[Oneshot] Fine Line
Title: Fine Line
Character: Changmin POV; OT5 (Yoosu, Yunjae if you look close enough :])
Length: Oneshot
Rating/Genre: G
Summary: When the weight of a name is too much to bear
A/N: I'm sorry for this since it's kinda all over the place. I wrote this based on my own experience. Biking around the Han is extremely therapeutic. Will update 'Lost Boys' soon. Poem lines taken from William Blake's Augeries of Innocence
For chloe1910, whom I made a promise to. :D
---
Fine Line
Every night
It’s December when they find themselves back in Seoul (to rest, Manager hyung had said, which Changmin is still skeptical about; rest days are so easily taken away in the same way that they are so difficult to obtain), heads spinning from the constant flights and climate changes, not quite knowing which way is up or down, and grimacing at how the sudden cold that bites into their skin suddenly feels so foreign it’s unsettling.
Their old apartment welcomes them back with the warmth and coziness of a pair of worn-in sneakers (despite the frigid early morning cold they have to endure for the first few minutes) and automatically, each of Changmin’s hyungs claims a private sanctuary the moment they step inside: Jaejoong heads for the bedroom, sparse luggage in tow, possibly to ease the headache that’s been plaguing him since Tokyo; Junsu shuts one of the bathroom’s doors behind him and the sound of water filling the Jacuzzi tub echoes throughout the halls; Yunho stretches his long self onto the sofa and falls asleep immediately, one arm over his eyes to block out the living room’s offending overhead light (Changmin turns it off for him); and Yoochun eats a bowl of ramyeon, still half-cooked though piping-hot, from a ready-to-eat package scavenged from the cupboard, at the kitchen table, his shoulders slumped and his chopsticks clacking tiredly in the silence of the apartment. He offers some to Changmin who shakes his head, not because he isn’t hungry but because he is just so tired.
“I’ve forgotten how cold it gets in Seoul,” Yoochun shivers and sniffs, rubbing at his eyes. There’s a hint of melancholy in his tone.
“How long are we going to stay this time?” Changmin has his face cupped in his hands, his fingers slowly massaging his temples. Already he can feel a headache forming. Yoochun answers with a tentative shrug and an “I doubt it’ll be for very long though” before slurping a handful of noodles into his mouth, and Changmin nods in a resigned sort of way. It’s the way it’s always been.
and every morn
They all wake up that same day in the early afternoon, and Changmin finds himself giving a small smile at the golden sunlight that spills into their room, basking in its warmth and familiarity for several moments before forcing himself to get out of bed (not because he wants to but because he has to). Everyone is up and shuffling around the apartment. More than once he passes by Jaejoong or Junsu in the halls, and the look of sheer exhaustion in their eyes almost makes him look away. When Yunho gathers them in the living room to inform them of their upcoming schedule, no one is surprised when the leader stops in mid-sentence (“…and tomorrow we go back to Japan…”), heaves a deep sigh of long-suffering, and pinches the bridge of his nose. One hand finds its way down his back and Changmin watches as Yunho rubs gently. Another hand (Jaejoong’s, he presumes, he can’t tell from where he is at the moment) joins in, fingers moving in slow rhythmic circles.
“Isn’t a day off supposed to feel like a day off?” he wonders aloud.
“I feel like a fish in a bowl,” Yoochun comments dryly. No one contradicts him.
some to misery are born
It starts out as a wild suggestion.
“It’s such a beautiful day,” Junsu sighs, looking wistfully at the busy busy city below them through one of the windows; the sunlight turns the buildings goldenrod and bronze, the roofs of the cars amber and burgundy. “When we were younger, Junho and I would usually go biking, chasing each other…”
His voice trails off, and his head bows. His fingerprints stain the glass, blurring the almost surreal view of a clear cotton sky. Changmin hugs his knees, releasing a pent-up sigh gustily from his chest.
“We could go biking,” he says, licking his lips. A frayed memory of childish laughter and bicycle bells ring through his head: his sisters, chasing him as he zoomed past the riverbank, sun in their hair, the world in their smiles. It’s a stupid idea, but he gives it a try anyway. “I don’t know if you guys have tried it but the Han is very beautiful in the afternoons.”
He feels as four pairs of eyes throw him glances from different parts of the room.
“It’s winter, Changmin-ah,” says Jaejoong gently, as if trying to remind him. “We’ll freeze.”
