Supernova { Part IV }
{ PROLOGUE } { PART I } { PART II } { INTERMISSION I } { PART III } { PART IV }
{ INTERMISSION II } { PART V } { PART VI } {PART VII } { EPILOGUE }
Part IV - Decay
Through the veil of flashing lenses and sound of crystal hearts breaking, the Mercedes squeezed through a gap in the chaos and sped away. Minseok could only grip the leather seats in a futile attempt to stop his heart from running into overdrive and burning out of his chest; ribs and skin be damned. If he licked his lips, he could still taste a hint of Lu Han that lingered teasingly and it made his whole body quiver.
He sucked in a breath and allowed his gaze to slant next to him. Lu Han was sat in the same position, knuckles white as he clung to the squeaky material. He slowly looked back at Minseok with a rogue smile blooming across his face, like a fox, as if to say “wasn't that fun, little bun?”
Minseok had lost count of the words trapped in his dry mouth that he wanted to say: You’re crazy, did you know that? Do you have any idea how hard my chest is beating right now? Why did you do it? What’s in it for you?
And most importantly of all: Can you do it again?
His mind was, presumably, an open book and Lu Han’s eyes read every line in silent hunger. The star bit his lower lip and inched his body closer, piece by piece, until their thighs grazed. He reached up with one hand and cupped the side of Minseok’s face, running a thumb over his cheek as the city lights flew over his skin in playful lines.
Minseok went to say something then, anything he could coherently string together, but Lu Han placed a finger against his opening lips.
His touch said it all: no words, just actions.
The space between them closed and the light both dimmed and grew brighter simultaneously as Lu Han leaned in. Those flyaway milliseconds before their lips touched were enough to steal Minseok’s limited breath away for a second time except, in this instance, it wasn’t for the sake of a theatrical performance; there was no-one to witness this save for the lone driver with his attention fixed safely on the road.
The kiss - born as a soft, lingering peck; sensual and sweet - soon escaladed into something passionate as both bodies fought to be closer to one another, satisfying a incessant thirst. That is, until Minseok gave in and let Lu Han push him up against the car door, the back of his head resting on the vibrating glass, and his eager hands wandered under the confinement of the scruffy hoodie and shirt to graze his fingertips across the star’s smooth stomach.
Lu Han only paused to smile against his lips before pressing harder against him still. The act of breathing had completely defeated Minseok by this point and he longed for the car journey home to never cease.
Because if there was ever a way to run your tongue along the edge of someone’s soul…
Lu Han had found it.
*
It was unsurprisingly difficult to open his apartment door with a celebrity back-hugging him and trying to playfully nibble on his ear. Minseok squirmed as Lu Han’s teeth tickled his earlobe and the two fell into the living room giggling like teenagers, high on taken chances and the electricity from whenever their skin touched. True to form, as soon as the door closed behind them, Lu Han tugged the hoodie over his head with a mischievous glint to his eyes and threw it onto the floor. Minseok could only stare in disbelief at what was happening and retreat to the sofa where a simple nudge sent him flying backwards onto the lumpy cushions. Lu Han fell forward on top of him, and proceeded to leave kisses along his lips, cheeks and even trail down onto his neck.
If only the cold sting of reality could have stayed away a little longer.
“Wait, wait…” Minseok lightly pushed at Lu Han’s shoulders and he reluctantly pulled away. “W-why are you still kissing me?”
Lu Han cocked his head to the side. “What?”
Once again, it had all sounded better inside his head and a part of him automatically regretted even bringing it up. “The cameras…they’ve gone now…”
Lu Han gently sighed and propped himself on his elbows either said of Minseok’s head. “It’s because I like you, Baozi. A lot. Not just because of the cameras. Haven’t I made that obvious?”
“You’re kissing me all over my face and I’m still having trouble coming to that conclusion. Trust me, I need more than obvious.”
Because it feels too good to be true.
“Well…just tell me what I have to say…” Lu Han’s voice dropped to a delicate whisper and let his fingers glide down Minseok’s body to linger on his belt buckle. “Or what I have to do…and I’ll do it.”
Minseok gulped and tried to keep his breathing steady. “The k-kissing was doing the job, to be honest - I liked the kissing part,” he stammered while nodding like an idiot.
Lu Han’s lips tugged at the edges. “Me too.” And he leaned down once more, never to let go.
*
When Minseok opened his eyes again, it was well and truly daylight outside. Since he’d forgotten to close the curtains the previous night, the sunlight rippled through the glass in warming rays and slowly crept to where his and Lu Han’s heads lay. He could feel something hidden deep inside the sofa digging into his back - probably the TV remote he hadn’t seen for days - and the unevenness of the cushions had made the whole left side of his body ache but he didn’t dare shift his position to get comfortable, not when Lu Han’s arms were holding him so perfectly.
Lu Han was still fast asleep; his beatific features barely inches away from the end of Minseok’s nose. Dust particles danced in the light beams and landed on his fluffy hair. If he looked close enough, Minseok could just make out the faint redness under his eyes from when he’d cried and it twanged his heartstrings. Something that beautiful should never have to cry.
