FAILZZZ
Okay. So. I'm cleaning out my folders on my computer and I find a bunch of unfinished fics. I'm sure I had lovely lovely ideas for these once upon a time, but for the majority I have ABSOLUTELY no idea where the fuck I was going with them. A couple are obviously ones I started for the 100 fic challenge- regrets, cake, overworked- the others, I have no clue. I don't want to delete them because I don't like deleting my work (however crappy), but I don't want them taking up space on my computer either. So I'll store them here. UNFINISHED FIC DUMP YOU GUYS. There's at least one of these that I think I'll be working on finishing, though. Anyway. So. Yeah.
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When he wakes up, it’s dark; the room is black except for the glow from the digital alarm clock. The digital alarm clock that blares the time in harsh red numbers, announcing that in less than five hours they’ll be leaving for the airport, flying to a different country, flying miles and miles away from his home.
(and by home he doesn’t mean Korea, doesn’t mean Seoul, doesn’t even mean the dorm. home is here in his arms.)
Jongwoon stirs beside him, and Ryeowook looks up into the older man’s face, eyes adjusting to the dark. His eyes are closed, and there’s a faint smile on his lips, so different from the pained expression he’d worn all day before, their last day together for who knew how long. He looks so peaceful, so happy, so beautiful Ryeowook thinks, and then laughs to himself because isn’t that what Jongwoon always told him? You’re so beautiful, Ryeowook-ah. Except he isn’t, not really. Ryeowook knows he isn’t beautiful, or pretty, or cute. Unless he’s with Jongwoon. With Jongwoon he’s the most gorgeous thing in the world.
But in five hours he won’t be with Jongwoon. He’ll be in China, with new people and new faces and some old ones too, but still they aren’t him.
The room is black except for the glow from the digital alarm clock. The room is quiet except for the muffled sounds of conversation from beyond the wall. It’s late, but not too late. Not late enough for everyone have headed to bed, but late enough for the day’s schedule to be over.
Ryeowook is the only one in bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Kibum.”
“Bummie.”
“Kibum-ah!”
Kibum finally looks up from the script he has in a death grip, startled to see Ryeowook sitting beside him on the couch. “Ryeowook! How long have you been there?”
“For about fifteen minutes, Kibum,” Ryeowook answers wryly, and Kibum knows he isn’t lying. He can’t help it, when he’s studying lines he gets so wrapped up in the work that he doesn’t notice anything around him. It’s an innate talent he has, useful in a band with twelve (sometimes fourteen) other rowdy members.
But his attention has been sufficiently distracted from the script, so he does notice the way Ryeowook is looking at him with concerned eyes. Kibum gives him his best disarming smile, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He really really wants to get this scene memorized before dinner, and he wishes Ryeowook would just say what it is he wants so that he can get back to work. “Did you need something?”
Now it’s Ryeowook’s turn to shift uncomfortable, eyes falling to the floor. “No, not really. I just… I was worried about you. You seem so- overworked lately.”
Kibum laughs, reaching out to squeeze Ryeowook’s shoulder comfortingly. “Is that all? We’re all overworked, lately, Ryeowook. It comes with the job, if you haven’t noticed.”
This doesn’t seem to persuade Ryeowook, who frowns and looks back up at him. “I know, but lately you’ve been- You don’t eat like you should, and I know you don’t sleep as much as you should, and all you do is study scripts all day and it’s worrying me.”
“Ryeowook-“
“It isn’t just you either. It’s all of us,” he suddenly blurts out. “Between subgroup work and photoshoots and practice and rehearsals and fan signings and show guestings and-“
“Yeah?”
“We all just need something to have fun and relax.” Ryeowook pleads, and Kibum smiles softly. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but what are we supposed to do? Work is work. We can’t just call the managers and say, ‘Hey, we’re taking a day off, cancel all our schedules and we’ll just fuck around all day because we’re overworked like every other star in Korea.’”
