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A flower fell from grace a long time ago, yet still found itself trying to find its rightful place in righteous soil. Scrounging for forgiveness when it gave up on repentance a long time ago.
Taerae washed his hands whenever they finished practice, whenever they finished a stage, whenever he could. It felt right, it felt clean, dirt disappearing from his skin that was meant to be pristine.
He’d accidentally touched the floor more than he meant to today. Taerae could almost feel the grime settling into his fingertips and travelling across his hand as bacteria housed themselves in small cracks and grooves. He couldn’t get to a sink, not fast enough, he was stuck between members and staff and time. He refused to touch anyone and anything, he could only wipe his hands on his shirt and hope for the best. In a small amount of time he would be able to make it to the bathroom.
Water was cleansing, pure, simple, not sweet nor sour. Heat scraped him clean, soap excavating the crimes on his skin and falling through the pipes that would send it to where it belonged. Taerae breathed, wiping his hands on a towel and looking back in the mirror. Fog touched the bottom end of the mirror but had only crawled a few centimetres up.
The floral scent of the soap floated around the room, subtle and clean. He made sure to open the door handle with his elbow, there was no telling who actually washed their hands.
“Taerae-ssi!” Junhyeon called.
His voice always sounded like an angel’s trumpet calling its great call. It was welcoming and strange but familiar.
“Junhyeon-ah! Where have you been?”
His smiles were never sheepish, always bold and bright or down-to-earth or silently shy.
“I was with Gunwook-ssi, he was helping me with the- this part.”
Junhyeon’s arms fell into place like they belonged there. They’d usually slip out of his nature, out of control and fall solemnly onto the floor. But now they looked, felt, right.
“Wait, you look so good now.”
His smile was bold, bright, shining, with a twinge of shyness only seen twinkling in his eyes.
“Do you want me to teach you? Gunwook-ssi had some really good tips.”
Taerae nodded like a sheep to his shepherd. But there was no God standing in front of him, no angel holding his hand out with power to help. He was just another sheep, a friendly fleece’s comfort among the saviours displaying their collection of people they’ve saved.
Hao and his sweet voice. Enchanting in a way that Taerae could never capture. Strong, enticing, stable, all the words that Taerae couldn’t find yet he knew were in a box somewhere.
His own voice was said to sing the call of angels, but Hao held the power of a thousand people wishing for their salvation. It held willpower that Taerae had struggled to grasp for his entire life.
One sleeve up, one sleeve down, hair clips once existent now discarded as the cameras captured his fairy-like smile. All human protests against the will of puppeteers that allowed him to shunt the distorted disturbing scowls they wished to paint on him. He existed within his own box that a perfect God could do nothing against as he did nothing wrong.
Ricky and his soothing voice. Like honey, like strawberries, his own flavour that Taerae wished he could develop. Soft, sultry yet still sweet, like rich melted chocolate perfecting confectionery and desserts.
His own voice emulated the wills of his childhood, but Ricky’s emulated his own childhood wish. Taerae prayed upon his knees and sang to the heavens where Ricky wished upon a shooting star to become the gold lining to rainy clouds.
Camera stares, palm pinching, signs of anxiety now shunned in favour of teasing words. He was slotted as perfectly as he could be into the box that fate set for him, but he turned the box into his own and rode it onto his shooting star.
Taerae couldn’t wish to sing in his own voice because this now was his voice, he could only pray that he would lose the Holy Spirit that constantly played with his heart.
False idols, Satan’s temptations and sins.
The first and second commandments gripped onto his heart, words echoing in his whole body. God made sure of it, and he was happy for it. Taerae sang sweet songs in the Lord’s name, not vain, not cursed but spreading the blessings of the gospel. His sins had to be washed away, maybe this would help him repent enough. Hymns and communion and all.
Water had paved the way for him as a baby to be able to be clean for the rest of his life, water washed away the dirt on his skin and water drowned the false deities that Satan tried to tempt him with.
