Chapter Text
“You’re thinking too much again, Hyunnie.” Of course he is. He always thinks too much. Hyunjin hates that about himself. Hates when everything bad within him starts to spiral beyond his control and starts to consume every neuron in his brain. How does one make his own mind shut up?
He tried punching his poor pillow, then flinging it to the wall, then pressing his face into the battered thing and screaming his heart out.
Nothing helps.
He's sure Changbin has heard and seen enough. Hyunjin himself has had enough of his tragic lack of a love life.
“Mm,” Hyunjin says in place of voicing out those thoughts. The truth is that he has nothing helpful to say. The hum comes out as more of a pained grumble, but Changbin doesn’t comment on it even as his roommate sniffles and chokes back tears. This has become a familiar occurence, as much as both parties hope to forget about it.
He knows better than to push the younger man past his limits. Hyunjin is more delicate than he likes to let on—he sharpens others' words into blades, slices them straight into his heart, and lets each one calcify into his being. They bleed poison into his veins, turn his bones to ash, and yet no one but himself knows how much it hurts. Not even Changbin.
Even when it feels like his heart might stop at any moment, Hyunjin pushes on. Because he's stubborn like that with his emotions.
Anyone who looks carefully enough, who merely dips a toe into Hyunjin's affairs, would be able to catch his mask slipping.
A messy mind is a foolproof recipe for failure and Hyunjin never falls too far from it. His body is still right where he left it. Legs folded under a shaky frame, forehead flush againt the floor.
A zombie of himself. A soul corrupted with illness. An empty vessel, bleeding out in the cold because he chose to leave it be instead of pulling himself out of the misery. It is his own stubbornness that beats him down.
His passion for the stage wanes and disintegrates into black dreams. Hollow caves, still waters, blank expressions, empty concert halls. Faces that sneer at him, smear vulgarities onto signboards, spit saliva on his shoes.
Nighttime pulls him underground, but his days look just as grim.
It happens too often now. More than familiarity—almost overwhelming the man.
Fear and self-hatred creep into his mornings before the sunlight can even warm his curtains. Doubt lurks around studio recordings, burrowing into his skin and making itself comfortable in the back of Hyunjin's cluttered mind.
Too much. It displaces the quiet from the inside, kicking away the fans' praise and his hyung's care. He quickly finds that there is no space left for him on the canvas when he paints his dreams—no, his nightmares. There is no space for him to exist in the team's future.
He runs out of his favourite paint one day and stops replenishing it. It's hard to find a reason to continue wanting something when he no longer finds enjoyment in it.
Life is passing him by and Hyunjin does not have the energy to chase anymore. Dreams, love, happiness. They all seem to slip just out of grasp.
He thinks about giving up, then rethinks it, coming to a different conclusion each time.
It's out of his control. His life is out of control.
Somehow, even with storms brewing in his head, the foolish man manages to show only the nice parts of himself and keep the torn parts hidden. Hiding helps.
He shrinks away from loud laughter and bristles when the noise gets unbearable. Changbin wants to wrap his friend up in bandages and scold him for all the self-destructive behaviour, all the avoidance and distraction. But it won’t work. At least not when it’s Changbin doing the helping.
He tried, but... it didn't work.
Hyunjin has a stubborn complacency about crying in front of others. It is why he always hides in his room alone in the middle of the night, losing hours of sleep just to let go of his complicated feelings. No one is ever around to witness them, and Hyunjin likes it that way, save for that one time years ago when Seungmin first found him sobbing alone and put his firm, pretty hands over Hyunjin’s shaky palms and held them like he meant something to Seungmin.
No permission needed.
Hyunjin loved the way the boy looked at him. Unadulterated concern, worry, and softness. More than a friend—a buddy, a companion, a confidant, a beacon.
Seungmin’s eyes shone that night, perhaps as a result of his own unshed tears, or because the fondness he held for Hyunjin had to find its way out and make itself known in some form. Truly, those dangerously bright eyes were what had Hyunjin wrapped around Seungmin's finger. Because maybe Hyunjin could mean something more than just a friend in need. Even now, years past that special day, Hyunjin still wants that back. Hope.
Once upon a time, things were much less depressing, and Hyunjin thinks he knows who can help him through this new low in his life. The only one who has seen him at his lowest is Seungmin and he wants to get that version of them back, although it seems like things have changed irreversibly and life has spiralled so far out of Hyunjin’s expectations that he might never get to witness the same glorious days of a past long gone.
Things used to be easy. Ringing laughter, mindless chatter, comfort offered in soft hugs and Hyunjin’s hands in Seungmin’s. They ate breakfast together, teased the other members with jokes that flowed as easily as water.