“Not only that, we’ll have fans to worry about; it’s broad daylight,” Yoochun adds almost bitterly, flopping into the seat beside Changmin, his face creased in what Changmin perceives as a disappointed frown. “It’s too complicated. We might end up going to jail for causing a riot or something.” He opens his mouth to dismiss the idea, ready with the excuse that it was crazy enough to begin with anyway (although he’d ultimately rather be mauled by fangirls or freeze to death than rot inside their apartment, all the while contemplating on how tired and miserable they all are; times like these he can’t help but wonder if everything is really worth it, if the weight of their name is really laudable enough to bear), but Yunho interrupts him.
“No one is going to be out because it’s too cold.” He’s looking at the floor, as if he’s thinking and deciding at the same time. When he looks up, Changmin sees a rare gleam in his eye. “And the Han is too big. No one would be able to know…”
Junsu shoots up as though something inside of him has been lit, his eyes bright. He leaps from his space by the window (Changmin ducks; who knew Junsu could jump that far and high?) and runs towards their bedroom, almost tripping over the rug and knocking over Jaejoong, who’s poised by the doorway shooting Yunho an incredulous look, in the process.
“I’ll get my coat!” he squeals excitedly, his footsteps drowning out the last few syllables, leaving no space for them to say anything else.
Every morn
The bicycles the ahjussi is renting are colored apple green and have baskets that sit at the front. Both Yoochun and Jaejoong balk at the sight of it (whether it’s the color or the basket, Changmin is not quite sure) but have no choice but to get on one when Junsu propels himself onto the nearest one with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old as Yunho digs into his pockets to hand the ahjussi two bills, still crisp from their earlier transaction at the bank. Changmin feels a small spring of excitement bubble inside of him as the ahjussi doesn’t even spare them a second look, almost barks at Yunho to hand him an ID so they could be sure they’d return the bikes and grumbles about crazy kids running around in ridiculous weather. He’s been worrying that they won’t blend in, that people would have some sort of alarm to tell them they’re there, on their own, as themselves. His fears are put to rest as the ahjussi steps out of his heated stand to look for a bigger bike for him and Yunho, grumbling about how crazy it is that kids grow up so ridiculously tall nowadays.
He recalls his own bike (blue, not apple green, thank you very much), now safely tucked away in storage or perhaps given to one of his sisters, and grips the handlebars of the one he now sits on, his palms easily curling around the worn rubber. His laughs come easily (the easiest in months) as Yunho almost topples off his own bicycle as he attempts to balance, his height now more a liability to him than an asset. Beside him, Yoochun and Junsu are buttoning and zippering their coats and pulling up hoods. Jaejoong hisses at him to do the same (“Don’t be an idiot! It’s too cold!”) and Changmin complies with a smile.
Despite his previous hesitance (and the amount of clothing he has on), Jaejoong manages to start a race and leads it, his smile wide and his legs pedaling like a madman’s. Changmin and Yoochun refuse to be beat and attempt to speed up. The wind is ice-cold and harshly whips through their hair and claws at any part of them that’s exposed, but it’s worth it as Changmin notices that Yoochun’s frown has faded, overthrown by glee that’s now evident on his face. Behind them he can hear Junsu singing out loud about rivers (“Haaann River…wider than a mile…I’m crossing you in style someday…”) and Yunho giving out a distracted “Be careful” as he surveys the sight of the Han being bathed in the glow of the afternoon.
“Too slow, Minnie-yah!” Yoochun cries triumphantly as he, with obvious effort, manages to overtake him. Jaejoong has faded into a fast-disappearing speck in the distance, still oblivious to his large lead. He follows them down dirt paths and under bridges, laughs and yells as loudly as he can just because and halts by the playground when he sees Jaejoong perched on the top of the jungle gym, his bike haplessly abandoned at the side.
“Hyung!” he says, amused at the sight of Jaejoong and his legs dangling in empty air. “Aren’t you a little too old for that?”
“You’re never too old for anything, Minnie-yah,” the older boy says, and as though demonstrating, hangs himself upside-down from one of the top bars by his legs.
A flash from somewhere, then a round of gleeful laughter: Yoochun has taken a picture. Jaejoong cries out in protest (“Yah! Park Yoochun! My bellybutton could be seen in that!”) and Changmin claps his hands. Yunho and Junsu join them and eventually four of them are on the jungle gym with Yunho left on the ground due to his back.
