Work Text:
1.
If people ever ask Jihoon if he ever had everything easy to be on the top of the pyramid, he’d constantly offer a simple smile and a million different stories with somebody engraved in every one of those storylines.
He learned things the hard way when he realized he loved being in the spotlight. He loved the admiring gazes people sent him at a young age whenever he indulged himself in performing. It boosts his self-esteem, enough for him to gain the courage to try stepping on another level of showing himself to the world. He auditioned to one of the biggest entertainments wearing his young heart on his sleeves, choosing a path that rests his idea of happiness and relied on the courage and passion he has on being admired. He loved it. He grew to stitch back the threads of his heart whenever he failed to meet the expectations of many. Despite wanting to trade the pain for anything, he didn’t.
Because one of the many times of pain pushes him to the edge when a person shows up at the edge of the staircase with him — stupidly crying with him as his heart shreds into shards of passion he never knew he’d hate… It brought him the first moment he’d ever cherished in the form of a man he met around winter, warm and pink hair locks playing on his forehead as he offered a comfort Jihoon never knew would patch up the shards of his heart in a second.
Trust him when he says, he never knew joy could dye its hair. Or even have one.
So if people would ever ask him again if he ever had it easy, he’d still smile.
If easy means being able to share his pieces to another person, then maybe, it was easy.
2.
If people ever ask Jihoon if he ever desired something before and still don’t have it now, a smile would creep on his lips and his eyes sinks to a sea of things he loved, and never possessed even now; despite how transparent he was, they’ll never know that at the deepest corner of its waters, a pair of crescent eyes looks up to Jihoon as they remind him how much of life he had missed for not being able to hold its features for past ten years when he could have.
He could have it. He realized it the first time he saw the photo album offered by a woman who brought those crescent smiles to the world. He saw places he had never seen at the age of 9. A boy roaming around the city of Singapore, smiling all over the gigantic figures of the heroes he was fond of; away and happy from a little boy across the countryside, admiring the beauty of Busan with shutter-like eyes that take pictures of his town through his memories and for his older self to tell.
But on the other hand, he was glad the little boys didn’t meet 10 years ago.
If they had, they wouldn’t have different stories to tell one another about being in Singapore, and being in Busan.
They wouldn’t have the time to memorize the stories, re-tell them as if they’re one and relive them after 10 years.
That’s why one time, when he was asked if what would he tell the little boy roaming around the city of Singapore with his little cap covering the undyed hair, he said:
“See you in 10 years.”
So, if people would ever ask him once again, he ever desired something achingly and not being able to have it — he’d smile. Because for obvious reasons, Jihoon knew he could have the crescent eye smile in ways more than one: full of bliss, snickers, chuckles, grins, sneers and laughs of joy.
And he was more than glad after 10 years, the little boy sauntered into his life not even reminding him that he had missed a good few years of his life — when he could spend his future with Jihoon more than they’re together.
3.
If people ever ask Jihoon if he had everything in a hard way, what made him not stop his path? And what he said? Guess — he smiled. True that he had things the hard way. He had to push his luck over and over, stitch his heart onto his sleeves and put a facade of a smiling man through the aching of his muscles and vocal chords because he loved being in the shape of a monster. And when push comes to shove, a pat will get him back to his human toes with a pair of words such as, “You’re doing good.”
He had many friends. Had. Have. Still have. Everybody feels like passing by him every now and then, and it overwhelms Jihoon as he questions the core essence of his existence for not moving forward when everybody’s ahead of him. It’s a dilemma he had at the age of 19 when he had to take a break from the passion he was sure he’d pursue for the rest of his life.
At 19, he thought the world ended when his feet brought him out of the building.
The anxiety of being not good enough crashes with another set of thoughts telling him that he’ll be left behind, alone and unfulfilled. Dreams be damned. His own room became a cage for those thoughts for months and the monster he was honing became a scaredy cat staring at him across the room, questioning him just the same. He brought that creature back to the building where his passion set a flame the moment he was invited back, but the creature was no longer the monster he honed.
Yet after meeting his friends in the eyes of the cameras surrounding him, he never knew that being dehumanized by the presence of his comfort people was the last straw to get him back to the right state of mind —
Or perhaps, a few crescent smiles sent to his way by a man wearing a black cap covering the locks with the shades of silver when that last time he saw them was in brunette — it was humanizing.