They knocked shoulders while walking to lunch, naturally taking the seat beside the other, elbows crammed together at the window seat of Seungmin’s favourite eatery. One spoonful of food, followed by sips of sweet barley tea and a generous helping of homemade Kimchi that helped to ease the ache of homesickness. The freshness of spending their late teens attached at the hip, then growing into their twenties and losing the roundness of their cheeks was more than they could ever dream of. More than Hyunjin had ever dared to wish for.
Picnic dates happened before trainings got hectic, boisterous afternoons surrounded by the rest of the team when practice took up most of their waking hours, followed by lazy evenings spent laying in the taller boy’s bed, legs sore, but hearts happy.
They whispered about what Seungmin wrote in his diary each night, about how lucky they were to have all made the debut team, about their future aspirations, and about promises of more discoveries and milestones they'd love to share. Those bright days were more than a figment of Hyunjin's wild imagination. They were memories. Their radiant memories.
It didn’t matter how cramped their living space was, because it brought them together; quiet and chaos. Hope and passion. Patience and desperation. Warmth and love.
Seungmin and Hyunjin.
As time passes, things change, and life heads in its own direction. Like a push and pull of waters along the boat’s hull, or the recurrent morphing of seasons. From the warming up of winter’s soil, to the shedding of leaves signalling autumn’s arrival, Hyunjin admires the beauty of these big changes around him—predictable and necessary for the world’s workings.
He embraces the beauty of each unique shift, now yearning to sink into snow, soil, or sand.
Nature's magic effortlessly pulls him in.
His private life beyond idol duties are once again stocked with plans of camping, romantic scenic tours, and the good old picnic dates they used to have. He plans to do all of that now before their upcoming world tour steals all their time and energy.
One good thing has not changed, and that is how Hyunjin has big dreams and a greater love for his singer. The only problem is this: they haven’t been as close as they once were for a long time coming.
Gone are the nightly talks, one-on-one dates, Seungmin’s hands on Hyunjin’s back, easy smiles traded between lingering stares. No phonecalls, barely any texts, short birthday wishes without lame but thoughtful gifts, no unexpected visits, and certainly no shared hobbies.
What used to keep Hyunjin engrossed for hours—Seungmin’s soft black locks tangled in his hands while another K-drama played on the TV screen, music filtering in from the younger boy’s expensive speakers as they wrote silly rap lyrics to 3RACHA’s unreleased tracks, and shopping for matching phonecases, shoes, and trinkets, even though Seungmin prefers to keep his belongings neat and rarely has items dangling from his bag—gone.
They had that bracelet that Seungmin whined for days about before Hyunjin finally got to stringing it together. He put extra care into each bead, going so far as to buy a new kit just to match the colours to make the perfect design for Seungmin.
Now, that childish bracelet is long forgotten about, maybe thrown out a while ago or lost and buried under a pile of old clothes.
Hyunjin tells himself not to think too much about it.
He knows his mind is a time capsule regardless.
Even as the rims of his eyes are tinged a painfully obvious pink, Hyunjin is still determined not to cry today. Not again, at least. Sobbing over a bowl of Kimchi jjigae as his hyung pats his back is just peak loser behaviour. Hyunjin is more prideful than to let himself fall into another wave of tears.
He wishes they were in a bar instead, doused in alcohol, drowned out by the music from the speakers, blending into the dim lighting and distracted late-night crowd. Maybe then, he wouldn't feel so small.
“I just miss us,” he says to supply his hyung’s waiting. He has to say something, and what better time to spill the truth from his own lips than now?
He doesn’t have to say more that that. Changbin knows.
Everyone knows, really, except for Kim Seungmin himself, but Hyunjin prefers to keep things this way.
Hiding behind happy laughs and idiotic jokes becomes the new normal. He puts on a face of calm collectedness in hopes of emulating Seungmin’s cool personality and injecting it inside of his being. That might make everything seem a little less scary. That might make Seungmin realise how hard Hyunjin has been trying to protect these sacred love.
Hyunjin wants it to be real. He wants a lot of things, really.
Given the chance, he could talk for hours about anything and everything with Kim Seungmin. He could talk about his feisty little Kkami back at home that behaves too much like puppy Seungmin does for them to not be related by blood. Or his mom’s amazing kimchi recipe that Seungmin would fall in love with. Or what to wear tomorrow so that he can match outfits with Seungmin. Or how the lighting at today’s photoshoot made everyone look a few shades too pale, but Seungmin, especially, looked extra tired behind the camera and it makes Hyunjin worry about him. Or that when he tells Changbin that he’s working on his art again, all he really does is stare at the half-done portrait of Seungmin and Hyunjin because his art now feels so far removed from reality that it Hyunjin must look ridiculous in his pining. Or that the throb in his chest gets a little more unbearable with each passing day where he has to hold his broken heart in his hands just to keep it from breaking further.
Whoever says that time heals all wounds must have never felt this kind of painful love before. It burns his being, skins him alive, and strips him bare.
