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31-7391-0107. Heeseung blinks back at the numbers on the dimly-lit, cracked screen. Simply punching in numbers on a dial pad shouldn’t be this bad, but it is when your hands are trembling like those of an alcoholic in withdrawal. He’s been wiping at his cheeks for the past few minutes, but his screen still glitches under his fingers as wetness forms on the screen. Heeseung almost considers throwing his phone face-down onto the sheets, until he realizes the call has already been placed.
Heeseung doesn’t know when he had let things get this bad. Heeseung doesn’t even know why things had gotten this bad in the first place. The hopelessness, self-hatred, and nebulous cloud of fucked-up-ness that hangs over his head is crushing. He almost feels like he might choke.
Heeseung thinks about the bowl of ramen Jay had painstakingly made for him the other night. It was Chicken Tonkotsu, just how Heeseung liked it. His favorite food tasted god-awful for some reason he couldn’t figure out, but he still finished it up with Jay. He picks at the pieces of spring onion floating around in the broth. They’re floundering in apathy, just like he is. It’s as if ramen had lost its appeal along with everything else in his life.
He thinks about the feeling of his puppy on his chest, belly-up and tail swatting lightly against him in excitement. The feeling of warm fur in between his fingers almost makes the tears dry from his cheeks. He forgets about the pair of chewed-up Air Force 1s laying on the floor next to his bed.
He thinks about Ni-ki next to him in a movie theater, hands moving animatedly as he tries to keep him in the loop about whatever’s going on. Heeseung nods along, the words and images barely registering in his head, but he can still grasp a tiny fraction of the film they’re watching. Something about aliens, he notes as he watches a spacecraft streak across the big screen. Heeseung doesn’t really understand, and he tries to ignore the harsh shushes and fingers against lips from cinema-goers as Ni-ki continues rambling on like he’s doing commentary at the Super Bowl.
Heeseung is trying to keep up with the world around him, he really is. He doesn’t remember how and when things started moving faster, how he’d let himself fall this far down, when he’d started giving up on himself. No one knows either, because he doesn’t tell. Doesn’t even show any signs. Jay is still hard at work finding a new recipe to impress Heeseung with. Ni-ki is still looking up new films to watch with Heeseung this weekend. The older thinks it’s better to keep it this way; he’d hate to ruin what the others loved to do. He’s already ruined enough in this world.
The dial-tone pulses in and out, each ring significantly longer than the last one. A part of him is hoping no one on the other end picks up his call so he can just abandon the phone and go to bed. To his dismay (and relief, Heeseung comes to realize later on), someone does.
“Hi!” A breathless but energetic voice sounds from the other end of the call. The other boy’s voice is bright and cheery, a stark contrast against the silence of Heeseung’s end of the call.
Heeseung palms his hands against his jeans and takes a few breaths, enough to get a few audible words out. “Um… hi.”
“This is?” Heeseung pulls the phone away from his ear and looks at the screen. 31-7391-0107. He’s got the right number, but the reply he gets on the other end doesn’t match with what he expects. Or maybe he’s expecting too much. A sniffle makes its way out of Heeseung, and before he can utter a word of ‘sorry’, the voice on the other end speaks up again, this time slightly toned-down.
“Ah, sorry!” Silence hangs between them for a few moments. “Could I get your name?” The voice takes on a motherly tone, one that Heeseung doesn’t expect. His voice feels like a menthol drop in Heeseung’s ravaged throat.
“H-Heeseung.”
“Hey Heeseung! My name’s Jake.” The other boy’s tone is warm and gentle, calming the towering, crashing waves in Heeseung’s heart. Jake sounds like a nice name to Heeseung, and the name rolls off his tongue naturally as he mouths it to himself.
“I’ve never done this before but I’m… looking for something. Help, I guess.” Heeseung finds the strength from within to utter a few words out, but the boy on the other end lets him take his time. “I’m just having a really rough time right now and I’m calling because I don’t know what to do or who to talk to.”
“Hey Heeseung… I’m so sorry you’re struggling like this.” Jake breathes out from the other end, and Heeseung is starting to regret ever spilling his heart out like this in front of a complete stranger on the phone. Shame starts to set in.
“This is the line for… people who need help, right?” Heeseung asks. The thought of pressing the big, red button on the screen is tempting.
“Ah… Yes and no. You’ve reached the wrong number- but it happens to me a lot, since I’m one digit off from the hotline. Oh-three-one takes you all the way out to Gyeonggi-do. But it’s okay, Heeseung! You can talk to me. I’ve actually become a bit of an expert, myself, with helping those in need.”
Heeseung pulls the phone away and looks closely at the number he’s punched in. One number is off, just like Jake has pointed out. Heeseung cringes at the fact that he’d mess up something as simple as punching in numbers on a screen, but something about the genuine care and concern in Jake’s voice forces him to stay on the line.