He wished water could cleanse his brain. Men held reign over his thoughts, inappropriate thoughts cursed him everyday. Like false idols, praised by his wicked brain. Begging prayers on his knees weren’t enough to wash the thoughts away. Countless nights wasted away at searching the Bible for an answer and countless days confessing his sins to the pastor that held too much sympathy for a sinner like him.
Taerae deserved to go to Hell, to burn without a family or a wife. He deserved to suffer as he constantly thought about boys in his school and male actors on the big screen and he deserved to suffer as sin plagued him. God couldn’t save him because he didn’t deserve it.
He washed his hands again, it was the only thing that he could keep clean.
Junhyeon came running to him, widely smiling and small laughs escaping his throat.
“I figured it out, you’re like a duck. But not Mofy Duck. Like a duck duck. You know what I mean?”
Taerae burst into laughter. He knew exactly what Junhyeon was talking about because he always knew, he’d managed to grasp his brain into patterns that he didn’t need to ask about anymore,
“Yeah, but I still don’t know. Aren’t I more like a dog or a shark?”
Taerae looked at Junhyeon with feigned innocence, fluttering his eyelids and bringing his hand to his chest.
“No way. I mean I see it but you’ll always be a duck to me.”
That’s what settled it. Taerae would be a duck if Junhyeon said he was, because he was a blind follower in his faith and right now the man standing in front of him was his deity.
“Would you kiss a duck?”
Junhyeon nodded, puppy eyes staring straight at him from above. Taerae hovered his hands on either side of the other boy’s face, hesitating, pausing as thoughts began to pull him underground. Blasphemous, but God could determine his fate later. What happened in the next few seconds was for a duck and a dog to know alone.
Taerae always found river flowers beautiful. They were so casual in their elegance, holding galaxies in every inch of their petals. Different colours bled into the water, petals floating and still. Small stars decorated them from the inside out, fireflies and frogs sweetening the sight.
He walked along the water, flowers of the same petals flocking together and leaving gaps of clear glass water allowing him to peer at the tiny fish swimming in their schools. Lily pads followed them wherever they went, drawn to their alluring beauty and setting the scene for serenity.
A duck swam by, cutting through the plants and scattering the fish. It waded and pushed apart families of flora in its search for its own enlightenment. Yet the flowers were stuck to their spots by their stems that dug deep into the seabed. And the pain of splitting faded as lily pads and fireflies congregated in new bundles that shone in new formation.
Taerae threw a broken piece of bread to the lonesome duck. New ripples erupted as another disruption formed in the painting of the river. But families always reformed, new pictures were created as new lily pads created stunning backdrops for flowers to cast their light upon. And the duck wouldn’t be punished for receiving a small gift as time continued on.
“Ricky-ah wanted to do this, too!”
Taerae had found solace in Ricky’s casual and consistent humour, poking at other people and occasionally himself. It was always clever, fast-paced, words slicing into the silence like a knife through butter.
Ricky was persistent, he never backed down from a challenge and often doubled down on things he cared about. Like teasing Gyuvin, or babying Yujin, or the thing they were doing right now. He was head steady, but he was still delicate, breakable but always managing to put himself back together.
Taerae revelled in the laughs from the members around him. He and Ricky were the shining lights in this moment, like a rotating disco ball reflecting around the whole room. Worshipped, the centre of the party. But that was all temporary as he slotted back to where he belonged, making sure his hands didn’t touch the floor as he sat back down.
He asked his neighbour if he could pick a flower from their front yard and take it with him to school.
“Oh, for a girl?”
“Something like that.”
“Go for it, and good luck,” she said, giving him a thumbs up with a cheeky smirk on her face.
He offered a small smile in return, grateful for her support despite her not knowing what it was for.
Taerae took a yellow rose, carefully picking it off of their vines. He walked to school, hands shaking with racing thoughts. Roaring cars, constantly blowing wind, threatening to knock the flower onto the floor to let it be trampled on.