He wants to tell Seungmin that to love him is a gift as much as it is a curse. He wants to pluck out a piece of his bleeding heart and put it onto paper, but that would be too burdensome for Seungmin to bear.
He wants to confess.
But most of all, he just wants what he and Seungmin used to have. It’s hard to stop himself from wanting to fly after having a taste of dancing amongst the clouds.
“You should talk to him about it. I don’t think Seungmin even knows.”
Exactly. Should Hyunjin be the cruel one and burst Seungmin's bubble?
“He- he doesn’t care about me like that anymore, what makes you think he would like me back?”
“That’s not true at all, Hyunjin-ah. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance, too.” When the younger man doesn’t protest further, Changbin continues, his voice low, “Look, you really need to talk to him. I swear this… this isn’t going to resolve itself. You need to stop hiding. Seriously.”
“I know, I know. I’ll talk.” Hyunjin concedes, even as part of him pictures himself running away from this shitty life.
“About everything?”
Hyunjin lets out a soft whimper, muffling it into his sleeves. It’s cold. That must be why his nose is red, is what Hyunjin tells himself. He tells himself many lies nowadays.
The man holds on to the silence.
“Do it soon, Hyunjin-ah.”
“I will,” he replies. That part isn't a lie. Hyunjin just wants to cry.
Now it is only a matter of when and how he wants to say it. His worrying can come a little later.
___
The rest of winter flies by, the chill of the air settling deep into his bones. Each intake of breath feels like a rattle in his old ribcage. It reminds Hyunjin of the creak of dusty floorboards, of time flying by before his very own eyes, almost like a ghost has come by and stolen the very last drop of energy within him.
He turns 26 in Korean age.
Every limb feels weighed down when he slips past his bedroom door into the shadows of a familiar room. The place becomes a time capsule, dust and dirt coating each surface. Hyunjin ages within his four walls, searching up HyunMin ship videos of yesteryear, when they were younger, happier, and the undeniable spark of something more shone in Hyunjin’s eyes.
It sounds stupid, and childish, and idealistic, and very much like everything Hyunjin wanted.
Wishful thinking — that's what Hyunjin is best at. He gets hung up on one thing and suddenly the rest of the world gets tuned out, blurred away, erased.
There was a time when it was natural for him to call up his best friend, shamelessly demanding tteokbokki for breakfast at their favourite food stand a stone's throw away. The ajumma calls them her favourite handsome boys every time they visit, which made all the sweat and struggling and post-food toilet runs worth it. He hasn’t been to that side of Seoul, clad in a black mask and his worn out bucket hat, in at least a year. He misses it.
It is with a wistful longing that Hyunjin turns in for the night again. He cuts the video short—the one showing Hyunjin’s affectionate stare at Seungmin as he recites his speech to thank Stays at their award show win—and plugs his phone to the power cable. It’ll take too much out of him to look through the comments again today, so he doesn’t let himself brood over it.
He doesn't want to cry about this anymore.
It is time to take off the rose-tinted glasses, Hyunjin resolves. He will talk soon. He has to. His birthday is officially over. Seungmin had walked in with Felix, hands cupped around the number “26” candles on his huge birthday cake. His voice was sweet, as usual. Seungmin is always sweet. Too sweet for Hyunjin’s heavy expectations. Too sweet to be bogged down by the mind-numbing darkness that surrounds Hyunjin and his romantic—unattainable—cravings.
Hyunjin tries, and predictably fails, at clinging on to the last of his own body heat. It leaves just like the rest of his fight. Even under the thick comforter, warmth slips away, past the walls of their expensive two-bedroom apartment, and seeps out into the quiet Seoul night. He doesn’t need to read the comments to remind himself of what is missing. So, Hyunjin pines once more for one man’s love. It’s hard not to think about the emptiness in his chest when it’s just him and his messy room at 12 a.m.
His belongings are scattered every which way. Seungmin would have chided him for this without a second thought. Hyunjin wishes he could hear that sweet voice nagging him again. It has been a while. Too long of a while to bear.
The minutes fly by on the clock. At some point, the tears he didn’t realise were falling come to a standstill. Tear tracks dry along his skin, leaving splotches on his pillowcase. If he can't fall asleep in the next half-an-hour, Hyunjin might as well haul his ass out of bed. Changbin is going to be mad at him for sneaking out at night, but he can leave the aftermath of today to future Hyunjin. Tonight is too suffocating to spend at home with all his unresolved feelings.
The night passes just like that with another lonely breeze in his hair and an equally lonesome star staring back at him. It almost looks to have been dulled out by the foggy air.
Hyunjin thinks that tonight isn’t that great of a time to be alive. Dying of a broken heart doesn't sound selfish at all. Maybe he's turning insane. He should walk home now.
Even now, he misses Seungmin dearly.