“Yah! Yoochun! Changmin! No roughhousing! You guys could fall!” Changmin hears from below amidst Yoochun’s giggles. Beside him, Junsu is swinging himself back and forth like a monkey and Jaejoong on the topmost portion has lapsed into silence, quietly observing the sun’s slow descent into the horizon. He feels sorry for Yunho and urges everyone to go down. He lands with a soft thump on the dirt, but feigns surprise as three bodies land heavily on top of him.
“YAH~!”
They’re a mess of arms and legs and Yunho, laughing, carefully positions himself on top. From somewhere Junsu tickles his sides (“Tickle tickle, Changmin-ah!”) and he writhes and wriggles, destroying the carefully wrought pyramid they’ve formed, and gasps Junsu’s name over and over again. Yoochun smacks him on the back of his head.
“Yah! We’re in public, Changmin-ah! Do you want people to get the wrong idea?”
And for the first time in a very very long while, honest-to-goodness laughter rings out from all sides.
and every night
They park the bikes in a messy line by the riverbank. There are wooden benches overlooking the water and the northern part of Seoul, and upon Jaejoong’s orders, Yunho and Changmin empty their pockets of change and purchase cans of warm milk tea and coffee from a nearby store, while Junsu and Yoochun are assigned to buy fish cakes, corndogs, and tteokbuki from a sidewalk street vendor. A mistake, because the street vendor is too far away and both return with plastic bags leaking of spicy red sauce, giggling haplessly as they attempt to flick the mess onto each other’s clothes. Changmin rolls his eyes at the sight and is glad as Jaejoong confiscates the food from them with a loud huff.
They huddle in a tight semi-circle on the withered grass (because the bench is too cold to sit on), and Junsu giggles as several highschool kids pass without even bothering to spare them a look.
“Stop giggling, Junsu-yah, your coffee is spilling!”
“We could easily call them over…after all it’s not every day that you’re able to encounter Dong Bang Shin Ki…”
“Shut up, Su, you’re so conceited.”
“As if you’re not dying to know whom they like best, Jaejoong hyung.”
“They probably think we’re a bunch of weirdoes. Did you see how they avoided us?”
“Speak for yourself, Yoochun hyung.”
A phone rings and Yunho fishes his out of his pocket, balancing precariously the can of half-finished tea and a plate brimming full of red sauce in one hand. Changmin looks over and sees Manager hyung’s name on the LCD. He casts a wary glance at Yunho who stares at the phone as though it were a thing that had fallen from outer space, for a tense second.
“Yunho-yah…” Jaejoong looks worried and so does Junsu and Yoochun. Changmin knows it won’t take much for them to be shepherded back into the car and into the apartment and his heart sinks. An impromptu rehearsal, or a forgotten meeting-
“I’m sleeping.” Yunho says finally before pocketing the phone. A knowing grin creeps onto his face. “We all are.”
And, just like that, the smiles return.
Some are born
Before the sun fully sets and their precious hour finishes, they circle around the area once more. Yoochun does wheelies and rears his bike up, nearly causing it to topple and consequently makes him earn disapproving looks from Yunho. Jaejoong insists on racing, promising rewards of jajang myun or jjiggae if he’s beat. At one point, Changmin dares to let go of the handlebars and pedals fast enough for him to fool himself that he’s flying. It lasts for a few precious seconds before his bike’s front wheel takes a sharp turn and he ends up nearly breaking his neck. (“YAH Yoochun! Look what you made the baby do!” Yunho yells).
There’s a small patch of land by the riverside that’s dotted with daisies and baby’s breath. Junsu squeals in delight and screeches to a halt, demanding to have pictures taken. With pretentious hesitance, Changmin watches as one by one his hyungs comply, first Jaejoong, then Yoochun, then Yunho, but pretty soon they’re romping about, shouting and pushing through the tall grass. Jaejoong hides among the chest-high reeds and grabs random people by the waist, attempting to frighten them out of their wits (Changmin however notices Yunho’s rather large smile when it’s his turn to be caught). Yoochun pretends to be a zombie from Children of the Corn and chases a squeaking Junsu. Changmin picks daises and baby’s breath as he used to do as a child and hands a fistful to Jaejoong (“For Umma’s kitchen,” he says).
They pass the camera from person to person, taking random stolen shots of each other: Yunho looking up at the dying afternoon sky with a satisfied smile on his face; Jaejoong wearing a crown of weeds in his hair; Yoochun tucking flowers into Changmin’s hair (much to Changmin’s great annoyance); Junsu crouched down behind the tall grass, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting Jaejoong.
