Work Text:
In love's embrace, our hearts find their home.
└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘
For as long as he had known, Doyoung was a sick child. He was abnormally frail and far less playful at his daycare. He would sit quietly on his porch, watching the other kids in his village run up and down long stretches of green grass, playing soccer and various games. He slept soundlessly for hours and never woke his Mother up, even as a newborn. He wouldn't even let out a soft cry when he was conceived. His parents had joked it was a miracle, or maybe he had always been a quiet, shy kid.
But soon, things got worse. Much worse.
It started small, a slight fall here, a cough that shook the whole house the next. Doyoung soon was bedridden and was forced to watch his childhood slip between his fingers.
Out of his many siblings, he was forgotten. Many villagers had forgotten Doyoung even existed because of how little he had left the house. But soon, his existence was very well known due to his Mother's constant worry. She constantly asked around for help after a long while of Doyoung's condition.
Soon, the town's priest, many spiritualists, and even a few doctors visited him. None of them could find out what was so wrong. Despite being weak, Doyoung was completely fine. But by now, he was the talk of the town.
Although he slept most of the day, many of his schoolmates, sibling's friends, and teachers populated his room, spending time with him and entertaining him, although it would never last very long, as Doyoung got tired quickly. But Doyoung himself was very hyper as a child. His laugh bounced off the walls of his room, high-pitched and cheery. His cheeks were always round with laughter. When he was awake, he was always smiling.
He was deemed a "Paper Doll" by his older siblings because usually, it took a lot of convincing to keep Doyoung in his bed. Because he slept so suddenly, he usually fell right on the spot into an hour-long slumber. This worried his parents sick, forcing Doyoung to always stay in bed, and his siblings were responsible for him that way. Doyung could not protest, as sleeping made him lose his memory and lengthen his temper significantly.
But as Doyoung grew, the moodier and more depressed he became. His sleeping and drowsiness lessened, but he was still bedridden. His skin had turned pale despite his siblings and parents being much more tan. His eyes were always sullen, and he always looked tired. His curtains were always drawn to shun out all the light to allow him to sleep. His Mother worried about him, which only fueled his depression. Soon, Doyoung did not speak as much. That is when his parents got a call from an old lady from Busan, claiming she had the cure to their troubles.
Desperate, they agreed for her to meet Doyoung the following week.
When the elderly lady settled down into a small wooden stool propped before Doyoung, she did not do much. It was silent in the room, and the woman refused to let anyone inside. But when the woman came out, a happy Doyoung trailed behind her, wide awake with skin tanned a healthy light brown. Everyone was shocked but overwhelmingly happy, and when the parents tried to thank the woman, she was nowhere to be found. Many rumored her to be an angel, while others mocked her as a witch.
Either way, a few months passed. Doyung was active, still weak and small, but went outside much more often. He spent most of his day near the seaside, watching the waves crash onto the shore against the dusk of the sky, stars twinkling against the black canvas. His hair always smelled of sea salt because of his new hangout spot, and he was finally considered normal.
His happiness only lasted a short while, as do most things. Sickness is unrelenting. In the fifth month of Doyoung's recovery, he suddenly went blind. His eyes, formerly a light brown hue, crystalized to a pure frosty white color. And just like that, Doyoung was without eyes for the rest of his life.
Because of these sudden things, he was finally outcasted. Many called him cursed and a mistake. His Mother's worrying turned more into annoyance. His sickness was always, "What Now?". When he reached twenty, he quickly left his hometown and traveled far away from his family, moving to the city. During his time in the urbanized area, his blindness lessened to mostly being blurry with white scarring, but he was still considered legally blind.
Things have yet to work out for some people. They are born suffering and will die suffering. And unlike what most thought of his, for Doyoung, this would be different.
❀*̥˚
It was chilly; gentle rain drizzled from the overcast sky and collected itself on top of Doyoung's umbrella, now folded neatly in a tall pail. Doyoung stood amid his new home, quietly guiding the moving team into his living room. Soon enough, the last person carried his tightly packed boxes into the house, and the scent of fresh paint hung in the air, tickling Doyoung's nose. He dismissed the workers with a nod, quickly shutting his door. He wipes his hands on his cream sweater habitually, cursing slightly when he realizes the paint it left on the fabric. Hopefully, he would find out where the closest laundry matt was soon.
Doyoung walks into his living room. After a while of silence, He exhales the tension tight in his shoulder, scanning the room, leaning his weight against the freshly painted wall. The room was empty save for the tall, freestanding lamp near the broad window. The large pane offered an unobstructed view of the bustling city below. The baseboards were covered in tape speckled with paint, the floor covered in bunched plastic covering that crinkled under Doyoung's loafers.
He heard the plastic crinkle under another person's shoes; he turned, smiling warmly when he sensed his aunt, Ji-Hye, slightly surprised.