As much as his stomach was growling and he knew he would have to move eventually to escape the travelling sunlight, Minseok couldn’t help but close his eyes again; wrapped so tight in the clutches of an angel he could almost feel the feathers.
*
“Baozi? What’s this?”
Dodging the spitting oil sizzling happily in the frying pan, Minseok raised his eyebrows and looked over from the kitchen to Lu Han still perched on the sofa. He’d managed to pull a pile of papers out from under the coffee table and was casually flicking through them. One sheet, in particular, seemed to have caught his eye and he held it up curiously.
“It looks like music…”
Minseok gulped. “T-that’s nothing, I wouldn’t look at that-” He made sure the pan was balanced on the hob before abandoning his precious bacon and flying across the room. He went to snatch at the paper but Lu Han was too quick for him and hid it from view behind his back.
“If it’s nothing, why don’t you want me to see it?”
“I-…it’s not important…”
But that wasn’t good enough for Lu Han, who’d jumped around the sofa to make use of the convenient barrier. Impish grin at the ready, he pulled the sheet back around and began to scan it frantically as though he expected whatever was on it to evaporate in seconds.
“A Message to an Angel,” he read, forehead crinkling in interest. “Inspired by Into Your World…” He looked up at Minseok. “You wrote this?”
Minseok scratched at the back of his neck. “Umm…maybe. It’s not any good, though-”
Lu Han ignored him and started walking around the room, eyes glued to the page. Minseok sneakily wondered if he could grab the paper quickly without ripping it in half before Lu Han came back over and shoved it willingly into his hands.
“Play it for me,” he demanded. “I want to hear it.”
Minseok only stood like a mannequin, staring at his work of art until his insides wound up into a knot. He had never actually planned to show anyone, let alone perform, the song that he’d pieced together only a few days before. His anxiety was getting the better of him, sweaty palms and all.
Lu Han fluttered his long eyelashes. “Please?”
Minseok, rubbing his clammy hands on his trousers, finally answered: “Let me save breakfast first.”
*
Naturally, Lu Han ate as fast as his stomach would allow but Minseok, the complete opposite; he was stalling. The food, however, had to run out at some point and, once Lu Han had flashed a dose of aegyo in his direction, there was nothing left to do but fetch his keyboard from its home under the bed and rest it on the coffee table.
“I always wanted a proper piano,” he said, stroking the familiar keys. “But my parent’s place was never big enough for one. Plus, they’re expensive as hell. We didn’t have that kind of money.”
He picked up the music sheet, rested it in front of him and took a deep breath before pressing his fingers down.
The entire time he was singing, Lu Han’s eyes never left his face. He tried his hardest not to be too self-conscious of his facial expressions or his voice messing up at any point, although it was only an issue for a few seconds. Singing had this habit of melting the rest of the world away for Minseok so it was only him and the music left. Nothing but the blur of reality swam around him.
The meaning of the song was simple: since Into Your World told the story of a guardian angel wanting to protect the love of his life, so A Message to an Angel was the mortal’s way of saying thank you and those precious three words to the otherworldly entity that he was so grateful for; his personal saviour. A supernatural metaphor, yes - but the truths behind the lyrics were as real as anything he could see or touch.
He played the final notes and waited for the new silence to break. Somehow he felt lighter having released certain emotions off his chest, even if it was in a ridiculously sentimental sort of way. Hopefully Jongdae would never find out or he’d never hear the end of it.
Lu Han released a slow breath. “That…was really something.”
“Really? Did you like it?” Please tell me you liked it.
“I loved it, Baozi. You have such an amazing talent, I had no idea.” He sidled up closer to Minseok and placed a hand on his thigh. “Do you realise who the real angel in this story is, though?”
“Who?”
“You.”
*
For Minseok to say he was walking on air for the rest of the week would have been awfully cliché, but since he could barely feel the hard ground under his feet as he walked, it seemed rather fitting; as though there were clouds where the concrete should be and the only direction for the rain to fall was underneath him where he couldn’t feel it.
Even through the blatant staring that was a little more intense than usual and the baiting wolf whistles from SNU’s basketball team who Minseok passed across the campus, he was too content to even remember that he’d technically kissed a guy in front of the nation which may or may not have some serious consequences. But he just didn’t care.
He jumped out of the elevator on the 8th floor of the Humanities block, waved cheerfully at the passing Literature administrator, and stopped mid-stride as he came face-to-face with a hoard of females flittering outside Jjang! HQ.
They’d all looked up as he approached and hushed their voices to watch him walk past. Minseok wasn’t quite sure how to react; he’d never seen that many people on the 8th floor before. Should he say hi? Who were they there for? For a second he thought he saw Baekhyun’s face flash up as the wallpaper on one of their phones.
As he went to pull the office door open, one of the girls stepped forward with a picture of Lu Han in her outstretched grasp and asked in a quiet voice, “Oppa? Could you sign this?”