He never believed in multiple chances, but he knew, when he saw through the pair of eyes of Choi Hyunsuk, he was given the chances he never asked and even never knew.
So if people ever ask what made him not give up — he’d smile. Pull a long list of answers, and circle out the easiest yet the most significant to the older Jihoon.
All carved out with a name: Choi Hyunsuk and his kind smiles.
4.
If people ever ask Jihoon what keeps him up at night, he’d smile. As if it tells the obvious answers and suddenly his features show a picture of a man silently letting Jihoon drift to sleep on his shoulder after practice as he plays with his locks, whispering a pair of words like a prayer and a promise.
“If I keep on lending you my shoulder, I hope it lessens the weight of your thoughts,” He was stupid. Like hell it does. Like hell it will. Like hell it would.
To hell, it did.
It still does.
Sometimes, he’d fall asleep on the man’s lap and he’d feel the hovering of the man’s hands on his face. It plays with Jihoon’s then warm pink hair, sending the shivers on to Jihoon’s skin. Adding to the many times Choi Hyunsuk became one of the reasons he’d sleep late for all the good reasons. After being in the same position of leading their team, he can already feel the new level of support he never knew would lessen the pressure and anxiety of showing up to the spotlight.
So if people ever ask Jihoon what keeps him up at night, he’d offer a smile and blatantly throw looks at Choi Hyunsuk for being kind. For being everything, Jihoon wasn’t but everything Jihoon doesn’t have, filling out his shortcomings and making them whole. And he never thanked anyone more than the higher-ups for putting them in this position wherein support and communication became a constant key to their relationship, and happiness was its result.
5.
If people ever ask Jihoon who he looks up to the most, he’d smile and instantly throw the very first person he admires on stage, as if it’ll compensate with the deep shouts of his shallow heart for not saying who he admires whenever he watches from the back of his team. Like hell it’ll silence the truth along the lines of admiring someone truly with his whole heart aching on his palm, arms’ length distance with the same man who gives him a tap when push comes to shove.
For some reason, the untouchable history of a person he admired became shallow to the one he truly indulged himself to. He never knew he’d sweep the history facts to base his admiration on just the fact that he liked a person’s consistency to dye his roots, too-large smile, and unshakable love for his passion. It’s not shallow, right? It was justifiable, right?
After all, if the future permits, when one day, people will forget about them, he knew someday across that future, he’d be the first one to sing a few lullabies about a guy he first met during winter, with a ridiculous pink hair and a too-large heart for his own good. He’d be the first one to ever write a pocketbook full of poetries he silently whispers in the air as a prayer every time he witnesses the man snicker at his jokes. Maybe, if the future permits, he could be the first and last one to ever witness how that person would love with a large heart of his. A kind calloused pair of palms. Crescents all over and crying roots.
And for some dumb fucking reason, he knew the word admiration itself was never close to the one he feels for the guy he always calls; kind.
One pocketbook says it’s friendship, but more of the novels say it was love. And Jihoon’s nothing but a sucker for romance.
Jihoon never thought of love as shallow when he had received love more than he had given all his life; he grew to know that to love is to honor, he didn’t know love and its forms, but he knew how to love one above all else with all of their forms. And it was enough.
A good reminder of his childhood thought about love was observed when Choi Hyunsuk chose to be the one to show up and support him on the very first time, he started patching his dreams he had told the guy back in their trainee days.
To love is to honor.
To whose honor do Jihoon’s love was made for.
So if people ever ask Jihoon who he admires the most, he’d smile.
If love’s as shallow as admiration, he may have had an answer ever since 2018.
6.
If people ever ask Jihoon what’s the easiest decision he made in life, he’d smile knowing that the answer plays in between the years of being with somebody who knows him like the back of his hand, as if no one could compare and life of many may be perished but his memories of their younger self will prevail.
When they started to play their cards on the stage, hint their passion onto a thousand more people and be judged by many by just seeing their appearances, Jihoon thought the easiest to choose was silence. People could throw the harshest words to him and he’d never be unfazed. They could unsheath their swords and pin it where it hurts the most, he knows it’s not even closest to the vulnerability of his heart.
But when people chose to throw the darts to his co-leader, it awakened another fear in Jihoon’s heart. He knew how tough the latter was. He knew that things being thrown at him were never the same as the ones the latter was able to grow past through. But for some reason, a ink drop-size of fear fills Jihoon’s chest until he realizes that he wasn’t the one who’s strong and tough. The members could perceive the other way around but for him, it wasn’t. When the growing fear became an eye-opener that he was strong because Hyunsuk was. Is.