"Ah- Welcome, Aunt Ji-hye." He could smell her sweet scent from a mile away, akin to sweet nutmeg and spice. She also smelled of fresh paint because of her habit of painting, which garnered her downtown paint shop with a cafe.
"No need to be so polite, Doyoung." Her voice smiles. Doyoung laughs lightly. "I was just surprised how you got into my house." Although what he could make out was mainly blurry, he could tell the woman wore a teasing smile. "Ah- well, I was just chatting with the movers, and they invited me inside just as I said I was related to you."
Doyoung didn't know whether to be slightly bothered by that, but his aunt always had a quirk for stealing the hearts of strangers.
"Remind me to pick up my pair of keys." Doyoung shudders at the thought of the lack of security, remembering his encounters at his last house. Ji-Hye pulled a shiny object from her belt that jingled cheerily, letting out a cheeky giggle, "You should be used to my tricks now, Doyoung." Doyoung playfully rolls his eyes. His aunt, although older, never parted from her childish and colorful ways.
"Alright now, I'll be going." She places the keys on the island table, hugging Doyoung tightly in her gentle embrace one last time. He breathes in her scent, closing his eyes.
"Thanks for everything, Auntie." They part, hands still lingering in each other's palms. Doyoung would miss the company of his aunt, although relieved by having his own space away from family. She had always been kind, understanding, and gentle. Her artistic soul had broadened as Doyoung continued to live with her and her husband, even after her divorce.
He watches her figure walk towards the door, lingering before saying, "Oh! Doyoung!" Doyoung perks up.
"I already sent a notice to my friend-- you know her, right? The spiritualist who lives a few doors down? Mrs. Park?" Doyoung nods, "Ah, yes. I remember" The lovely lady had been a frequent guest at the Kim household, regularly bringing variations of mint teas for his aunt to try. She had quite the spirit, being enthusiastic about all things spiritual, claiming the health benefits of her tea. Although Ji-Hye had no passion for spiritual mint tea, she invited the young and eager lady into her house to sit and drink for hours. "She said she's open for whatever you need. If you are not comfortable, my number is always available." Doyoung's heart swells as he nods again, watching her leave his apartment and letting a soft breeze blow through the door.
This was the beginning of a new chapter.
❀*̥˚
A cold, wet splash drenches most of Doyoung's pants immediately, a shrill buzz from a bike's bell hissing past him. He gasps, sucking in the cold air, drying his mouth. Because he had trouble with his vision even now, objects seemingly came out of nowhere. It never got any easier to deal with this. He stands shocked for a few beats, obstructing the sidewalk in his stupor, numerous civilians groaning an excuse me and most thrusting past him roughly. Doyoung had come accustomed to leaving his cane at home. In the trimmer urban cities he had lived in, he had no use for it. He learned each path and each divot in the road.
But with this new environment, Doyoung realized his new experiences had all yet to come. He bites back his frustration, shaking the wet, dirty puddle from his leg, catching up with the bustling crowd when he felt another harsh shove from an object hanging from one's bag. Today, his goal was to make it to work soundly, but his plan felt out of reach almost immediately. Determined, he shook off the tension in his chest, adjusting the cap he wore fastened to his head.
The crowd was like a herd of buffalo, a vague path of mindless animals following each other roughly. When your destination is reached, you split off from the group using only brute force, ignoring the cries and grunts of others. Doyoung had barely managed not to tip over again, carried into the crowd again. As he followed the crowd further down the street, he heard a faint percussion sound. Then, a soft piano and melody followed suit. The music relaxed Doyoung's high-strung nerves, letting his shoulders drop, and his guard fall despite being in the middle of a giant rush of people.
Confused, Doyoung peered around, albeit fruitlessly, considering Doyoung was legally blind, shortly remembering a music concert was happening a few blocks down by a famous artist, and many were determined to at least watch from afar. That would explain the terrible crowd. Because of this distraction, he bumped into someone beside him, their elbow burying itself into Doyoung's side, and he instinctually cried out in pain, bending over. Nobody seemed to hear him beneath the loud chattering echoing in the streets.
Unfortunately, the concert was in the same direction Doyoung was taking to get to his aunt's shop, where he was temporarily working part-time until he found a stable income. After a while, the pushing and shoving became less intense. Doyoung felt the wave of people simmer down into a small walk, so he quickly made his way to the edges of the herd, breaking free. He gasps in the fresh air, relieved, hands drifting towards his side. It stung harshly.
It was definitely bruised.
Not wasting any more time, he tried his best to weave through the thinnest part of the crowd, hearing many protests, ignoring most of them. His heart beat fast in his chest. He crossed the intersection quite quickly, thankful that he learned spatial awareness of others, managing to not bump into anyone. After a long while, he finally found the shop. He had recognized it because of its colorful blast of design, the outside walls being a pretty deep lavender. The design stood out among all of the monotonous buildings beside it. Aunt Ji-Hye had done that specifically for him as well.