It was a little unnerving having so many faces looking straight at him and so close, too. So Minseok took the photo, quickly tried to remember how he’d signed Minah’s autograph, and hastily bowed to everyone as he gave it back before retreating into the office before somebody else asked him. He even locked the door, just to be safe.
Inside he was greeted with another, yet slightly more familiar, sight.
Jongdae was man-handling the coffee machine and throttling it viciously.
“What’s the matter with you?”
He heaved a heavy sigh. “God isn’t listening to me.”
“Again?” Minseok teased, throwing his bag onto his desk. “Maybe you’re not praying hard enough.”
“I’ve got a whole morning on the Chinese legal system and no coffee to get me through it. This is worst day of my life - for real this time!” He lashed out again at the disappointing technology.
“Just leave a little earlier and grab one from the café. Stop being such a drama queen.” Minseok glanced back through the window in the office door to the girls outside. “Is the mob for you?”
Jongdae shook his head. “I bloody hope not. I think they’re here for him.” He pointed to Chanyeol’s desk.
Chanyeol’s empty desk.
“Jongdae…there’s nobody else here…”
He rolled his eyes and whispered, “Look underneath.”
Confused, Minseok bent down and, sure enough, there was a Chanyeol hiding under the furniture; long legs lifted up and bent near the wooden ceiling so he could fit and a laptop resting on his chest and thighs which were practically touching. It didn’t look comfortable, especially with his neck bent the way it was. How he’d managed to squeeze himself into such a small space to begin with was a complete mystery, yet impressive. The glowing computer was so close to his face, he might as well have sat in the screen.
“Yeollie, what the heck are you doing now?”
Chanyeol’s head snapped up in surprise and he frantically flapped his hand.
“Hyung! Duck down! Don’t give me away!”
Minseok looked back to Jongdae with a raised eyebrow, who only shrugged in return with an I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-this-kid-either kind of expression.
He sighed and eventually sat down on the floor. “Now will you tell me what you’re up to?”
“Have you been to our YouTube channel? I mean, the band’s YouTube channel?”
“Not recently, why?”
Chanyeol awkwardly turned the laptop around as far as he could. “Look! Look how many views it has!”
“Wow…” Sure enough, a few of the videos of Urban Blackout performing their most well-known tunes had gone from only a few thousand views to several hundreds of thousands of views in the space of only a couple of days. Their subscriber count, too, had sky-rocketed beyond belief.
“You should read some of the comments, too!” He clicked on one of the videos and scrolled down. Even as Minseok’s eyes tried to read them all, more and more were popping up automatically. “Look how many English comment there are! And Thai! And Chinese! I can’t even read them but there’s tonnes of smiley faces so I’m guessing it’s all positive. And the likes, look at the likes!” He waved the mouse enthusiastically over the green bar. “I literally had to run here because so many people kept trying to stop me and ask for an autograph. It was awesome!”
“That’s incredible, Yeollie. I told you all along you guys would do well!”
“Well, it’s all thanks to Lu Han, really. If he hadn’t sorted out those 5 minutes of exposure…oh, and you of course!”
“Me? Why me?”
“Hyung, you wrote half the songs,” said Chanyeol matter-of-factly.
“No, we wrote half the songs. Together. It was a joint effort.” Minseok missed those days; the days of lounging in the Music department with the band, a few beers, half-decent speakers, piles of music sheets and a whole array of instruments to play with. They’d stay up until the early hours singing, generally making a racket and hiding all the drumsticks from Chanyeol just to watch him hunt for them. So many colours, so many dreams - it was a shame life got in the way. “Maybe we should do that again. That is, if you can find time in your busy celebrity schedule...”
Chanyeol thwacked him on the arm. “Don’t you start! I’ve got so many e-mails from important people from fancy companies to go through, I don’t even know where to begin! It’s intimidating! I should’ve given them all Baekhyun’s e-mail address…”
“Actually, I would’ve gone with Kyungsoo. He’d have been your safest bet. But, hang on…” Minseok shifted his position to stop his leg falling asleep. “You still haven’t answered my question - why are you hiding under the desk?”
“Have you seen my hair? Look at it! Look at all their cameras!” Chanyeol motioned behind him and Minseok peaked over the desk. Sure enough, a couple of the girls had expensive-looking equipment swinging from their necks. Where the hell do they get the money for that kind of gear? he wondered. “I wasn’t prepared for this, hyung. Not one bit. You haven’t got a mirror on you, have you?”
Minseok patted his pockets. “Umm, no. Sorry, Yeols. I’m all out of mirrors.”
“Dammit. I’ll just have to wait for them to leave.”
“Good luck with that,” said Minseok with a dry chuckle, patting him on the shoulder. He knew full well that those girls weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Jongdae swirled a finger by his head and mouthed, “Lunatic!”
Minseok could only snicker and agree.
*
With each passing day, it became harder to drag himself out of bed and into university for classes, but he somehow managed it. Perhaps it was the promise of seeing Lu Han’s shining face each evening - Minseok’s apartment had become his second home since he’d decided to skive most of his practice sessions at the company after his own classes were over, which only resulted in an aggravated manager ringing him up only to be ignored. He’d be lying if he said that seeing Lu Han walk from the bedroom to the bathroom in just a small towel tied around his hips wasn’t the highlight of every morning. Although merely waking up next to him was a close second.