Breathe in, breathe out. He knew no terrifying words would be flung at him on this day, yet dread still slowly tore him down. Fire wouldn’t burn, light would guide him, paving the way to safety. He would be safe, he had to constantly tell that to himself.
Taerae reached the gates to his school. He immediately spotted the person he was looking for, eyes locked onto the same book he’d been reading over again for the past week.
“Yah,” he spoke softly as he slotted next to him.
He held out the flower, light captured in its glass-like petals. The other boy took it, hesitant but grateful.
“Thank you.”
Silence fell between the two, they wouldn’t talk about what happened to the other boy. He wouldn’t say anything, and Taerae would respect the quiet that sat at their feet. It wasn’t dominating, it wasn’t heavy, it was sweet. If they needed to talk, they would talk, it would happen in time.
For now, God would sit in the air with the only tinge of happiness He’s ever felt for Taerae. The only semblance of comfort he could offer to Him and it wasn’t even for Him. A human service, not one for Heaven. It wouldn’t weigh during his judgement day, but that was okay.
His worries about his sins could be cast aside for these small, pleasant moments.
Junhyeon fell in love with a duck.
Taerae fell in love with an angel in dog’s clothing. An angel who expertly tread the line between jokes and care. Words constantly fell out of his mouth and hung as a joke in the air, dancing heavily. But he’d also step into compassion, slipping into comfortable silences or loud love whenever it felt right.
Junhyeon always felt right.
“Taerae-ssi, don’t worry, you’re going to make it. You went viral multiple times because you’re just so good. You should’ve heard yourself in Man in Love, there’s no way people are going to ignore that.”
Taerae wiped his eyes with his sleeve, not letting tears fall onto his hands. An understanding silence fell between the two. Junhyeon treated his worries and Gunwook’s very differently. With Gunwook, he was boisterous, more joking and loud in his love. Every word he said held genuine love despite his volume and his tone because he was just sweet.
With Taerae, he was quieter, more gentle. Still loud, but more careful because he knew Taerae was delicate. Like a flower , Junhyeon would say. You’re like a flower that I want to protect . He opened his arms, allowing Taerae to choose to be comforted because sometimes he needed to be alone. Today was not a day he needed to be alone.
Junhyeon’s hugs were comforting, filling his cracks with a buzzing light. But he wasn’t shouting his achievement to the world, he was here and grounding. Tears slipped onto his shirt, his arms tightened around his waist. Taerae couldn’t see the other boy’s eyes closing, but he could feel arms tightening around his shoulders, warmth seeping into his cold and solemn body.
A soft shake, different to his excited shaking with Gunwook, different to his parental shaking with Takuto. It was for him, tailored to his tears. He didn’t have to change to be saved, he didn’t even have to be saved. Junhyeon wasn’t an angel to guide him into the light, he was an angel here to guide him with the light and guide him to where he wanted to be.
He wasn’t even sure if Junhyeon was an angel, would that be a disgrace to him? Or to Him? He more fit a dog, the clothing he wore with pride. Maybe it wasn’t clothing, but exactly who he was.
“What’s with you and your stories?”
Everyone laughed, Matthew’s laughs escaped through each word he tried to say.
“No okay, so imagine this.”
Taerae genuinely loved his stories, but he was going to complain about it anyways. Because it was funny.
“Matthew!”
He was incredulous, but still smiling at Matthew’s adorable patterns. He was predictable in his unpredictability, where intuition said when he was going to do something out of the blue but couldn’t guess exactly what he was going to do.
Sometimes it kicked in, like predictive text, Taerae could guess what he was going to say. On camera Matthew would say one thing whereas off camera he’d say another, with a few extra swears thrown into the void. But not now, he could never be prepared for what he did now.
Laughs erupted from his throat and dissipated into the chorus of the room. Assimilating, slotting in perfectly in the background of Matthew’s story.
Store bought angels, packaged and ready for any blessings you want. Small and convenient, here for you and for everyone as long as you were good.