“Yes,” Ryeowook admits, stretching out the syllable with a sigh. “But-
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hyung! Hyung, happy birthday, hyung, I betcha can’t guess what our present’s gonna be?” Sungmin hopped across the living room and jumped onto the couch, bouncing up and down on the cushion and tugging at Eeteuk’s sleeve.
Donghae followed, sitting a little less violently on the couch, wrapping his arms around Sungmin from behind and resting his chin on the older boy’s shoulder. He was beaming wide enough to match Sungmin’s smile, and looking at the two eager faces, Eeteuk couldn’t help but roll his eyes and laugh. “It’s not gonna be something weird like underwear, is it?”
Sungmin clasped his hands together happily. “Of course not, hyung! We’re gonna make you a mph-“ Donghae clamped his hands over Sungmin’s mouth, shushing him. “Shut up, hyung! It’s gonna be a surprise,” he explained to a still-laughing Eeteuk.
“Now come on, we want it to be finished in time.” He stood up, pulling at Sungmin to follow. The other boy hesitated, giving Eeteuk a look. “You better not come in the kitchen, hyung,” he warned, then yelped in pain when Donghae smacked the back of his head and forced him from the room.
They nearly ran into Kangin, who tried to come through the door the same time as the giggling pair tried to barrel through. Bowing and apologizing, they scurried away, leaving him calling threats after them before he gave up and fell onto the couch beside Eeteuk. He pulled the older man close against his side, murmuring into his hair. “They’re making you a cake.”
“I know.”
“They’re also making you a mess to clean up.”
“I know.”
“Want me to stop them?”
Eeteuk shook his head and kissed his way up Kangin’s neck to his mouth. “No, let them. It’s worth it.”
“But it’ll taste like crap.”
“Your present will make up for it, I’m sure?” He blinked, eyelashes fluttering against Kangin’s cheek, and Kangin could only swallow, nod, and try to ignore the ominous sounds coming from the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hyung?”
Eeteuk glanced up from his breakfast at the quiet voice, a change from the loud barrage of sound that filled the kitchen. Ryeowook slid into the empty seat beside him, eyes trained on the hands folded in his lap.
“What is it, Ryeowook?”
The younger singer glanced around, making sure that none of the other members were paying attention to him and the leader. Finally, he allowed his eyes to meet Eeteuk’s, soft and questioning. “Why do people make New Year’s resolutions, hyung?”
The older man blinked a few times, caught off guard. He managed to compose a quick reply in his head. “So that they can be sure they have no regrets in life.”
This answer seemed to satisfy Ryeowook. He sat up a little straighter, a small smile forming on his lips. “So if I don’t want any regrets, I should just make a list of resolutions of everything I want to do?” Eeteuk bit his lip nervously. “Um… yes?”
Ryeowook gave a sigh of relief. “In that case…” Eeteuk suddenly found himself with an armful of Ryeowook, the younger boy closing the gap between their chairs to wrap him in a bear hug. His voice reached his ears, muffled by the fact that his face was currently buried in the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you, hyung.”
“For explaining resolutions?”
“No.” Ryeowook pulled away slightly to look into Eeteuk’s eyes, still clasping at the leader’s hands. “Thank you for everything, hyung.” He gave their joined hands a squeeze, still smiling, then got up and left without saying anything else. Eeteuk rolled his eyes at the retreating back, but as he went back to his breakfast, he could feel the annoying pull of a warm smile at the corners of his mouth.
1. Thank Eeteuk.
“Yah, move over. I want to sit there.” Ryeowook glanced up from the TV, not surprised to see Heechul standing there with his hands on his hips. Always accommodating, the younger boy shifted to the other end of the couch, letting Heechul have ‘his’ spot.
After two minutes of quietly sitting, Heechul began to fidget. “Hey, Ryeowook. Switch with me. I can’t see from here.” Deciding to ignore the fact that both spots on the couch were of equal distance from the TV, Ryeowook obliged his hyung and switched seats.