“Oh… are you sure? I really don’t mean to disturb you.” Heeseung cups his hand over his mouth and realizes that he might be dragging the poor boy into his own mess. “You probably have your own life and it’s a weekend so you might be out with friends and—”
“No, no… don’t say that. It’s alright! I’m home, in bed with my dog and on the phone with you,” Jake gives a gentle laugh. “What’s going on with you, sweetheart?” Heeseung looks down towards his lap and sees his puppy curled up snugly. How nice it would be if Heeseung could look even just half as peaceful as her.
“Um…” Heat rises in Heeseung’s chest, and his voice is shaking even more now. “I’m Heeseung… Lee Heeseung. You’re probably going to hang up when you connect the dots and realize who you’re talking to, but it’s okay, I’d do that too if I were you.”
Jake gives out a soft, breathy laugh. “Entertainment news isn’t really big around here, so don’t worry about me. To me, you’re just Heeseung, and I’m just someone far away who’s talking to you over the phone!”
The thought of Jake having no idea that Lee Heeseung himself is calling up a helpline makes him feel a little more assured. That certainly wouldn’t be good for the press, or his managers, or the group. Heeseung still puts everyone else first— he always, always comes in second.
“I received a slip from the doctor, informing me that I’ll be put on the backburner from today onwards.” Heeseung drops his forehead into his palm.
“I know, it’s nothing much, but I’ve always tried to be a good idol, I’ve tried so hard, but these few months I’ve just let myself slip. I stopped caring about my health and worked through colds and aches and fevers… I thought it would do me good but I ended up landing myself… here.” The last of his words fade into a sob, the violent outrush of a crumbled levee sweeping him away.
“Listen to me, Heeseung. There’s only one person I’ve failed to save, out of hundreds who’ve called me over the years, and I’m going to do everything to make sure that number doesn’t grow.” Jake admits the last part in a softer voice. It piques Heeseung’s curiosity, but he decides not to prod.
“Don’t hold back your tears, Heeseung. It’s okay to cry, and it will always be okay to cry. I know people treat boys like they can’t be weak, like they have to uphold the entire world, but there will always be a time for weakness.” Jake’s voice is gentle compared to the sobs on the other end of the line, but he continues talking.
“Can I ask you a question? How much does it hurt?”
“It’s… unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my life… Not even when I got yelled at or when my dog bit me…” Heeseung laughs softly, but Jake can tell that his voice is still laced with pain.
“Precisely. Because of that, things will only get better than it is now. This doesn’t mean your career is over— you still have a long road ahead of you. You know pain like no other, and because of that, you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
No one talks about what happens when one of them goes on a “health-related hiatus”. No one talks about how you’re forced to watch the group carry on like no one’s ever left, while you sit isolated from the rest like a stray. No one talks about how being told to rest as an idol will hurt even more than ticking off the boxes of a packed schedule. Because they’ve never known rest, and Heeseung thinks that rest only comes in the form of the few hours he gets every night to lie in bed and drift in and out of sleep. It’s unhealthy, of course, but Heeseung has never doubted his hectic lifestyle from the start.
“What if things change after I return? What if I make one little mistake and ruin so much more? And the members… I know they blame me. They have to work twice as hard now to cover for me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“They don’t blame you. I’m willing to bet on it with every fiber in my body. They care for you, Heeseung. You are all pillars for each other, and even though it’s a sensitive time now, if you’re willing to accept the help they’re rendering to you, I can promise that you’ll see just how much everyone around you loves and treasures you.”
Heeseung doesn’t think anyone has ever talked to him in such a manner. Pure, unadulterated care. Jake goes straight to the point, and Heeseung thinks he needs that now.
“If the pain wells up again, just drop me a call, I already have your contact saved!” Jake’s voice is still strong and unwavering. Heeseung doesn’t know how Jake has managed to be so calm and understanding after hearing someone’s entire sob story being poured out.
“Don’t ever give up hope. When you need help, ask those you love. Give it, in return. I know you have so much love within you to give; right now, it’s just finding a place to go. If you open up your heart to others, you’ll see how much life has to offer you. You still have much to do, sweetheart.” The term of endearment rolls off Jake's tongue so naturally, Heeseung almost lets the tears fall again. For the first time in a long time, Heeseung feels loved. And he knows he will be if he does the right thing.
“Thank you so much, Jake…”
“Of course, you know my number if you ever need help again.”
Heeseung pauses for a moment, then vocalizes a question he’s been meaning to ask Jake from the start.
“Could I ask a personal question?”
“Shoot.”
“Who was the one person you couldn’t save?”
This time, it was Jake that paused, one with a deep silence rather than soft sniffles and heavy sobbing.
“Ah… It was simply my inexperience with helping someone in pain. Nothing to dwell on, it’s alright. You take care, alright?”
Heeseung takes Jake’s word and doesn’t dwell on it. “Thank you so much, Jake. You do more than you could ever know.”
The call ends, and Jake sets his phone down on the bed gently. He smiles at a small picture sitting by his bed. The frame is decorated with kiddish fox stickers, and the letters S and J are scribbled on and encased with a heart.
“See, Ddeonu?” Jake whispers. “I told you I’d never let another person fall to despair.”