Taerae wished he were good, he knew he didn’t have to be perfect but he wanted to be good. He prayed for his sins and he prayed for his divinity. Flaws always split him apart despite his constant repentance and his constant confessions. Darkness poked at the light he was supposed to shine and share.
“Thank you, Lord, for your presence with us on this day.”
Taerae squeezed his hands together, tighter.
“As we depart from this space now, we ask you to bless us throughout the remainder of the day and guide us safely home.”
Store bought angels pathetically filled his heart with meaningless joy, pitiful attempts at lighting up his life.
“May our week be filled with blessings and love and that we will be able to listen to your guiding voice.”
Unclean heart, soiled brain, voices that forcefully drowned the Holy Spirit in him.
“May we serve and avoid Satan’s temptations.”
May we serve and finally deserve the blessings of true angels.
“Amen.”
He immediately went to the bathroom, hands feeling like tin from the coins he gave up at tithing. He wished he could have one final payment for his sins over this eternal clawing at his life.
Taerae lost the people he’d spent his time with for the past couple of years. Lost to eliminations, in both a TV show and forever. He engulfed those he lost in episodes, and engulfed them again as they were let go from the company, in gentle terms.
Pain and grief resurfaced, faces he loved seeing in the corridors now gone for fate to decide. A dice roll, for all of them, if they would be fished from the ocean or if they would sink to the bottom to be forgotten. The sun would set, stars would shine, but some of the stars who earned their place still wouldn’t sparkle as they deserved.
Taerae cusped the petals handed to him, remembrance tokens from the flowers still trying to remain afloat. He could only offer small words in return, but those words were heavy. Dense, holding the weight of a thousand grieving souls crying from the heavens and crying from the hells in a few simple words.
Goodbye.
Maybe God had a plan for them all. A plan that He had set out, a plan that killed all of them internally, a plan of rebirth and revitalisation. Maybe this was all His plan. Or maybe He just didn’t care enough.
Taerae cared a lot. He thought he cared too much with the stones of paralysis and silence dragging him down from the inside. He held his hands together, he prayed for the first time in a long while. He didn’t pray for his repentance, he refused to pray for himself. His knees pulsed, red, burning, hours of longing and prayer and begging.
Taerae had been humble but he needed to be humiliated more. Humiliated for the undeserving blessing he received and humiliated for the flowers that deserved to spread their petals. Because they’d been humble, too humble, sinking too far for who they were.
Taerae handed a small duck sticker to Junhyeon on the day he lost his third labelmate. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it would cheer him up a little.
He expected him to stick it on his forehead, or hand it back to him, but Junhyeon just pocketed it for a later date. A promise for the future. Now was for mourning, now was for the goodbyes to their own labelmates.
After their own solemn silences, Junhyeon left the heavy room in search of Gunwook. They mourned in silence, an understanding between the two. But Taerae liked to be left alone after a small amount of time, and Junhyeon needed to be loud after that period as well. Taerae would scream, at a wall, at people who’d understand. Junhyeon would cheer up others, the light evaporating the tears from their faces.
After a few days passed, Junhyeon told Taerae that he’d stick it in his phone case.
“And I can add your name into it!”
“How are you going to add my name?”
“Ay, are you questioning my methods? I can figure out a way.”
Taerae laughed.
“On the bottom, I’m thinking. Right in the centre of my phone.”
He lightly pinched Taerae’s hair that was bouncing around as he shook in laughter.
“Duck in the centre. Centre of Bepler, centre of people’s attention, centre of my phone. All equal achievements.”
A centre that Taerae barely believed he deserved. A centre that Junhyeon would always exclaim to everyone around him because he believed. He always believed. Faithful, loyal, full of true light.
Taerae held the symbol of his fans in his hands. White and blue roses, each one representing the possible thousands of people who thought he was pure and sweet.
He wondered if he deserved this, if he was supposed to be the one holding the beautiful and serene petals of the faces he’d eventually meet. If others who were better, smarter, kinder, deserved it more. He didn’t think he deserved to root in Zerobaseone as those more experienced got pulled out like they were weeds.