About a minute later, Heechul’s ears perked at the sound of a crinkling wrapper. His eyes shot to Ryeowook, who froze in the midst of unwrapping a candy truffle. Heechul’s eyes widened. “Hey, don’t you know it’s rude not to share?” Ryeowook gripped the candy tighter in his palm. “But hyung, it’s my last one.”
“So you’ve already had some. I haven’t had any. You should give me that one.”
“But… it’s my last one… I’ve been saving it all day.”
Heechul gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Ryeowook. Hyung does so much for you, and you’re so selfish you can’t even share a piece of candy? I thought I taught you better than that.” He shook his head in disappointment, then grinned as he felt the candy drop into his lap. He immediately popped it in his mouth, focusing his attention back on the TV.
“What is this ridiculous show? I don’t want to watch this. Where’s the remote?”
Ryeowook bit his lip, casting his eyes downward. “This is my favorite show,” he mumbled to the floor. Heechul cocked his head. “What was that, Ryeowook? You should speak up. Now go change the channel.”
“This is my favorite show, hyung.” The younger singer said forcefully. The older man laughed. “So? It’s boring, and I don’t want to watch it. Oh, here’s the remote-“
He gasped as the device was snatched from his hands mid-click. Ryeowook glared at him, eyes blazing. “I said, this is my favorite show, and I was here first, and we are watching this show because it is my favorite, and if you think it’s boring, then you can just fuck off and go somewhere else, because- because-”
“Because you said so?”
“Exactly.” Ryeowook tucked the remote
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking back, Eeteuk can pinpoint exactly what was the beginning of the end. It was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on whether you were one of the members just getting home from a late schedule or one of the members waking up for an early schedule. In either case, there was a sizable group of them gathered in the living room, and Eeteuk still isn’t quite sure exactly who came in and out throughout the night. This may be because the night in question was more almost a month ago, but is more likely because of the copious amounts of alcohol he himself consumed that night, which was nothing compared to how much Kangin and Heechul managed to down.
Come to think of it, they were all in various states of intoxication. Eeteuk remembers thinking that he wasn’t setting a very good example for the younger members, and though he’s pretty sure Kyuhyun and Kibum weren’t there at that point, he knows for a fact that Ryeowook was there because that’s partly what started the whole mess in the first place.
Well, to be perfectly fair, Kangin himself was the one who started it. Or maybe it was Heechul? Really, it all depended on how one looked at it. Heechul had been beyond drunk at that point, draping himself over Siwon and teasingly flirting with the nervous-looking younger man. This was a daily occurrence, but Heechul was pushing it even further that night, dragging his lips seductively across Siwon’s jawline in a way that was clearly making him very uncomfortable.
Everyone knew Heechul meant nothing serious by it, but Eeteuk had told him gently but firmly to ‘cut it out and leave poor Siwon alone.’ Kangin followed it up by adding angrily, “Yeah, no one wants to see that shit.” Heechul isn’t one to back down from a challenge, so he’d moved across the floor to sink beside Kangin, laying one hand on the other’s thigh and fluttering his eyelashes ridiculously. “Aw, is somebody jealous?”
Kangin snarled and shoved Heechul away. “Don’t touch me, you fucking fag.” The words clearly didn’t faze Heechul, who threw his head back in laughter and took up residence on the sofa beside Shindong. The words didn’t really faze any of them, to be honest. Crude language was to be expected from Kangin, and even if it sometimes bothered them, no one felt like picking a fight with a drunk Kangin anyway.
So everyone had been fairly surprised to hear Ryeowook’s small voice protesting from the corner of the room. “Hyung, don’t say that.”
“What?” Kangin blinked at him, not really understanding what he meant.
“That word. Don’t say it.” Ryeowook’s eyes were focused stubbornly on the floor, his face flushed red (and Eeteuk was fairly certain it wasn’t just because he was drunk).