It’s Jaejoong who checks his watch. “Our hour’s almost up,” he says, looking more than a tad disappointed and Changmin feels as the smile that had been on his face constricts into a line.
“Noooo!” Yoochun and Junsu say simultaneously. They pout like children, which makes Changmin laugh once more and he raises the camera to take a picture. “Hyung! Can’t we stay? Ten more minutes!”
Yunho tuts and starts collecting the bikes, hands each to their respective riders (“Yah, it’s my ID that was left with the ahjussi.”), and Yoochun and Junsu, complete with upside down smiles, follow. The ache inside of Changmin that he’s been feeling since Tokyo returns as he follows his hyungs back to the bike stand. The ahjussi is waiting and he watches as Yunho returns the stub, claims his ID card and makes sure the bikes are put back in their proper places. He wants to throw a tantrum and yell like a petulant child; he doesn’t want to go home. Home is only a step away back to Japan, back to a world he’s never fully grasped, a language he’s never mastered, back to work, work, work. A tight feeling settles in his chest and he sighs.
Around him, dusk settles into the city like a slow covering blanket, declaring the glorious afternoon that had been as dead as he feels.
to sweet delight.
In the evening, Changmin moves the pictures from the camera to his laptop. When the bedroom door opens it stays open, and his hyungs trickle in one by one, fed up with their various activities around the house, and fill up the space that surrounds him. (Jaejoong and Yunho on his right-the cologne is unmistakable and so is the shape of Jaejoong’s cold feet against his-and Yoochun and Junsu on his left).They sit patiently as Changmin views each picture, oohing and aahing, pointing and jeering at their various poses and expressions. Comments are plenty, especially those concerning blackmail (“Junsu, you’ll absolutely die if I get my hands on that…”), but so are comebacks (“There’s a picture here that shows your big forehead, Yoochun hyung.”). Changmin views each one with utmost patience, relishing the laughter that surrounds him and that has been scarce the past few months.
“Changmin-ah.” Yoochun shifts and Changmin kicks Jaejoong’s feet just because. “Thank you for your brilliant idea. I don’t think I’ve had a better day off.” Another picture is enlarged, this time of an emo-looking Yunho. There are several grunts of agreement (“Even though muscles I never knew I had are killing me at the moment,” Jaejoong says). Another picture. This time of the river at dusk, just before they had boarded the car to go, where light and dark had fought to take possession of the skies.
It had only lasted for a little more than an hour, that moment of normalcy and peace, their sudden snatching of time, when they were just Yoochun, Yunho, Changmin, Junsu, and Jaejoong and not Dong Bang Shin Ki; just boys having fun like they’re supposed to, and not professionals being stretched too thin, being told to do too much with too little time. Changmin suddenly doesn’t feel immortal anymore.
“I’m sorry it couldn’t last,” he says, actually feeling apologetic, although he doesn’t really know why. Junsu sits up and moves in to cuddle, murmuring words of comfort (“Nothing lasts, Minnie, but it’s always good to live the moment”) and petting him. The room lapses into silence, and Changmin expects someone to start another of their “I wish-” conversations which are only reserved for especially emotional moments. He is surprised therefore when a pillow suddenly takes flight, and Yoochun lets out a battle cry and Junsu has disappeared, leaving a trail of giggles, as he jumps onto Changmin’s bed and attempts to disappear under the comforter.
“YAH! Kim Junsu! I’ll show you how living the moment feels like! Prepare to die!”
He is pulled to his feet, and the laptop is set aside to protect it from damage. “No time to wallow in emotions, Minnie!” Yunho says as pillows rain on top of them. “FIGHT!” and in no time at all he’s jumping on beds with them, spilling sheets and comforters onto the floor and hoarding pillows and various soft projectiles he can reach (Bambi being one of them, much to Yunho’s dismay), the tiredness gone from his legs and the heaviness lifting from his shoulders as laughter spills out from his heart and up to his throat. In the end they collapse onto Junsu’s bed, their chests heaving in pants and their knees trembling with fatigue.
“We may not have forever,” Jaejoong says in a voice that’s as tired as a whisper, “but we have now. And we have us. That’s what we’ll always have.” A fist is raised.
“SuChunJaeMinHo Hwaiting.” Yunho says, not faltering even with the sudden introduction of their hybrid name. “Dong Bang Shin Ki Hwaiting.”
“Hwaiting,” they echo, and with his chest now light and his emotions no longer taut and frayed, Changmin can’t agree more.