Taerae couldn’t forgive himself for taking up a slot in the garden bed. But others didn't even blame him in the first place. There was no forgiveness to be handed out.
He never repented for his sins, he never repented to the Lord. So the blessings that sat in his hand didn’t feel right, like he was dirtying their stems and their pristine petals. But others continued to praise him, showering him with unique petals.
He showed his fall, but that didn’t matter to them. He was forgiven by them, by those who held the roses and the roses that weighed in their palms. Taerae didn’t need to repent, the Lord could fall alongside him and he wouldn’t care. Not anymore. But the forgiveness still felt nice, it was the most he’s felt okay with himself.
He may have descended from grace, but maybe that was the true blessing.
He couldn’t have moisturiser on his hands. After he slathered it on, he had to wash it off.
Taerae cleansed his face, cleared it of the bacteria that wished to settle in his pores. And then he scrubbed at his hands, the feeling of oil and moisturiser uncomfortable coating his skin. The products felt heavy, unclean, soiling on his hands. They lifted his eyes but cursed his hands with grime and impropriety.
“Taerae-hyung, why do you wash your hands so much?” Gunwook asked.
He could only shrug in response. He couldn’t figure out how to word his answer, he could barely even pinpoint why he did it in the first place let alone why he continues to.
“Just feels dirty.”
Gunwook raised an eyebrow, not judgemental, just curious.
“Dirty, how?”
Taerae continued to run his hands under the warm water. His eyes wandered across the ceiling, as if the white grooves would send down an answer through the sickly coloured LED above them.
“Whenever I touch something, it’s almost like I can feel a layer of film on my hands. I know there isn’t one, but it still feels annoying. That’s also why I like sanitizer so much, it’s easier than finding a bathroom.”
Gunwook nodded, understanding. He always understood. He didn’t have to fully realise the implications, he didn’t have to poke at it like a doubtful pessimist. He just took it knowing that other people would always see things differently.
“Maybe I should wash my hands more,” he joked.
Taerae loved laughing.
Taerae prayed the rosary everyday. He honoured it, speaking it with full and begging heart. He needed to be closer to God to earn his salvation and to rid him of his sinful mind. His fingers slid over the beads perfectly, the feeling of wood perfectly ingrained in his muscles. Words formed on his tongue expertly, no pauses nor flaws, a symbol of what he had to achieve.
Light hid on the other side of his eyelids, his bedroom light pulsating as his heart thrummed. Buzzes underlied the quiet of his room. Whether it was from mosquitos or from the electricity he didn’t know and didn’t care.
His knees dug into the carpet below him. Some days he’d get carpet burn from sliding across the carpet, too desperate for his skin to handle. Other days he’d bruise, falling incorrectly onto the floor as he rushed into what he hoped was his saving day.
He prayed that warmth would enter him, he prayed that warmth would guide him, he prayed that he deserved warmth. But as he finished his prayers, no feeling of ecstasy gave him strength. Nothing. It was silent in feeling, no honey in his heart nor fire in his fingertips. Just the eternal feeling of nothing.
Taerae washed his hands as his failures set onto his hands once again. He couldn’t do anything right. If he wasn’t such a sinner, he would receive the comfort and joy that comes with being righteous. He repented but he wasn’t forgiven because he didn’t deserve it yet.
The mirror fogged up with the steam from the tap’s boiling water. Taerae refused to wipe the mirror to see his tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.
He slumped into the couch, keeping the Lord’s distance away from Matthew.
Seok Matthew with barely any filter, Kim Taerae with slightly more filter than him. His company was comfortable, evolving, changing. The words they exchanged were always questionable, some may hear them and call them enemies. But they were both flowers bunching together in the pond, close, always close.
Matthew naturally shifted over to Taerae, throwing his body onto his lap as he laughed and talked and gestured and told his sweet stories. What God would call immoral, Taerae would call hilarious.