“What word?” Kangin was thoroughly confused at this point, the alcohol only making up a small part of that confusion. Shindong kicked him lightly from the couch, frowning. “Fag, you dumbass. He doesn’t want you to say fag.”
“Please stop saying it.” Ryeowook sounded close to tears at this point, and Yehsung got up from where he sat and moved to rub the younger man’s back comfortingly. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, Wook. Calm down.”
“I just don’t like it.” They could barely make out Ryeowook’s small voice, and Kangin folded his arms angrily. “Jesus, it doesn’t even mean anything. Get over it.”
“Hyung, it means a lot to some people,” Sungmin protested from where he lay sprawled out on the floor.
“Yeah, like other fags,” and Kangin really hadn’t meant to be so confrontational, but he was aware that Ryeowook was now crying and he was afraid that he was going to be blamed. Confrontation was his default defense mode, which really didn’t make sense, but what really did make sense when you were drunk?
“It’s just a word,” Eunhyuk pointed out, and Kangin nodded vigorously. Ryeowook pushed Yehsung off of him and stood up, looking very imposing and vulnerable at the same time. “It isn’t just a word! It isn’t just a word when people call you it every day, call you disgusting and sick and a fag until you just want to- to- Just don’t say it anymore, Kangin! I mean it.”
The room was silent for a moment. Kangin looked appropriately cowed, until the liquor in his blood screwed things up once more and he blurted out, “Wait- you’re actually gay?”
“God, are you fucking retarded?” Heechul snapped, drawing some of the attention away from a shaken Ryeowook. “There’s thirteen of us, goddamn, we’re not all going to be straight, what the hell did you think?”
“Well, I knew you weren’t, that’s a fucking given,” Kangin shot back defensively. “But it’s not like we went around the room and said whether we were gay or straight when they made us Super Junior, how the fuck was I supposed to know Ryeowook was gay?”
“Maybe we should do that now,” Sungmin suggested cheerfully, still spread-eagle on the floor. He giggled, and it was quite obvious he was beyond smashed. “The going around the room thing. I’ll start!” He struggled to his feet, dropping on to the couch and snuggling his way into Shindong’s arms. “I’m gay. Your turn.” He poked the larger man’s stomach with another giggle.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do that now,” Eeteuk said vaguely. He had a sinking feeling that the situation was beyond his control, and he firmly blamed that ninth shot of soju. The rest of the room ignored him as Shindong squeezed Sungmin’s shoulder and stated jovially that he was straight.
“We can skip Heechul,” Siwon said hurriedly, suddenly noticing that the man in question was turning predatory eyes on him once more. “I’m straight, too.” He ignored the sultry pout the older man made at that statement.
“Me three,” Eunhyuk added with a shrug. “Not that I have a problem with it or anything.”
Ryeowook was still standing, and Yehsung pulled him down into his lap, wrapping protective arms around him. “I’m not really one or the other,” he admitted, subtly skipping the younger man’s turn to speak. “Sometimes I like a girl, and sometimes I like a guy.” The latter was said quietly, accompanied with a soft kiss to Ryeowook’s temple. The smaller singer sighed, twisting around to bury his face into Yehsung’s shoulder and loop his arms around his neck. Everyone else turned to look at Kangin, next in line, who sat there uneasily flicking his eyes from face to face.
“What? What do you want me to say?” He demanded, arms still crossed defensively. Heechul rolled his eyes and said rather snarkily, “We’re waiting for you to reiterate the fact that you’re as straight as a fucking ruler. Unless, of course, you’re not…” He added teasingly, again fluttering his eyes at the younger man.
“Like fucking hell I’m not straight, why the fuck would I like guys? It might work for some of you but I think it’s fucking disgusting. I mean, I don’t think you guys are disgusting,” he glanced nervously at Sungmin and Ryeowook, “but I would never touch a guy, I’m not like that.”
Eeteuk stood up and left the room.