Tomorrow is another day.
END.
Character: Changmin POV; OT5 (Yoosu, Yunjae if you look close enough :])
Length: Oneshot
Rating/Genre: G
Summary: When the weight of a name is too much to bear
A/N: I'm sorry for this since it's kinda all over the place. I wrote this based on my own experience. Biking around the Han is extremely therapeutic. Will update 'Lost Boys' soon. Poem lines taken from William Blake's Augeries of Innocence
For chloe1910, whom I made a promise to. :D
---
Fine Line
Every night
It’s December when they find themselves back in Seoul (to rest, Manager hyung had said, which Changmin is still skeptical about; rest days are so easily taken away in the same way that they are so difficult to obtain), heads spinning from the constant flights and climate changes, not quite knowing which way is up or down, and grimacing at how the sudden cold that bites into their skin suddenly feels so foreign it’s unsettling.
Their old apartment welcomes them back with the warmth and coziness of a pair of worn-in sneakers (despite the frigid early morning cold they have to endure for the first few minutes) and automatically, each of Changmin’s hyungs claims a private sanctuary the moment they step inside: Jaejoong heads for the bedroom, sparse luggage in tow, possibly to ease the headache that’s been plaguing him since Tokyo; Junsu shuts one of the bathroom’s doors behind him and the sound of water filling the Jacuzzi tub echoes throughout the halls; Yunho stretches his long self onto the sofa and falls asleep immediately, one arm over his eyes to block out the living room’s offending overhead light (Changmin turns it off for him); and Yoochun eats a bowl of ramyeon, still half-cooked though piping-hot, from a ready-to-eat package scavenged from the cupboard, at the kitchen table, his shoulders slumped and his chopsticks clacking tiredly in the silence of the apartment. He offers some to Changmin who shakes his head, not because he isn’t hungry but because he is just so tired.
“I’ve forgotten how cold it gets in Seoul,” Yoochun shivers and sniffs, rubbing at his eyes. There’s a hint of melancholy in his tone.
“How long are we going to stay this time?” Changmin has his face cupped in his hands, his fingers slowly massaging his temples. Already he can feel a headache forming. Yoochun answers with a tentative shrug and an “I doubt it’ll be for very long though” before slurping a handful of noodles into his mouth, and Changmin nods in a resigned sort of way. It’s the way it’s always been.
and every morn
They all wake up that same day in the early afternoon, and Changmin finds himself giving a small smile at the golden sunlight that spills into their room, basking in its warmth and familiarity for several moments before forcing himself to get out of bed (not because he wants to but because he has to). Everyone is up and shuffling around the apartment. More than once he passes by Jaejoong or Junsu in the halls, and the look of sheer exhaustion in their eyes almost makes him look away. When Yunho gathers them in the living room to inform them of their upcoming schedule, no one is surprised when the leader stops in mid-sentence (“…and tomorrow we go back to Japan…”), heaves a deep sigh of long-suffering, and pinches the bridge of his nose. One hand finds its way down his back and Changmin watches as Yunho rubs gently. Another hand (Jaejoong’s, he presumes, he can’t tell from where he is at the moment) joins in, fingers moving in slow rhythmic circles.
“Isn’t a day off supposed to feel like a day off?” he wonders aloud.
“I feel like a fish in a bowl,” Yoochun comments dryly. No one contradicts him.
some to misery are born
It starts out as a wild suggestion.
“It’s such a beautiful day,” Junsu sighs, looking wistfully at the busy busy city below them through one of the windows; the sunlight turns the buildings goldenrod and bronze, the roofs of the cars amber and burgundy. “When we were younger, Junho and I would usually go biking, chasing each other…”
His voice trails off, and his head bows. His fingerprints stain the glass, blurring the almost surreal view of a clear cotton sky. Changmin hugs his knees, releasing a pent-up sigh gustily from his chest.
“We could go biking,” he says, licking his lips. A frayed memory of childish laughter and bicycle bells ring through his head: his sisters, chasing him as he zoomed past the riverbank, sun in their hair, the world in their smiles. It’s a stupid idea, but he gives it a try anyway. “I don’t know if you guys have tried it but the Han is very beautiful in the afternoons.”
He feels as four pairs of eyes throw him glances from different parts of the room.
“It’s winter, Changmin-ah,” says Jaejoong gently, as if trying to remind him. “We’ll freeze.”
