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Sungmin isn’t new to long days and longer nights in the practice room.
Some of the others aren’t either. Hiroto holds up the best, never complaining even when the others do— tight-lipped with his eyes glued to the mirror. Takuto gets tired often, lying in the corner every once in a while or getting caught up in conversation until Sungmin has to reel him back to practice. But Sungmin can’t blame him; he’s just a kid.
Sitting in his bed between Ricky and Jingxiang feels like a punishment. The air is still thick and nobody wants to talk about it. Ricky pretends to sleep while Jingxiang curls up to scribble furiously in the journal they’re forced to keep. Sungmin gets up and leaves the room as quietly as he can.
As he slips on his shoes, he thinks about where he can go instead. The neighboring room, with Takuto and Hiroto? No, Sungmin wants escape. Sungmin drifts through the hallway. He can hear Woonggi’s laugh somewhere further down, sharp and loud. Sungmin turns away from it.
He glimpses at the signs by the doors, walking slowly until one catches his eye.
When Sungmin peers into the room, it’s almost dark except for one lamp still turned on. Yedam is snoring softly on the middle bed, the one next to the bathroom unmade but empty.
Kamden looks up when Sungmin opens their door a little wider, tucked into his bed at the other end of the room. Sungmin can see the shape of his shadow cut out from the blinding hallway lights. Kamden looks at him and raises his eyebrow just slightly in question. Aren’t you coming in?
Sungmin closes the door behind him. Yedam shifts in his sleep as Sungmin walks over to Kamden’s bed. All the beds are the same, but Sungmin finds it easier to sink down into Kamden’s mattress than his own— it seems to give away, bending under his weight. The air is lighter, too, unburdened.
Kamden closes the book he’s reading, slotting it back on the shelf behind him, before turning to Sungmin again. They stare at each other for a moment under the unforgiving light of the dorm lamps. Mild curiosity is the best way to describe how Kamden is looking at him. He doesn’t rush to ask Sungmin what the problem is, why he’s showing up here out of all the places he could be— he doesn’t even seem like he intends to ask. But maybe that’s why Sungmin is here.
“Where’s Zihao?” It’s the only thing he can think of to break the silence.
Kamden shrugs. “Don’t know.”
Sungmin glances down at the shadows in the rumpled sheets. People come and go in the dorms. In the back of his mind, Sungmin catalogs where everyone is, and what they could be doing at this very moment. With any luck, both his roommates will be asleep. Woonggi might still be awake somewhere, snuggled up to some other trainees, giggling. All the other trainees are just kids when they're all younger than Sungmin, younger than Woonggi. Kamden is one of the few people who is actually Sungmin's age; that might also be why he's here.
“Did you want something from me?” Kamden asks quietly.
Sungmin swallows and shakes his head. “I just didn’t want to be in my room.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not quite the full truth. Sungmin knows what he doesn’t want. He doesn’t really want to find out what he wants.
Kamden watches him. Sungmin has seen that look on his face, staring into the unreachable middle distance, mind drifting off somewhere else. He’s looking at you but not quite seeing you. Kamden always seems like he’s in the middle of movement— between leaving something behind and searching for something new. Sungmin kind of liked that about him. Moments with Kamden are just that; filmy moments in time, fleeting and gone. The two of them sitting here on his bed right before lights out is one of those moments, one that’ll leave Sungmin wondering whether it was a dream.
His arm is within reach. His hand is within reach. If Sungmin reached for it, Kamden wouldn’t deny him that. Despite the primal part of him that craves that human touch, Sungmin can’t bring himself to hold Kamden’s hand— not when it could mean something. Casual skinship stops at the wrist; interlocked fingers and thumbs over the backs of hands cross that line.
Yedam shifts in his sleep, sheets moving next to them. Sungmin closes his eyes. He just wants to treasure this a little longer. No fight to break up, no kids to look after, and nothing but silence. His body aches, old pains and new ones alike. He's exhausted. The past year has taken everything out of him and getting eliminated as he expects to be next round might actually be a relief, some reprieve for his tired body.
If Kamden was sitting side by side with him, Sungmin might find himself leaning on his shoulder, or putting a hand on his knee. But here in his bed, it feels too intimate. There’s one person Sungmin knows he can sneak his way into bed with and with his eyes closed, he can pretend this is a different bed and a different place and a different time. He can pretend he's home, even though home doesn't exist anymore.
When Sungmin opens his eyes, Kamden is still looking at him. Not like he understands, because he never could, but waiting. Sungmin can feel the story in himself waiting to spill out— all his rage and grief and ache— but he can’t let it go. Other trainees have stories, ones they’ve been sharing in practice rooms and over dinners; Sungmin’s sure that even Kamden has one. But there are things Sungmin can never talk about, monsters that he can never let out into the world.
“Goodnight.” Sungmin stands. These are stories that Sungmin has to carry with him, pack away in his suitcase, and take away with him out of planet camp. These are things he will have to carry.
Kamden blinks, taken aback. “Goodnight?”
“See you in the practice room tomorrow,” Sungmin nods.
Kamden stares at him, holding his gaze for another moment, before nodding. He lets him go.
Sungmin walks out of Kamden’s room, back into the blinding lights of the dorm hallways.
As he’d predicted, both of his roommates are thankfully asleep. When Sungmin falls asleep, he dreams.
He’s in the practice room again and Rush Hour is playing— he can recite the song backward at this rate. When he turns, Kamden is in front of him, staring at him intently. This is different from the look he gave Sungmin in his room. This is more focused. He’s seeing Sungmin now and this imaginary Kamden, the one in his head, knows everything.
Escape. Sungmin turns again, reaching for the door. When he opens the door, he’s in a dressing room that he has only been in once— and a familiar face is waiting for him.
“Sungmin?” Jeyou raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” He’s wearing a shiny green letterman jacket and white jeans; Sungmin knows what day this is. Jeyou sets his phone down. “You look pale.”
Sungmin swallows. He smiles. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?” Jeyou takes a step toward him. His unstyled black hair falls into his eyes.
Sungmin can’t help it; he reaches out and tucks Jeyou’s hair out of his face. “I’m just nervous about this performance.” Nervous for the impending doom, nervous for Rush Hour. If he could talk to Jeyou properly, if he could let go of the burden of being the leader, he would.
“We’ve done it a million times, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” Jeyou laughs. Sungmin feels a flash of jealousy at Jeyou being able to laugh, but he has no way of knowing what’s about to come.
Sungmin reaches for Jeyou’s hand, their fingers falling into their intertwined places. “I’m just happy to be here with you.” He squeezes Jeyou’s hand, a bit tighter than he usually does, for his own selfish reasons. He always reached out to hold Jeyou’s hand but in hindsight, it didn’t seem like he did it enough. They thought they had time back then, that they’ll be stuck together for the rest of their lives, and that the world was theirs.
Jeyou looks puzzled, not at the gesture but at Sungmin’s words. “In Chicago?” His thumb brushes over the knuckle of Sungmin’s thumb, an action tender and subconscious. He smiles a secret smile like they're talking about an inside joke. This is the home Sungmin should be at, where he belonged.
Sungmin smiles back at him, hoping that the tears won’t come. “Sure.”
When Sungmin wakes up, it’s to Jingxiang’s alarm clock, set half an hour before everyone is actually supposed to get up. Ricky groans loudly, sitting up and muttering something in Chinese under his breath. Jingxiang snorts and gets up.
Sungmin sighs.