He had woken up later in the morning with a raging headache, thankful that he didn’t have any early schedules that day. After an appropriate amount of groaning and dry heaving, he managed to make his way into the empty kitchen for a glass of water. It was only minutes later that a similarly hung over Kangin stumbled through the doorway, clenching his head with one hand.
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When he wakes up, it’s dark; the room is black except for the glow from the digital alarm clock. The digital alarm clock that blares the time in harsh red numbers, announcing that in less than five hours they’ll be leaving for the airport, flying to a different country, flying miles and miles away from his home.
(and by home he doesn’t mean Korea, doesn’t mean Seoul, doesn’t even mean the dorm. home is here in his arms.)
Jongwoon stirs beside him, and Ryeowook looks up into the older man’s face, eyes adjusting to the dark. His eyes are closed, and there’s a faint smile on his lips, so different from the pained expression he’d worn all day before, their last day together for who knew how long. He looks so peaceful, so happy, so beautiful Ryeowook thinks, and then laughs to himself because isn’t that what Jongwoon always told him? You’re so beautiful, Ryeowook-ah. Except he isn’t, not really. Ryeowook knows he isn’t beautiful, or pretty, or cute. Unless he’s with Jongwoon. With Jongwoon he’s the most gorgeous thing in the world.
But in five hours he won’t be with Jongwoon. He’ll be in China, with new people and new faces and some old ones too, but still they aren’t him.
The room is black except for the glow from the digital alarm clock. The room is quiet except for the muffled sounds of conversation from beyond the wall. It’s late, but not too late. Not late enough for everyone have headed to bed, but late enough for the day’s schedule to be over.
Ryeowook is the only one in bed.
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“Kibum.”
“Bummie.”
“Kibum-ah!”
Kibum finally looks up from the script he has in a death grip, startled to see Ryeowook sitting beside him on the couch. “Ryeowook! How long have you been there?”
“For about fifteen minutes, Kibum,” Ryeowook answers wryly, and Kibum knows he isn’t lying. He can’t help it, when he’s studying lines he gets so wrapped up in the work that he doesn’t notice anything around him. It’s an innate talent he has, useful in a band with twelve (sometimes fourteen) other rowdy members.
But his attention has been sufficiently distracted from the script, so he does notice the way Ryeowook is looking at him with concerned eyes. Kibum gives him his best disarming smile, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. He really really wants to get this scene memorized before dinner, and he wishes Ryeowook would just say what it is he wants so that he can get back to work. “Did you need something?”
Now it’s Ryeowook’s turn to shift uncomfortable, eyes falling to the floor. “No, not really. I just… I was worried about you. You seem so- overworked lately.”
Kibum laughs, reaching out to squeeze Ryeowook’s shoulder comfortingly. “Is that all? We’re all overworked, lately, Ryeowook. It comes with the job, if you haven’t noticed.”
This doesn’t seem to persuade Ryeowook, who frowns and looks back up at him. “I know, but lately you’ve been- You don’t eat like you should, and I know you don’t sleep as much as you should, and all you do is study scripts all day and it’s worrying me.”
“Ryeowook-“
“It isn’t just you either. It’s all of us,” he suddenly blurts out. “Between subgroup work and photoshoots and practice and rehearsals and fan signings and show guestings and-“
“Yeah?”
“We all just need something to have fun and relax.” Ryeowook pleads, and Kibum smiles softly. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but what are we supposed to do? Work is work. We can’t just call the managers and say, ‘Hey, we’re taking a day off, cancel all our schedules and we’ll just fuck around all day because we’re overworked like every other star in Korea.’”
“Yes,” Ryeowook admits, stretching out the syllable with a sigh. “But-
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“Hyung! Hyung, happy birthday, hyung, I betcha can’t guess what our present’s gonna be?” Sungmin hopped across the living room and jumped onto the couch, bouncing up and down on the cushion and tugging at Eeteuk’s sleeve.