On Wednesdays, his lectures were over before lunch and this particular Wednesday was no different in that respect. However, as with all the other days, it wasn’t to be without its own hint of the unusual. He’d only just rounded the corner to his apartment block when the LuMin fan-poster, still clinging on and fuller than ever, caught his eye and he realised it wasn’t alone. Underneath was a little gift bag tucked by the wall. Brows knitted together, he wandered over to investigate.
He picked it up, shining silver, and read the tag flapping on the handle:
Minseok-oppa, a present for you! And could you please give the other to Chanyeol-oppa? ㅋㅋㅋ That would be wonderful! Thank you! Minah ~
Inside was a keychain with the most adorable bun plushie hanging from it, all white and puffy, and a little box. Since it wasn’t wrapped and curiosity got the better of him, Minseok flipped open the lid to see inside: a beaded bracelet. Except it wasn’t just any bracelet; the smaller, pale beads between the larger forest-green ones were little carved drums, like bongos. It was ridiculously cute and very apt for the happy-virus drummer. He couldn’t wait for Chanyeol’s face to light up at the sight of his first fangift.
As he pushed open his apartment door, he reached in the bag for the keychain and happily attached it to the zipper of his backpack. It made him smile just to watch it hang there with its lovable cartoon face and squishy cheeks. Why anyone would be a fan of his and buy him presents still completely escaped him but he was more than grateful nonetheless.
The living room, quiet and empty, only meant one thing.
He wandered into the bedroom and sighed. “Have you been in bed this whole time?”
Lu Han’s little face popped up over the quilt. “Maybe.” He groaned with a satisfying stretch of his arms and elongated his body under the covers. “You should come back and join me.”
Minseok laughed, swinging his jacket off his shoulders and hooking it on the wardrobe handle. “I’ve got work to do!”
“Not anymore!” Lu Han crawled out of the quilt and pulled at the bottom of his t-shirt so hard that Minseok had no choice but to tumble on to the bed and get engulfed by his wandering hands. “You were saying?” he whispered against his neck, which he then proceeded to brush with seductive kisses.
Minseok moaned with pleasure and then reluctantly wriggled out of his grasp. “Stop it, you tease!”
“Baozi, you’re no fun,” Lu Han pouted. “Why do work when you could lie here with me?”
“You know I would lie with you forever if I could.” Minseok leaned over and pecked the star on the top of his head. “But, seriously, I have an essay to write and the library was packed so I have to write it here. Don’t distract me!” He shot him a look and Lu Han pretended to zip up his lips.
“You won’t hear anything from me, I swear.”
Minseok shoved his feet into his trusted slippers, feet finally comfortable. “Haven’t you got anything today?”
“A lecture in an hour. Oh, and I won’t be back until late tonight - gotta actually turn up for practice today otherwise my manager is going to flip. That’s okay, right?”
“Sure. The spare key, it’s-”
“-in the flower box outside. I know, little bun, don’t worry. I’ll try not to wake you.”
“Please do.”
*
If I hadn’t let him go then, would it all have been different?
Could I have known in that moment? It eats me up inside.
Perhaps if I’d really thought about it…I could have seen it coming…
If I had escaped the fantasy for just a single instant…
But I didn't.
I really didn’t.
*
When Minseok woke up the following morning to an empty bed, he couldn’t deny the prickle of disappointment.
Rolling over, he threw out his arm to the bedside table and felt around aimlessly for his phone. He was half-expecting a text, at the very least, but the screen turned out to be blank, sans message of any kind.
He crawled out from the warm covers, contemplated getting straight back under when he felt how much colder it was without them, then decided to brave it as he ran to grab his dressing gown hanging up on the back of the door. The living room was just as empty and Lu Han-free and, this time, the front door didn’t open to reveal a fluffy-haired angel with a bag of bagels. Not today.
Of course, he didn’t think much of it. Knowing Lu Han, his work at the company probably went on until really late and he was too worried about waking Minseok up at an unreasonable hour. He was a considerate soul like that, perhaps a little too much so sometimes. He sent Lu Han a cheerful text asking how his practice went and pushed it to the back of his mind for a while.
Without a half-naked celebrity to brighten up his morning, Minseok continued his daily ritual of packing his things for university feeling deflated - although the broken sunshine outside warmed his spirits somewhat. When the front gates came into view, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He plucked out his earbuds and answered Jongdae’s call.
“What’s up, boss?”
“Hey! Fancy the steakhouse tomorrow night?”
“Sure, I’m always up for steak. What’s the occasion?” Minseok could hear so much banging and clattering in the background he had to push the phone harder against his ear. “And what the hell is that racket? Are you in the office?”
“Oh, Yeollie’s a bit excitable at the moment - he keeps climbing over everything and jumping around. One of their videos hit a million views on YouTube-” Suddenly his voice was cut off by a shout of “ONE MILLION! WOOOO!” in the background. Jongdae cleared his throat and continued. “Basically the band fancy celebrating so we thought we’d change things up a bit and go out for a meal or something. You want in? Invite Lu Han along!”