“Not only that, we’ll have fans to worry about; it’s broad daylight,” Yoochun adds almost bitterly, flopping into the seat beside Changmin, his face creased in what Changmin perceives as a disappointed frown. “It’s too complicated. We might end up going to jail for causing a riot or something.” He opens his mouth to dismiss the idea, ready with the excuse that it was crazy enough to begin with anyway (although he’d ultimately rather be mauled by fangirls or freeze to death than rot inside their apartment, all the while contemplating on how tired and miserable they all are; times like these he can’t help but wonder if everything is really worth it, if the weight of their name is really laudable enough to bear), but Yunho interrupts him.
“No one is going to be out because it’s too cold.” He’s looking at the floor, as if he’s thinking and deciding at the same time. When he looks up, Changmin sees a rare gleam in his eye. “And the Han is too big. No one would be able to know…”
Junsu shoots up as though something inside of him has been lit, his eyes bright. He leaps from his space by the window (Changmin ducks; who knew Junsu could jump that far and high?) and runs towards their bedroom, almost tripping over the rug and knocking over Jaejoong, who’s poised by the doorway shooting Yunho an incredulous look, in the process.
“I’ll get my coat!” he squeals excitedly, his footsteps drowning out the last few syllables, leaving no space for them to say anything else.
Every morn
The bicycles the ahjussi is renting are colored apple green and have baskets that sit at the front. Both Yoochun and Jaejoong balk at the sight of it (whether it’s the color or the basket, Changmin is not quite sure) but have no choice but to get on one when Junsu propels himself onto the nearest one with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old as Yunho digs into his pockets to hand the ahjussi two bills, still crisp from their earlier transaction at the bank. Changmin feels a small spring of excitement bubble inside of him as the ahjussi doesn’t even spare them a second look, almost barks at Yunho to hand him an ID so they could be sure they’d return the bikes and grumbles about crazy kids running around in ridiculous weather. He’s been worrying that they won’t blend in, that people would have some sort of alarm to tell them they’re there, on their own, as themselves. His fears are put to rest as the ahjussi steps out of his heated stand to look for a bigger bike for him and Yunho, grumbling about how crazy it is that kids grow up so ridiculously tall nowadays.
He recalls his own bike (blue, not apple green, thank you very much), now safely tucked away in storage or perhaps given to one of his sisters, and grips the handlebars of the one he now sits on, his palms easily curling around the worn rubber. His laughs come easily (the easiest in months) as Yunho almost topples off his own bicycle as he attempts to balance, his height now more a liability to him than an asset. Beside him, Yoochun and Junsu are buttoning and zippering their coats and pulling up hoods. Jaejoong hisses at him to do the same (“Don’t be an idiot! It’s too cold!”) and Changmin complies with a smile.
Despite his previous hesitance (and the amount of clothing he has on), Jaejoong manages to start a race and leads it, his smile wide and his legs pedaling like a madman’s. Changmin and Yoochun refuse to be beat and attempt to speed up. The wind is ice-cold and harshly whips through their hair and claws at any part of them that’s exposed, but it’s worth it as Changmin notices that Yoochun’s frown has faded, overthrown by glee that’s now evident on his face. Behind them he can hear Junsu singing out loud about rivers (“Haaann River…wider than a mile…I’m crossing you in style someday…”) and Yunho giving out a distracted “Be careful” as he surveys the sight of the Han being bathed in the glow of the afternoon.
“Too slow, Minnie-yah!” Yoochun cries triumphantly as he, with obvious effort, manages to overtake him. Jaejoong has faded into a fast-disappearing speck in the distance, still oblivious to his large lead. He follows them down dirt paths and under bridges, laughs and yells as loudly as he can just because and halts by the playground when he sees Jaejoong perched on the top of the jungle gym, his bike haplessly abandoned at the side.
“Hyung!” he says, amused at the sight of Jaejoong and his legs dangling in empty air. “Aren’t you a little too old for that?”
“You’re never too old for anything, Minnie-yah,” the older boy says, and as though demonstrating, hangs himself upside-down from one of the top bars by his legs.
A flash from somewhere, then a round of gleeful laughter: Yoochun has taken a picture. Jaejoong cries out in protest (“Yah! Park Yoochun! My bellybutton could be seen in that!”) and Changmin claps his hands. Yunho and Junsu join them and eventually four of them are on the jungle gym with Yunho left on the ground due to his back.