Donghae followed, sitting a little less violently on the couch, wrapping his arms around Sungmin from behind and resting his chin on the older boy’s shoulder. He was beaming wide enough to match Sungmin’s smile, and looking at the two eager faces, Eeteuk couldn’t help but roll his eyes and laugh. “It’s not gonna be something weird like underwear, is it?”
Sungmin clasped his hands together happily. “Of course not, hyung! We’re gonna make you a mph-“ Donghae clamped his hands over Sungmin’s mouth, shushing him. “Shut up, hyung! It’s gonna be a surprise,” he explained to a still-laughing Eeteuk.
“Now come on, we want it to be finished in time.” He stood up, pulling at Sungmin to follow. The other boy hesitated, giving Eeteuk a look. “You better not come in the kitchen, hyung,” he warned, then yelped in pain when Donghae smacked the back of his head and forced him from the room.
They nearly ran into Kangin, who tried to come through the door the same time as the giggling pair tried to barrel through. Bowing and apologizing, they scurried away, leaving him calling threats after them before he gave up and fell onto the couch beside Eeteuk. He pulled the older man close against his side, murmuring into his hair. “They’re making you a cake.”
“I know.”
“They’re also making you a mess to clean up.”
“I know.”
“Want me to stop them?”
Eeteuk shook his head and kissed his way up Kangin’s neck to his mouth. “No, let them. It’s worth it.”
“But it’ll taste like crap.”
“Your present will make up for it, I’m sure?” He blinked, eyelashes fluttering against Kangin’s cheek, and Kangin could only swallow, nod, and try to ignore the ominous sounds coming from the kitchen.
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“Hyung?”
Eeteuk glanced up from his breakfast at the quiet voice, a change from the loud barrage of sound that filled the kitchen. Ryeowook slid into the empty seat beside him, eyes trained on the hands folded in his lap.
“What is it, Ryeowook?”
The younger singer glanced around, making sure that none of the other members were paying attention to him and the leader. Finally, he allowed his eyes to meet Eeteuk’s, soft and questioning. “Why do people make New Year’s resolutions, hyung?”
The older man blinked a few times, caught off guard. He managed to compose a quick reply in his head. “So that they can be sure they have no regrets in life.”
This answer seemed to satisfy Ryeowook. He sat up a little straighter, a small smile forming on his lips. “So if I don’t want any regrets, I should just make a list of resolutions of everything I want to do?” Eeteuk bit his lip nervously. “Um… yes?”
Ryeowook gave a sigh of relief. “In that case…” Eeteuk suddenly found himself with an armful of Ryeowook, the younger boy closing the gap between their chairs to wrap him in a bear hug. His voice reached his ears, muffled by the fact that his face was currently buried in the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you, hyung.”
“For explaining resolutions?”
“No.” Ryeowook pulled away slightly to look into Eeteuk’s eyes, still clasping at the leader’s hands. “Thank you for everything, hyung.” He gave their joined hands a squeeze, still smiling, then got up and left without saying anything else. Eeteuk rolled his eyes at the retreating back, but as he went back to his breakfast, he could feel the annoying pull of a warm smile at the corners of his mouth.
1. Thank Eeteuk.
“Yah, move over. I want to sit there.” Ryeowook glanced up from the TV, not surprised to see Heechul standing there with his hands on his hips. Always accommodating, the younger boy shifted to the other end of the couch, letting Heechul have ‘his’ spot.
After two minutes of quietly sitting, Heechul began to fidget. “Hey, Ryeowook. Switch with me. I can’t see from here.” Deciding to ignore the fact that both spots on the couch were of equal distance from the TV, Ryeowook obliged his hyung and switched seats.
About a minute later, Heechul’s ears perked at the sound of a crinkling wrapper. His eyes shot to Ryeowook, who froze in the midst of unwrapping a candy truffle. Heechul’s eyes widened. “Hey, don’t you know it’s rude not to share?” Ryeowook gripped the candy tighter in his palm. “But hyung, it’s my last one.”