“Yeah, I’d l- what was that? You okay?”
“It’s still Chanyeol, he’s-” Crash. “Well, to be honest, he’s breaking everything with his ridiculously long limbs - my God, Yeollie, GET DOWN FROM THERE BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF!” Jongdae sighed. “He’s 2 months younger than me and I swear I feel like a babysitter right now- YAH! IF YOU BREAK THAT YOU’RE PAYING FOR A NEW ONE!”
“Okay, well you sound like you’ve got your hands full,” Minseok chuckled. “I’ll give Lu Han a ring now and see if he’s up for it, yeah? Sound good?...Jongdae?”
But it seemed the editor had been lost to a sea of cackling from the hyperactive drummer and a chorus of “GOD DOES NOT WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU! PUT IT DOWN!” singing out amongst the commotion. Minseok laughed out loud to himself as he hung up and then started dialling Lu Han’s number into the keypad.
It rang, and kept ringing - and ringing - until it went to answerphone.
Beep. “Hey, it’s Baozi - me and the boys are heading to the steakhouse tomorrow and wondering if you wanna come? Give me a call back…umm, yeah…bye!”
He must’ve had a lecture. Or he was still in bed.
Yes, that was it. He was still in bed.
*
“Hey, hyung, are you with us?”
“Huh?”
Kyungsoo had clicked his fingers in front of Minseok’s face to snap him out of his trance and the noisy restaurant came back into focus.
“Sorry, I zoned out. What were you saying?”
“Just that we may need to grow another cow - look how much Tao is eating!” Baekhyun’s mouth hung open wide in awe as he stared at Tao happily shovelling chunk after chunk of beef into his mouth. “Screw lead guitar, maybe we should enter him in the Guinness Book of Records or something…”
As the group nodded in agreement, Minseok slipped out his phone under the table. There still wasn’t any sign of a message from Lu Han. He’d never got back to him about the meal, not even to turn it down. He bit at the inside of his mouth and tried again with another text.
Did you get my last message? ~ B
“Actually,” came Jongdae’s voice. “That wasn’t what we were originally saying. We wanted to talk to you about something, hyung.”
It took a few seconds for Minseok to realise they meant him. He lifted his head. “Oh, me? What about?”
Jongdae shot Baekhyun a look as if to say it’s-your-turn-now and the singer cleared his throat. “We just wanted to say that…well, we saw the photos online of you and, umm, Lu Han and…err…it’s cool with us…totally…yeah…” He looked round at the table. “Did I say it right?”
“He’s saying we don’t care if you kiss guys and want to talk to us about it sometime,” said Kyungsoo with a shy smile.
Baekhyun snapped his fingers. “Yes! Exactly! What he said!”
Minseok didn’t know what to say, he just sat there with wide eyes and a mouth like a gaping fish. If he was going to bet money on what they would talk to him about, that was definitely not something he’d remotely guess for a second.
“Umm, wow, thanks…that’s actually really nice of you, guys. I don’t know what to say…”
“Don’t say anything, it’ll make things awkward. Just pick up your drink.” Jongdae lifted his glass. “Gentlemen, I would like to propose a toast - to music, Tao’s ridiculous appetite, and kissing boys!”
“Here, here!” they chorused and clinked their cups together.
Chanyeol bobbed his head. “I’m actually a little jealous.” Everyone looked at him. “What? I am! Lu Han’s a beautiful guy, right? Aren’t I right?”
Kyungsoo almost choked on his mouthful.
“Shut up, Yeollie,” said Baekhyun, nudging him in the side, and everyone laughed.
Everyone except Minseok.
Yes, he was beautiful. Too beautiful.
But he wasn’t there.
*
The weekend came and went. A Lu Han-free weekend.
When you spend a considerable amount of time with someone, even if it’s only in a short while, they make a noticeable mark on your existence; like an imprint on your skin. It doesn’t have to be deep or linger forever, but it’s still there for a while - enough for you to notice. Lu Han’s imprint remained on every inch of his body, teasing him with memories and possibilities. It was something he couldn’t ignore no matter how hard he tried to listen to his Monday morning lecture.
It became too difficult to resist in the end. He had to send him another message. Under his pathetic excuse for lecture notes, he typed only the following:
Hey, you okay? Your Baozi misses you ~ B
And waited.
But no matter how many times he looked at his phone, or how often he checked for signal, there was no reply.
It was as though he’d disappeared altogether.
What’s happened to you?
*
Days turned into nights, and nights back into days, and there was still no sign of a star in Minseok’s sky.
He didn’t want to be the needy one - the one that insisted on a phone call every other hour and stole every spare minute of the other half’s life and demanded constant attention - but things were starting to get more than a little disheartening.
Had he said something? Was that it? He tried replaying his and Lu Han’s last moments together but only ended up feeling a little sick from how flawless it had all been. What could he have possibly done wrong?