“Yah! Yoochun! Changmin! No roughhousing! You guys could fall!” Changmin hears from below amidst Yoochun’s giggles. Beside him, Junsu is swinging himself back and forth like a monkey and Jaejoong on the topmost portion has lapsed into silence, quietly observing the sun’s slow descent into the horizon. He feels sorry for Yunho and urges everyone to go down. He lands with a soft thump on the dirt, but feigns surprise as three bodies land heavily on top of him.
“YAH~!”
They’re a mess of arms and legs and Yunho, laughing, carefully positions himself on top. From somewhere Junsu tickles his sides (“Tickle tickle, Changmin-ah!”) and he writhes and wriggles, destroying the carefully wrought pyramid they’ve formed, and gasps Junsu’s name over and over again. Yoochun smacks him on the back of his head.
“Yah! We’re in public, Changmin-ah! Do you want people to get the wrong idea?”
And for the first time in a very very long while, honest-to-goodness laughter rings out from all sides.
and every night
They park the bikes in a messy line by the riverbank. There are wooden benches overlooking the water and the northern part of Seoul, and upon Jaejoong’s orders, Yunho and Changmin empty their pockets of change and purchase cans of warm milk tea and coffee from a nearby store, while Junsu and Yoochun are assigned to buy fish cakes, corndogs, and tteokbuki from a sidewalk street vendor. A mistake, because the street vendor is too far away and both return with plastic bags leaking of spicy red sauce, giggling haplessly as they attempt to flick the mess onto each other’s clothes. Changmin rolls his eyes at the sight and is glad as Jaejoong confiscates the food from them with a loud huff.
They huddle in a tight semi-circle on the withered grass (because the bench is too cold to sit on), and Junsu giggles as several highschool kids pass without even bothering to spare them a look.
“Stop giggling, Junsu-yah, your coffee is spilling!”
“We could easily call them over…after all it’s not every day that you’re able to encounter Dong Bang Shin Ki…”
“Shut up, Su, you’re so conceited.”
“As if you’re not dying to know whom they like best, Jaejoong hyung.”
“They probably think we’re a bunch of weirdoes. Did you see how they avoided us?”
“Speak for yourself, Yoochun hyung.”
A phone rings and Yunho fishes his out of his pocket, balancing precariously the can of half-finished tea and a plate brimming full of red sauce in one hand. Changmin looks over and sees Manager hyung’s name on the LCD. He casts a wary glance at Yunho who stares at the phone as though it were a thing that had fallen from outer space, for a tense second.
“Yunho-yah…” Jaejoong looks worried and so does Junsu and Yoochun. Changmin knows it won’t take much for them to be shepherded back into the car and into the apartment and his heart sinks. An impromptu rehearsal, or a forgotten meeting-
“I’m sleeping.” Yunho says finally before pocketing the phone. A knowing grin creeps onto his face. “We all are.”
And, just like that, the smiles return.
Some are born
Before the sun fully sets and their precious hour finishes, they circle around the area once more. Yoochun does wheelies and rears his bike up, nearly causing it to topple and consequently makes him earn disapproving looks from Yunho. Jaejoong insists on racing, promising rewards of jajang myun or jjiggae if he’s beat. At one point, Changmin dares to let go of the handlebars and pedals fast enough for him to fool himself that he’s flying. It lasts for a few precious seconds before his bike’s front wheel takes a sharp turn and he ends up nearly breaking his neck. (“YAH Yoochun! Look what you made the baby do!” Yunho yells).
There’s a small patch of land by the riverside that’s dotted with daisies and baby’s breath. Junsu squeals in delight and screeches to a halt, demanding to have pictures taken. With pretentious hesitance, Changmin watches as one by one his hyungs comply, first Jaejoong, then Yoochun, then Yunho, but pretty soon they’re romping about, shouting and pushing through the tall grass. Jaejoong hides among the chest-high reeds and grabs random people by the waist, attempting to frighten them out of their wits (Changmin however notices Yunho’s rather large smile when it’s his turn to be caught). Yoochun pretends to be a zombie from Children of the Corn and chases a squeaking Junsu. Changmin picks daises and baby’s breath as he used to do as a child and hands a fistful to Jaejoong (“For Umma’s kitchen,” he says).
They pass the camera from person to person, taking random stolen shots of each other: Yunho looking up at the dying afternoon sky with a satisfied smile on his face; Jaejoong wearing a crown of weeds in his hair; Yoochun tucking flowers into Changmin’s hair (much to Changmin’s great annoyance); Junsu crouched down behind the tall grass, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting Jaejoong.