He was tough because Hyunsuk was. Is.
So what happens when Hyunsuk feels a pint-size of fear?
Nothing.
Because the easiest decision he made all his life was to stay at his side in an arms’ length distance, ever so trusting and competent.
So if people ever ask Jihoon what’s the easiest decision he made in life, he’d smile knowing it was already written on a scroll of promise the first time Hyunsuk cried at their first concert and he hugged him.
Just then he realized Jihoon wasn’t strong because of Hyunsuk. Hyunsuk wasn’t strong because of Jihoon.
They just grew to be compatible cemented foundations of each other to assure that no darts could pin fear into them anymore. That’s Jihoon and Hyunsuk.
7.
If people ever ask Jihoon what’s the first place he thinks about when he hears the word, “found home”, a smile will grow onto his face, a creeping truth that might slip out if he smiles even wider knowing that there’s no place like home than the times, he found them in between the hours of casual calls and laughs in the middle of their tasks; all from the same person.
Honestly, it could be Japan. It could be anywhere near the places they’ve been over the multiple tours they had in the country. He could name Busan for the simplicity of the question. He could name one of the countries they’ve been, some route they went or even a single food place they loved and forgotten then. He might as well humor the question, straight up answer the building where they build their passion for what it’s worth.
But he knew deep down his soul, he’d always choose the first base from his dream.
He’d choose to look back to the 2nd staircase from training room B. The one where he cried his heart out, and gained pieces of it as well.
He’d choose the corner of the practice room before their debut, where a green-haired guy would constantly put his fingers locked with the strands of pink hair as anxiety of their upcoming debut grows — yet at those times, the magic of the other guy’s palms seemed to stitch peace to his noggin.
He’d choose the autumn day he spent taking pictures of the guy in his denim jacket, unaware how the beauty of the fall became clearer to Jihoon, emotionally and literally.
He’d choose the minutes before he debuted as an MC, meeting a pair of eyes on the mirror of the dressing room and a smile grew back to his lips at the sight of the bouquet of flowers he learned to love — not as much as he loved the bearer.
He’d choose to go back to the purple studio wherein he’d hear the sound of the giggles in his sleep, he’ll have his favorite white sweater scented with his favorite scent and drift to slumber feeling safe in the corner of the person he admires the most.
He’d even choose the Lego museum despite not being fond of the idea of it, he’d choose the photo museum despite feeling distracted by being with somebody for once to share what he loved, and the other places they detour to such as the ice cream shop he grew to love even as a trainee.
See, the truth slips out of his mouth if he ever smiles wider at the thought of the places he mentioned as if they’re not all similar in one thing.
With wanting.
His eyes fell on his phone, staring at the 3-hour running time of the call as he got back to watching the anime he had been looking forward to watching for days. He can hear the little taps on the EDM and heavy disappointed sighs from the other line and Jihoon could only put a smile on his lips casually as he got back to watching.
“Do you think it’s true? Facing the biggest wave around winter could really offer you one wish?” Jihoon asks, eyes glued on the screen where Ride Your Wave was playing.
Hyunsuk then answered after a few playing of harmonies, chuckling. “If ever it is, what is it gonna do with winter? What’s with winter?”
Oh.
Jihoon could run his mouth about what’s with winter if only he loved him less.
So he says while thinking of the same season he met the guy with a ridiculous color of hair and kind smiles, “A lot.”
The younger guy smiled.
“Hyung?”
A hum was heard from the other line after the long comforting silence they only shared.
“Thank you.” Jihoon whispers like a promise.
A chuckle from the phone resonated with the red lighting of Jihoon’s space and it warmed his chest.
“No, thank you.” By then, they’ve reached the ground of understanding that both of them were grateful for the presence of one another — all acknowledged by continuing their tasks as the call’s running time kept on going.
Like they always do. A reminder for Jihoon to not cherish the time, but who he spends it with. Not thank the days, but who he uses them with. Not fear the years, but losing the one he’s been with throughout all of it.
They’ve reached the common ground that the silence could answer and who else could communicate in silence?
“Happy birthday, hyung.”
A guy who loves to honor.
“Thank you, Jihoon-ah.”
And the guy who honors his love.
So, if people ever ask Jihoon what place he thinks about when he hears the word, “found home” — he’d smile.