In the end, he decided to find the courage to ring him one more time - but that was easier said than done. He’d stare at his phone screen for minutes at a time, perhaps stupidly waiting for Lu Han to make the first move so he didn’t have to, and then spend a life-age tapping in his number. Of course, almost every time he’d get a few digits in and then delete the numbers in frustration. At one point he’d barely pressed call before he immediately hung up again. What was wrong with him?
Why was it suddenly so awkward just to speak to him?
He gritted his teeth. It’s just a phone call, he told himself. He was probably too busy to get back to you before. He’s a celebrity with a busy schedule; who knows what the company could be making him do. He obviously didn’t have time…
During the space of an entire week…
Minseok shook his head roughly. He couldn’t afford to think like that.
He sucked in a mouthful of oxygen and took the plunge, typing in his number again and putting the phone to his ear before the nerve escaped him.
His blood raced. It started to ring.
And ring.
Please answer. Just this once.
And ring.
Please.
And then the line went dead.
A lump rose in his throat.
Lu Han had purposely cancelled the call.
*
When another Friday night rolled around, it was a very subdued affair. There were no fancy suits or hair gel or guyliner involved, only a DVD and far too much chocolate than they could consume, although Minseok gave it a good damn try. Him and the others, those being Jongdae and Baekhyun, had gathered at Chanyeol’s place to relax and watch a film they’d seen a hundred times already.
Minseok’s eyes never really focussed on the images flashing across the screen. Instead, his gaze remained slightly off-centre and only saw pale blurs moving to the side of his vision. Chanyeol, too, seemed unable to concentrate has he remained transfixed to his mobile phone; probably Googling himself and the band or re-reading his favourite YouTube comments. Or both. Baekhyun was falling asleep on the floor as he leaned back against the drummer’s legs, mouth hanging open, and Jongdae seemed deep in thought, fiddling with chocolate wrappers between his fingers.
All was quiet and still.
Until Chanyeol suddenly gasped and everyone jumped.
Baekhyun clutched his chest. “You scared the hell outta me, Yeollie! What is it?”
“Nothing! I-…nothing.” But his eyes unmistakably flittered in Minseok’s direction.
“You can’t do something like that and then not tell us,” said Jongdae, rolling his eyes.
“But it’s about…you-know-who.”
Baekhyun scratched his head in confusion. “Voldemort?”
Chanyeol pinched at the back of his neck, his most sensitive spot, and he squirmed. “Not Voldemort, you idiot! Lu Han!”
Minseok couldn’t help but look up at the mention of his name. “Lu Han? What about him?”
Chanyeol gulped. “Well…the fans on Twitter are saying…he’s at Enigma. Again.”
Silence.
Baekhyun looked up. “Hyung? What do you want to do?”
Minseok and Jongdae exchanged a wordless conversation through mere glances and brief bobs of the head.
You want to go?
…I think so.
Is he worth it?
Yes.
Really?
Pause.
…Yes.
Jongdae nodded purposefully and leaned forward to pull his car keys out from his pocket. “Right, c’mon guys, we’ve got a star to catch!”
“Mission accepted!” yelled Chanyeol, patting Baekhyun on the shoulders.
As they all piled into Jongdae’s car, movie night forgotten, Minseok could feel the pressure building around him. He gave himself one last chance.
Just the one.
*
The streets were busy; bustling with many cars and bodies which made the journey last a lot longer than it should have done, although Minseok wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. On the one hand, he was determined to get to Enigma and set the record straight - he didn’t know how long he could go on not knowing what was happening. But on the other…what was he going to say? What was he going to do? He had no plan. Only a fool’s hope.
Jongdae parked a little away from the main street to avoid the crazy traffic and the group began the trek up the lonely back roads to the club. The entire time Minseok’s stomach was doing backflips; he wasn’t ready for this. At all.
They hit the end of the queue into the building and sped-walked up the street. It felt like they were filming for a scene of a movie, but the consequences of what would happen were very much real and not lines on a script that could be shot again and again. There were no re-takes in life.
As they approached the entrance, Jongdae put his hand on Minseok’s shoulder. “You want me to come in with you?”
“No…no, I’ll be alright.”
Minseok puffed out his chest and walked up to the bouncer waiting outside; the same bouncer he’d seen twice before.
“Name?”
“You have to let me through,” Minseok demanded a little more confidently than he actually was.
The man scowled and crossed his thick arms. “Name?”
“You’ve seen me before! I came here the other weekend! And the weekend before that!”
He tapped his clipboard. “If your name isn’t on the list, you have to wait at the back of the line.”
“You honestly don’t recognise me? I came with Lu Han! The Lu Han!”
“I see a lot of faces with my job, kid. You’re nothing special. Now get to the back of the line!”
His massive hands shoved at Minseok’s shoulders and sent him back in the direction of the group. Chanyeol was waving and flashing his signature smile at the fans in the queue that recognised him and, as Minseok approached, Baekhyun elbowed him in the stomach and his face was suddenly serious again.
“What are you going to do now?” asked Jongdae with concern.