He pushed open the door, closing it harshly, exhaling. The air was less stuffy and rainy. It's more homey and spiced, like chamomile tea, exactly like home. He wanders awkwardly, unfamiliar with the spacing of the room, waiting for his Aunt to realize he has arrived. He doesn't stray too far from the doors, carefully shifting his weight onto each foot.
"Aunt Ji-Hye?" Doyoung says after a while. He hears the shuffling of his Aunt's favorite chunky boots and her jewelry clinking against itself in no time. He can feel her smile through the blurry silhouette. "Ah~ Doyoung! Come, come. Sorry, I didn't hear you; I was on the phone." Her soft hands slip into Doyoung's palms, guiding him. Doyoung trusts her, letting her lead the way.
"Thank you everyone! Good night!" Jeongwoo's voice booms through the closed door, the crowd erupting in cheers and whistles that overcast the ending of their encore. Junghwan can imagine the sea of colors and lights through the door before him, his heart panging with annoyance and misery. He coughed, shivering beneath the piles he was swaddled in, curling deeper into the cushions. He hears Jeongwoo's combat boots clanging against the old stairs before the door bursts open wildly.
How can everything Jeongwoo does seem exactly like him? Loud, showy, and- well, childish.
"There's my little brother!" Jeongwoo's voice is hoarse; he coughs because of it, wincing. His outfit is flashy, his tailored suit decorated with golden rhinestones and silvery sequins underneath the dim light of the dressing room. His pants and shoes are dark and shiny, polished so cleanly they shone almost as much as Jeongwoo's suit. A staff member quickly hurried over with a black straw inside bottled water, shoving it into Jeongwoo's open hand. Another group of staff members undressed Jeongwoo into his black shirt and shorts as he stood, smiling down at his sick groupmate.
"How was," Junghwan cleared his throat, rough from not using it in a while, "-the stage?" Jeongwoo's teeth sparkled as well when he smiled. "Amazing. I love going on tour." Junghwan grumbled, upset he had gotten sick on one of the last stops of their tour. Junghwan picked at the messy nail polish stuck to the bits of skin near his blunt nails; Jeongwoo melted into the sofa in front of him.
Haruto walked out from another door leading to the stage, looking exhausted, chest heaving heavily. He crashed into Junghwan, head lolling backward, adams apple bobbling as he swallowed roughly. His hair was wet, turning into shreds of black mess. Junghwan leaned on his shoulder, looking for warmth, "Why are you sweating? You didn't even dance.."
"Agh! Get off of me with your sickness.." Haruto tried to tease, a second from passing out. Slightly concerned, Junghwan slipped his hand from outside his cocoon to help unzip Haruto's constricting jacket. The staff worked quickly on the man's laced shoes. Junghwan whined, "Hyung, I'm so cold. It's too cold." he snuggled deeper into the man's shoulder.
Hyunsuk, the drummer, turned his head from the vanity mirror, eyebrows drawn with concern, pink lips pouted decorated with a piercing. "Junghwan, you're awake? Didn't I tell just you to rest?" Junghwan could hear the scolding from a mile away; he closed his eyes instead of responding.
Hyunsuk went completely mother mode when they got slightly injured. "I did~" Junghwan didn't sound very convincing, mainly because his voice was hoarse and muddled by the fabric swaddled under his chin, so Hyunsuk put the back of his palm on Junghwan's forehead, retracting it quickly as if it was molten hot. "Junghwan! You have a fever!" Hyunsuk flicked him on the forehead; suddenly, Junghwan's headache was very apparent. "Ow! Hyung!" Junghwan pouted, turning his head to face Haruto's shoulder.
"Hyunsuk, cut it out." Jihoon, the guitarist, called from another room, removing his collared and netted shirts. Fortunately, Jihoon was also Hyunsuk's clingy lover, so his words always swayed Hyunsuk's emotions. In this case, it meant peace. Hyunsuk scrunched his eyes with warning at the maknae; Junghwan ignored this, looking over at the second-oldest male who was busy applying lip balm and looking into the vanity mirror.
"I swear, you'll give me grey hair soon enough," Hyunsuk mumbled, dabbing the sweat beaded on Haruto's forehead, the younger leaning into the touch. "Hurry n' get up. We need to get home soon." The youngest members nodded, although reluctantly. After undressing into their casual clothes and sticking around a little while to help clean up their mess, they said their goodbyes, quietly entering their manager's car. It was always like this. There is a comfortable silence after they pour their hearts out on stage. A feeling Junghwan would never trade for everything. Even when sick, the car rides were the best part of being on tour.
As they drove further down the highway, Junghwan positioned his head on Jeongwoo's lap, using it as a bed. Jeongwoo complained but didn't move to stop him, instead carding his fingers through his hair, quietly playing one of his favorite phone games. Junghwan fades in and out, hearing cut-offs of conversations, eventually letting himself slip into the darkness as he feels someone heave his body onto their back, a few other hands stabling him. He sighs deeply, curling into the warmth of his member's sweater.