Alright… Thanks. Um… Okay. By any chance, can you take me to Seoul?”
“Seoul?” The driver frowned. “I’m sorry, sir, but are you sure? My break’s about to end, but I’m worried you need medical attention. You look stressed.”
“No, no, I’m fine.” Beomgyu forced a small smile. “I need to do something.”
The bus driver wasn’t convinced, but nodded. It seemed enough to shoo the other away, especially now that his break was going to end. This allowed Beomgyu to sigh as he slumped into his seat, frowning when he took out his phone and saw more than a couple of missed phone calls from his mom.
Ah, shit.
He quickly sent a text to apologize to his mom, then looked back at his contacts list. Most of the messages and calls he received were from his mom, but it looked like Yeonjun tried to call back.
Quickly, he tried again.
One, two… Quite a couple of rings needed to be heard, but after the seventh, he heard a click.
“Hello?” Beomgyu sounded louder than he expected—the driver turned to eye him curiously. “Can you hear me?”
“… Yes.” Yeonjun’s voice was almost as cold as how his messages were. Beomgyu would’ve paled if it weren’t for the slight tinge of confusion over the line. “Why did you call me?”
“Hyung, I’m really confused and scared right now,” Beomgyu began, forcing a laugh. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, if he even realized how strange the elder sounded. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare. Are you in Seoul with the others?”
“… Beomgyu, what are you saying?” Yeonjun’s breath hitched. “I really think you should calm down and remember what happened. You do know you’re the one who caused everything, right?”
“H-Hyung, I don’t even understand.” Beomgyu gripped the phone tighter. “I really don’t know what’s going on.”
“You’re joking, right? You’re the one who basically got us to disband.”
“What?” The man gulped. “I- What did I even do?”
“How do you not know? Are you here to just mess around?” Yeonjun’s voice was higher now, louder. “You- After what you’ve done to Soobin, you’re just playing it like you’re innocent now? You’re- Why are you doing this to me? Just because I didn’t block you?”
“Yeonjunnie-”
“Don’t call me that!” he snapped, though instantly gasped afterwards. “I-I’m so sorry, it’s just- Please, why are you doing this? Do you hate me that much? I didn’t- I still care about you, but you were hurting Soobin and the rest. This is all your fault.”
“Hyung…”
“Please.” His voice shook. “If you’re just trying to make fun of me, I won’t have it. Please don’t call me again if you’re just going to laugh at me. Goodbye, Beomgyu.”
The phone call ended.
Beomgyu was silent. He felt it—the uncomfortable tension of silence ringing in the air. The bus driver who was side eyeing him nervously, then the people outside who were eyeing him from the window.
“I… I need to leave.”
Beomgyu stood up. He wobbled, then fell.
The bus driver called out to him, but he couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything nor could he feel nor see anything.
Shit, I didn’t even hurt myself that badly. Was my fall that bad?
Yet, he knew. He knew it wasn’t the injuries. The physical wounds and bruises he got wasn’t what was making him queasy, making him want to gag and fall over.
It was the fact that he had been stripped away of those he believed was precious to him.
I can’t… move…
Thud.
Everything was now, strictly, a blur.