Minseok bit his lip and pulled out his phone. By now he’d lost almost all thread of hope, but he kept clinging on with one last message.
I’m outside. Please come out and see me. One last time ~ B
“The only thing I can do,” Minseok replied. “Wait.”
*
The group settled on the curb and wrapped their arms around themselves to keep warm. Chanyeol and Baekhyun looked as though it literally pained them to not be socialising with the fans calling their names but they remained close to Minseok the entire time, suffering along with him.
After 10 or so minutes, Minseok huffed and looked about him. The phone, still in his grasp, hadn’t buzzed or beeped or shown any indication of a reply. That was nothing new. He was on the verge of considering giving up altogether, his dignity just about intact, when his eyes caught the sight of someone coming out of the club.
The last someone he wanted to see.
Jongin.
The dancer-turned-model strutted up to him with a blood-burning confidence and scanned him up and down. As Minseok went to stand, he only scoffed.
“Don’t get excited. I’m only here to save Lu Han the trouble of telling you to piss off.”
Strike one.
“…what?”
“You heard. He doesn’t want to see you.”
Strike two.
“But I just…I just want to talk to him-”
“Well, he obviously doesn’t want to talk to you, does he? Otherwise he’d be answering all those ridiculous calls and texts you keep bothering him with. You can’t say I didn’t warn you that this would happen. You should have listened to me.” Jongin walked closer only so he could look down his strong nose at Minseok and smirk. “So get the hint, dumpling-boy. He’s out of your league and thank fuck he’s finally realised that because…” His voice fell as low as a strained whisper. “…it was just embarrassing, you hear? Em-bar-ras-sing.”
Strike three.
Every syllable sliced at Minseok’s heart and, without even realising what he was doing, he grabbed a rough hold of Jongin’s collar with one hand and hurled the other as a clenched fist right across his chiselled, copper-tone face. The crunch of his knuckles colliding with the dancer’s cheekbones echoed throughout the crowd and everything went silent.
And his fingers wrung with a pain he’d never felt before, because he’d never actually hit anyone before.
Suddenly hands were grabbing his upper arms and pulling him back.
“Whoa! Whoa! Hyung!” Chanyeol’s deep voice reverberated behind him.
Jongdae had run to his side. “What are you playing at? You’re gonna get yourself arrested or something!”
But Minseok couldn’t care any less. Watching Jongin’s eye swell up as he knelt on the floor in agony and shock at what had happened to his beautiful face - in front of everyone, too - was worth any punishment they could throw at him. He could’ve taken on anything in that moment.
Almost anything.
“Jongin-ah!”
His heart dropped.
Lu Han had run out of the entrance, the other dancer close behind, and onto the ground by Jongin to help him up, fawning over his throbbing, damaged skin. Minseok watched as they stood up together and his insides burned at the sight of Lu Han’s touch grazing somebody else - and followed by him of all people.
Just looking at the star was agonizing, as though it shone too bright for his retinas to cope. He’d kissed those lips before and ran his fingers through that hair and touched almost every inch of that body and even nibbled on the end of that precious little nose once upon a time. Hardly any time at all had passed since then but it already felt like another life time ago.
And it hurt more than the bones in his hand ever could.
He swallowed hard and a voice he barely recognised as his own finally croaked, “…Lu Han?”
The star looked up, but it wasn’t the same star. The make-up was back, but thicker than ever. Minseok could barely see those beautiful eyes through all the layers of kohl. He was a lot darker than he’d been before; feathered wings dusted black in a steel-grey shirt and a façade of indifference. He barely even blinked when their gazes met, as though Minseok could have been anyone. Any stranger on the street. Any nameless face.
And he just walked away.
“IS THAT IT THEN, HUH?”
The words fell off Minseok's tongue in an angry rush and he didn’t regret it. It was enough to make Lu Han stop in his steps, foot still hanging half in the air. For a moment, Minseok though he’d change his mind and carry on his way, but he didn’t. He even turned back around, if excruciatingly slow.
Minseok threw his arms into the air. “That’s it? After everything? No goodbye. No excuses. No lies. Just no fucking answer?” He ran his hand angrily over his hair, preparing for the vomit of rage about to leave his lips. “I actually managed to convince myself that I meant more to you than that, y’know. I was an idiot, because I’m obviously not even worth an explanation! What did you do, wake up one morning and decide you didn’t want to bother with me any longer? Is that it? Was I not exciting enough for the high and mighty pop star anymore?”
There was a flicker, then - a flicker of emotion that crossed Lu Han’s new face if only for a fleeting moment. A slight twitch, but it was enough.
“You can’t just throw away people like that, Lu Han! It doesn’t work that way in real life!” Minseok was shouting now and people were watching, lots of people, and it didn’t faze him one bit. “It’s not right! It’s not fair! If you don’t want to be around me anymore then fine, I don’t blame you, but don’t just leave because I can’t take it!...But at least I know now, right?” He voice broke. “At least you don’t have to be embarrassed anymore.”
Lu Han’s lip began to wobble and his deer eyes watered so hard that a single tear escaped and ran down his cheek. He took a step forward-
Minseok flung out his hand. “No, no , you can’t pull that shit on me! Not now! You made your decision when you turned your back on me just then. No.”