“So you’ve already had some. I haven’t had any. You should give me that one.”
“But… it’s my last one… I’ve been saving it all day.”
Heechul gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, Ryeowook. Hyung does so much for you, and you’re so selfish you can’t even share a piece of candy? I thought I taught you better than that.” He shook his head in disappointment, then grinned as he felt the candy drop into his lap. He immediately popped it in his mouth, focusing his attention back on the TV.
“What is this ridiculous show? I don’t want to watch this. Where’s the remote?”
Ryeowook bit his lip, casting his eyes downward. “This is my favorite show,” he mumbled to the floor. Heechul cocked his head. “What was that, Ryeowook? You should speak up. Now go change the channel.”
“This is my favorite show, hyung.” The younger singer said forcefully. The older man laughed. “So? It’s boring, and I don’t want to watch it. Oh, here’s the remote-“
He gasped as the device was snatched from his hands mid-click. Ryeowook glared at him, eyes blazing. “I said, this is my favorite show, and I was here first, and we are watching this show because it is my favorite, and if you think it’s boring, then you can just fuck off and go somewhere else, because- because-”
“Because you said so?”
“Exactly.” Ryeowook tucked the remote
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Looking back, Eeteuk can pinpoint exactly what was the beginning of the end. It was either very late at night or very early in the morning, depending on whether you were one of the members just getting home from a late schedule or one of the members waking up for an early schedule. In either case, there was a sizable group of them gathered in the living room, and Eeteuk still isn’t quite sure exactly who came in and out throughout the night. This may be because the night in question was more almost a month ago, but is more likely because of the copious amounts of alcohol he himself consumed that night, which was nothing compared to how much Kangin and Heechul managed to down.
Come to think of it, they were all in various states of intoxication. Eeteuk remembers thinking that he wasn’t setting a very good example for the younger members, and though he’s pretty sure Kyuhyun and Kibum weren’t there at that point, he knows for a fact that Ryeowook was there because that’s partly what started the whole mess in the first place.
Well, to be perfectly fair, Kangin himself was the one who started it. Or maybe it was Heechul? Really, it all depended on how one looked at it. Heechul had been beyond drunk at that point, draping himself over Siwon and teasingly flirting with the nervous-looking younger man. This was a daily occurrence, but Heechul was pushing it even further that night, dragging his lips seductively across Siwon’s jawline in a way that was clearly making him very uncomfortable.
Everyone knew Heechul meant nothing serious by it, but Eeteuk had told him gently but firmly to ‘cut it out and leave poor Siwon alone.’ Kangin followed it up by adding angrily, “Yeah, no one wants to see that shit.” Heechul isn’t one to back down from a challenge, so he’d moved across the floor to sink beside Kangin, laying one hand on the other’s thigh and fluttering his eyelashes ridiculously. “Aw, is somebody jealous?”
Kangin snarled and shoved Heechul away. “Don’t touch me, you fucking fag.” The words clearly didn’t faze Heechul, who threw his head back in laughter and took up residence on the sofa beside Shindong. The words didn’t really faze any of them, to be honest. Crude language was to be expected from Kangin, and even if it sometimes bothered them, no one felt like picking a fight with a drunk Kangin anyway.
So everyone had been fairly surprised to hear Ryeowook’s small voice protesting from the corner of the room. “Hyung, don’t say that.”
“What?” Kangin blinked at him, not really understanding what he meant.
“That word. Don’t say it.” Ryeowook’s eyes were focused stubbornly on the floor, his face flushed red (and Eeteuk was fairly certain it wasn’t just because he was drunk).
“What word?” Kangin was thoroughly confused at this point, the alcohol only making up a small part of that confusion. Shindong kicked him lightly from the couch, frowning. “Fag, you dumbass. He doesn’t want you to say fag.”