It’s Jaejoong who checks his watch. “Our hour’s almost up,” he says, looking more than a tad disappointed and Changmin feels as the smile that had been on his face constricts into a line.
“Noooo!” Yoochun and Junsu say simultaneously. They pout like children, which makes Changmin laugh once more and he raises the camera to take a picture. “Hyung! Can’t we stay? Ten more minutes!”
Yunho tuts and starts collecting the bikes, hands each to their respective riders (“Yah, it’s my ID that was left with the ahjussi.”), and Yoochun and Junsu, complete with upside down smiles, follow. The ache inside of Changmin that he’s been feeling since Tokyo returns as he follows his hyungs back to the bike stand. The ahjussi is waiting and he watches as Yunho returns the stub, claims his ID card and makes sure the bikes are put back in their proper places. He wants to throw a tantrum and yell like a petulant child; he doesn’t want to go home. Home is only a step away back to Japan, back to a world he’s never fully grasped, a language he’s never mastered, back to work, work, work. A tight feeling settles in his chest and he sighs.
Around him, dusk settles into the city like a slow covering blanket, declaring the glorious afternoon that had been as dead as he feels.
to sweet delight.
In the evening, Changmin moves the pictures from the camera to his laptop. When the bedroom door opens it stays open, and his hyungs trickle in one by one, fed up with their various activities around the house, and fill up the space that surrounds him. (Jaejoong and Yunho on his right-the cologne is unmistakable and so is the shape of Jaejoong’s cold feet against his-and Yoochun and Junsu on his left).They sit patiently as Changmin views each picture, oohing and aahing, pointing and jeering at their various poses and expressions. Comments are plenty, especially those concerning blackmail (“Junsu, you’ll absolutely die if I get my hands on that…”), but so are comebacks (“There’s a picture here that shows your big forehead, Yoochun hyung.”). Changmin views each one with utmost patience, relishing the laughter that surrounds him and that has been scarce the past few months.
“Changmin-ah.” Yoochun shifts and Changmin kicks Jaejoong’s feet just because. “Thank you for your brilliant idea. I don’t think I’ve had a better day off.” Another picture is enlarged, this time of an emo-looking Yunho. There are several grunts of agreement (“Even though muscles I never knew I had are killing me at the moment,” Jaejoong says). Another picture. This time of the river at dusk, just before they had boarded the car to go, where light and dark had fought to take possession of the skies.
It had only lasted for a little more than an hour, that moment of normalcy and peace, their sudden snatching of time, when they were just Yoochun, Yunho, Changmin, Junsu, and Jaejoong and not Dong Bang Shin Ki; just boys having fun like they’re supposed to, and not professionals being stretched too thin, being told to do too much with too little time. Changmin suddenly doesn’t feel immortal anymore.
“I’m sorry it couldn’t last,” he says, actually feeling apologetic, although he doesn’t really know why. Junsu sits up and moves in to cuddle, murmuring words of comfort (“Nothing lasts, Minnie, but it’s always good to live the moment”) and petting him. The room lapses into silence, and Changmin expects someone to start another of their “I wish-” conversations which are only reserved for especially emotional moments. He is surprised therefore when a pillow suddenly takes flight, and Yoochun lets out a battle cry and Junsu has disappeared, leaving a trail of giggles, as he jumps onto Changmin’s bed and attempts to disappear under the comforter.
“YAH! Kim Junsu! I’ll show you how living the moment feels like! Prepare to die!”
He is pulled to his feet, and the laptop is set aside to protect it from damage. “No time to wallow in emotions, Minnie!” Yunho says as pillows rain on top of them. “FIGHT!” and in no time at all he’s jumping on beds with them, spilling sheets and comforters onto the floor and hoarding pillows and various soft projectiles he can reach (Bambi being one of them, much to Yunho’s dismay), the tiredness gone from his legs and the heaviness lifting from his shoulders as laughter spills out from his heart and up to his throat. In the end they collapse onto Junsu’s bed, their chests heaving in pants and their knees trembling with fatigue.
“We may not have forever,” Jaejoong says in a voice that’s as tired as a whisper, “but we have now. And we have us. That’s what we’ll always have.” A fist is raised.
“SuChunJaeMinHo Hwaiting.” Yunho says, not faltering even with the sudden introduction of their hybrid name. “Dong Bang Shin Ki Hwaiting.”
“Hwaiting,” they echo, and with his chest now light and his emotions no longer taut and frayed, Changmin can’t agree more.
Tomorrow is another day.
END.