“Baozi…”
“It’s MINSEOK! My name is Kim MINSEOK! Dammit, at least do me the honour of remembering my fucking name!”
He turned his back on the star he once knew and returned to his friends. His loyal friends.
“Take me home. Please.”
Jongdae nodded meekly and the two walked off together, defeated, with Chanyeol and Baekhyun following behind.
*
Nobody said another word the whole way back to his apartment.
Nobody dared.
The car slowed and Minseok unclicked his seatbelt as Jongdae braved the first words.
“If you need anyone to talk to…you know where we are. Okay?”
Minseok didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He pushed his numb body out of his seat and slammed the door behind him, dragging his feet only slightly as he walked away. The car disappeared down the road taking his only link to sanity with it.
His eyes fell on the fanboard.
Without even thinking about what he was doing, he lunged forward and raked his fingers over the bricks, dragging the poster with it. Every ounce of strength he had left he focused on shredding each and every inch of paper his touch could find. The edges of the photos sliced his skin but he continued to tear at them, one by one, until he couldn’t feel anymore.
As the pieces scattered out of his hands across the concrete, he sent a silent prayer to the wind to carry them far away.
Far, far away.
And once he’d thrown his body down onto his bed, all he could do was lie there and cradle the gaping void where his heart should be.
*
He woke to the vibrating of his phone.
At first he thought he was dreaming, but the continuous buzzing by his thigh was enough to snap him into reality eventually. He fished it out of his tight jeans pocket and, rubbing his sore eyes, read across the screen.
It was a Seoul number, but he didn’t recognise it.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Mr Kim Minseok?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“Sir, this is Seoul National University Hospital. We have a patient here by the name of Mr Lu Han in critical condition and we believe it is imperative that you come down here immediately.
Sir?
Mr Kim? Hello?”
Minseok was already out of the door.
*
Outside, there was no sound; only the blood pumping in his ears as his feet slammed into the ground, chest aching, and a single thought playing constantly in his mind.
Get to the hospital. Just get to the hospital.
The taxi had barely stopped outside when Minseok threw all the money he could grab from his wallet at the driver and leaped from the still-moving vehicle. He would feel the impact of his skin on the concrete another day, in another life. Not today.
The vultures were already gathering outside, beating their decaying wings against the glass, desperate for a fresh carcass to tear at. Minseok managed to fly past their talons and cameras without being noticed and slipped as a blur through the automatic doors.
Inside was a clinical maze of corridors and strange faces and voices he didn’t care to hear, and when the white coat paused outside a random room, he could barely dare to look through the glass. Perhaps it wasn’t him, he thought. Perhaps they found the wrong guy. A lookalike, maybe.
But there was no mistaking that face, lying silent and motionless.
Lu Han.
No.
He looked like a doll; a pale, sleeping doll with long wires and tubes coming out of his frail skin that shone so white under the harsh lights, and veins that glowed in a blue hue. A bandage clung helplessly to the side of his head, stained red. Some of the make-up survived - though, through the smudges, there were clear stripes leading down from his eyes to his chin. Why were you crying?
A maid found him at the bottom of some stairs, they said. At a hotel in the city, all alone, they said. He lost a lot of blood and slipped into a comatose state due to his head injuries, they said.
They said a lot of things, too many things; but barely any of it really sank into Minseok’s head, because that would mean admitting if he took the star into his empty arms, he wouldn’t hold him back. No fingers would stroke his face, no lips would kiss his in return, no soft, melodic voice would whisper into his ear that he was his.
Because stars can’t talk if they’re sleeping.
A doctor pushed a slip of crinkled paper into his hands; something they found tucked into Lu Han’s wallet. He unfolded it with shaking limbs and scrawled on one side read:
In case of emergency - call Kim Minseok.
Not Baozi.
Kim Minseok.
And then his mobile number was scribbled underneath.
Nobody writes a note like that without expecting the worst.
It wasn’t the first time Minseok’s cracked, stiff lips had trouble forming the words: What have you done to yourself? Dammit, how did you know this would happen? What were you doing alone? Do you have any idea how much it pains me to see you this way? Or the things I would do to re-live the entire night all over again?
But most importantly of all: Was it my cutting words that put you here?
He couldn’t take it anymore. Minseok fell on to his knees, gripping the bed in agony as the guilt sawed at every strip of sinew that held his soul together. He should have known, he should have seen it. He was aware, more than anyone, that the cracks don’t have to shine on the surface for something to have shattered inside, and he'd heard the pieces crack and rattle under that beautiful face he screamed at.
And now there was only a baozi and his fallen star; wings bent and broken.
Minseok took Lu Han’s hand into his own, clinging to it so tight and bringing it up to his lips now wet with tears. It was cold. Cold and still, like ice.
His touch said it all: no words, one action.
Wake up for me. Wake up and I will make it all right again.
Please.
Wake up.
It was a long way to fall from the nebulas above.
It must have hurt.
{ Intermission II }