Swears fell out of Matthew’s mouth like they’ve always belonged in his vocabulary. Tales of sins, casual, underwhelming in their weight but perfect in their humour. All of those words were Taerae’s shame, his failures in life. Despite his disownership of his faith, he couldn’t speak without the Lord tugging at his tongue. Too vulnerable, too sinful, words of shame would be thrown at him.
With Matthew it was a little easier. Easier to mimic his tone, his comfort, his lack of filter. He could tell the story of his first love, his first heartbreak, his sins and his downfalls. Pain tried to claw at his heart, but it was swiped away by a fox’s paw. Still stinging, but more healed, wounds staying closed, no longer reopening under the stalking hands of the Lord.
“Fuck the light,” Taerae laughed.
Junhyeon texted Taerae a lot. He texted him his random thoughts, his selfies, his issues and his goals.
Taerae once joked that he’d rename Junhyeon to TIOT Junhyeon when he accidentally revealed the group name to him. In turn, he retorted with the name Zero Kim Taerae sunbaenim .
Taerae asked about the other stickers in Junhyeon’s phone, still looking gleefully at the duck sticker in the bottom at the centre like he said he’d do. The dog with sunglasses was Gunwook, obviously, with his incredibly cool demeanour . The other stickers were for his labelmates, sweet, cute, silly.
After Taerae and Junhyeon’s schedules both freed up a bit, the two met up.
Taerae watched the minutes count down on his phone as he waited, before hearing the familiar panting of a dog who just sprinted. He looked up, Junhyeon was carrying a few lilies in one hand and a capo in the other.
“When did you buy the capo for me? Didn’t I tell you this morning that I broke it?”
“Yep! So I bought it as soon as I left.”
His toothy, gummy, absolutely adorable smile led to Taerae growing a shy smile on his face.
“Why lilies?”
Taerae placed the capo in his bag before carefully taking the lilies. Delicate, shining, petals reflecting the sunlight. His other hand slid perfectly into the taller boy’s, long calloused fingers meeting clean and supple hands.
“Like, rebirth, and beauty, if I remember correctly.”
Taerae tilted his head, he didn’t know what rebirth meant for him. He wouldn’t die and come back like Jesus did, he wasn’t any saviour.
“Because you’re Zerobaseone Kim Taerae now. You’re a new Kim Taerae. Not new, you’re still you. But like, you’ve found your place. This is where you belong, and eventually you’ll find another place where you belong and another. But right now, you are a part of Zerobaseone.”
He still wasn’t sure what that had to do with being reborn. Resurrection had always been such a dense and important thing to him.
“Like, you were once a trainee that received no screen time and had a very pretty smile,” Junhyeon continued. “Now you’re debuted and you’re now seen as more jokey. Like you’re way funnier than the screen showed. No one could have guessed you were so dramatic in the way that you are.”
Taerae smiled, “Oh yeah, even though I was part of the gyaruz. ”
“Yeah, but not like that genre of dramatic. You seemed more quiet dramatic on the show but you’re actually like chilli. Hot and ready to spit at people.”
He laughed, chilli was definitely a way to describe him. Taerae wondered how Junhyeon could so drastically yet naturally turn a sweet gesture into a joke, but it never felt bad. It felt nice, things didn’t always have to be so heavy despite the weight to their words and to their actions.
They walked along the river, pointing out the animals that waded between flowery scenery and rocky temples. Splitting and reforming, splitting and reforming, as it always did.
“I’m glad I got to see you again, even though now you’re preparing for your debut.”
Junhyeon shrugged and tugged Taerae closer. No more room for the Lord to dance between them, no more room for the Lord to stab him through the heart. A small kiss was planted on his hair, and Taerae looked his puppy dog dead in the eye. There was light, he was the light. Not a false idol, no deity nor angel, just a person staring back at him like he was the whole world.
“Only on my hair?”
Junhyeon laughed before leaning down to his face. A soft, clean, saccharine kiss. Tender, but still laden with desire.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”