“Please stop saying it.” Ryeowook sounded close to tears at this point, and Yehsung got up from where he sat and moved to rub the younger man’s back comfortingly. “He doesn’t mean anything by it, Wook. Calm down.”
“I just don’t like it.” They could barely make out Ryeowook’s small voice, and Kangin folded his arms angrily. “Jesus, it doesn’t even mean anything. Get over it.”
“Hyung, it means a lot to some people,” Sungmin protested from where he lay sprawled out on the floor.
“Yeah, like other fags,” and Kangin really hadn’t meant to be so confrontational, but he was aware that Ryeowook was now crying and he was afraid that he was going to be blamed. Confrontation was his default defense mode, which really didn’t make sense, but what really did make sense when you were drunk?
“It’s just a word,” Eunhyuk pointed out, and Kangin nodded vigorously. Ryeowook pushed Yehsung off of him and stood up, looking very imposing and vulnerable at the same time. “It isn’t just a word! It isn’t just a word when people call you it every day, call you disgusting and sick and a fag until you just want to- to- Just don’t say it anymore, Kangin! I mean it.”
The room was silent for a moment. Kangin looked appropriately cowed, until the liquor in his blood screwed things up once more and he blurted out, “Wait- you’re actually gay?”
“God, are you fucking retarded?” Heechul snapped, drawing some of the attention away from a shaken Ryeowook. “There’s thirteen of us, goddamn, we’re not all going to be straight, what the hell did you think?”
“Well, I knew you weren’t, that’s a fucking given,” Kangin shot back defensively. “But it’s not like we went around the room and said whether we were gay or straight when they made us Super Junior, how the fuck was I supposed to know Ryeowook was gay?”
“Maybe we should do that now,” Sungmin suggested cheerfully, still spread-eagle on the floor. He giggled, and it was quite obvious he was beyond smashed. “The going around the room thing. I’ll start!” He struggled to his feet, dropping on to the couch and snuggling his way into Shindong’s arms. “I’m gay. Your turn.” He poked the larger man’s stomach with another giggle.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do that now,” Eeteuk said vaguely. He had a sinking feeling that the situation was beyond his control, and he firmly blamed that ninth shot of soju. The rest of the room ignored him as Shindong squeezed Sungmin’s shoulder and stated jovially that he was straight.
“We can skip Heechul,” Siwon said hurriedly, suddenly noticing that the man in question was turning predatory eyes on him once more. “I’m straight, too.” He ignored the sultry pout the older man made at that statement.
“Me three,” Eunhyuk added with a shrug. “Not that I have a problem with it or anything.”
Ryeowook was still standing, and Yehsung pulled him down into his lap, wrapping protective arms around him. “I’m not really one or the other,” he admitted, subtly skipping the younger man’s turn to speak. “Sometimes I like a girl, and sometimes I like a guy.” The latter was said quietly, accompanied with a soft kiss to Ryeowook’s temple. The smaller singer sighed, twisting around to bury his face into Yehsung’s shoulder and loop his arms around his neck. Everyone else turned to look at Kangin, next in line, who sat there uneasily flicking his eyes from face to face.
“What? What do you want me to say?” He demanded, arms still crossed defensively. Heechul rolled his eyes and said rather snarkily, “We’re waiting for you to reiterate the fact that you’re as straight as a fucking ruler. Unless, of course, you’re not…” He added teasingly, again fluttering his eyes at the younger man.
“Like fucking hell I’m not straight, why the fuck would I like guys? It might work for some of you but I think it’s fucking disgusting. I mean, I don’t think you guys are disgusting,” he glanced nervously at Sungmin and Ryeowook, “but I would never touch a guy, I’m not like that.”
Eeteuk stood up and left the room.
He had woken up later in the morning with a raging headache, thankful that he didn’t have any early schedules that day. After an appropriate amount of groaning and dry heaving, he managed to make his way into the empty kitchen for a glass of water. It was only minutes later that a similarly hung over Kangin stumbled through the doorway, clenching his head with one hand.
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