in another life

[drawingintheair]

in another life
eunhyuk/donghae
pg
3275 words
in empty hallways and abandoned corridors, they could have lived a different life.



in another life

No one ever thinks about the ghosts when they go to concert halls. All that stays in memory are the performers, the record breaking ticket sales and the stages that collapsed causing fatal injuries and the subsequent law suits. But it’s after, after the last thunder of applause and the sweat has been mopped up from the platforms, after the crowds have screamed their throats dry and all the microphones have been turned off; the ghost of the music is the only one to stay.

Donghae doesn’t really believe in ghosts anymore. If he did he’d probably wonder if the ghosts ever feel lonely.

“Here you are.”

Hyukjae’s hair is still wet and his smile is still bright even without all the stage lights. He’s changed out of his clothes, unlike Donghae with sweat sticking his outfit in places Donghae rather they wouldn’t. Hyukjae’s eyes are smudged in black, outlines that make them look bigger in their search around Donghae’s face; Donghae has to fight the persistent urge to scratch at his eyelids every few minutes.

Sliding down the wall, Hyukjae takes a seat next to Donghae on the floor by an old amplifier. The hall is empty but the lasting murmur of the crowd seeps into the walls and makes an echo around them.

“Playing hide and seek?” Hyukjae asks.

Donghae laughs. “No,” he says though that’s not exactly the truth. He isn’t hiding but maybe Donghae was hoping to find the ghost of someone else’s song, ask it for advice on how it’s coped with time and being forgotten. “No. Just thinking.”

Hyukjae shifts and Donghae gets a waft of the humidity in his hair like rain in autumn, unexpected and a bit of a tidal wave. Hyukjae is like a tidal wave, always upcoming and unexpected like the little smirk he throws at Donghae now.

“Ah. Donghae and thinking. Not a lot of good ever comes from that.”

Donghae laughs again, this time longer and the smile it coaxes out of him is a little more genuine and Hyukjae grins when Donghae punches him and calls him an idiot. Hyukjae is an idiot but he makes Donghae smile and Donghae doesn’t really mind.

“I feel tired,” Hyukjae says after the laughter has subsided, the echo dying down in the background. “Was it ever this tiring? In the beginning?”

The beginning. It’s a mystery if any of them even remember when the beginning was. That first time those lights caressed their skin and kept them out of the darkness when that very first audience held their breaths for them. For a first note, for a first chorus, for a first song and an ever transitioning dance step. Donghae can still remember how he felt after they sang Miracle for the very first time. How his heart had tried to beat itself until it almost imploded inside Donghae’s chest, his entire body felt like it had wanted to self combust once he’d stepped off the stage. How they all felt with Leeteuk barely holding himself in one piece and Yesung’s legs struggling to keep himself straight and not spinning off until he reached the ground. But there had been something else. There had been sparks rushing through and around them, they’d get so wound up sleep was impossible and they’d keep going well into the morning with joyous laughter and a buzz that lasted longer than alcohol.

Adrenaline still rapid rushes beneath Donghae’s skin but all he wants to do is lay down in warm sheets and sleep forever.

He looks at Hyukjae, sees exhaustion stretched around the corners of his eyes, and heaves a sigh covered as a chuckle. “Nah. You’re just getting old.”

“Says you.” Hyukjae scowls and inspects Donghae’s face with mock disapproval and clicks his tongue. “Is that a grey hair I see?”

“Shut up. At least I don’t have neck giblets.”

“Asshole.”

“Jerk face.”

And then Hyukjae smiles, knocks their shoulders together and Donghae finds his own silly smile taking up half of his face.

“We’re never going to grow up are we?” Donghae asks because this is always them, joking and laughing to cover up the sadness, the bleakness of their worthlessness in the scheme of things where everyone else embraces it for what it is. They aren’t superstars or larger than life demigods. They’re just two boys who all they’d wanted once was to sing and dance and the fact that they've come this far is more good fortune and perseverance when all the others gave up and went back home.

“Us?” Hyukjae tilts his head in thought. He looks at Donghae through the corner of his eye and there is something about black against Hyukjae’s skin that makes Donghae’s stare linger across practice rooms and in early morning car rides, during sleepless nights and in the middle of an empty hallway. “I don’t know about me, but I know for sure you aren’t.”

Hyukjae jerks back when Donghae lifts his hand but all Donghae does is run his thumb on the corner of Hyukjae’s right eye lightly, the slits in Donghae’s skin filled up with black. “Do you want to? Grow up I mean.”

Hyukjae leans into Donghae’s touch and watches Donghae roll his tainted thumb against his index finger, back and forth and back like the swinging of a cat’s cradle without the string. “No.” He smiles at the rise of Donghae’s eyebrows. “But it doesn’t mean I‘m not going to.”

“I think you already have,” Donghae says, a sad sort of smile painted on his lips and most of Donghae’s smiles are sad but he always uselessly tries to keep them happy for Hyukjae. The corners of Hyukjae’s mouth fall and Donghae’s smiles are the saddest lately when he’s with Hyukjae more than anyone else.

The bass of the speakers still pounds in Donghae’s ears, even after the reprise and dissolution of the crowd. This may have been their rowdiest concert yet and Donghae swears the fans screamed the loudest he’s ever heard them, every ounce of their love and loyalty spread out in sound waves. Donghae wants to keep it all tucked in his ear drum for a lifetime. It’ll have to last them all a lifetime, for those lonely moments in the not so distant future when the stage is just an old photograph fading at the edges.

There is another sigh, this time from Hyukjae, and Donghae’s shoulder becomes wet as Hyukjae lays his head on it. Donghae gives in to the shiver Hyukjae’s breath traces down his skin and rests his chin on Hyukjae’s head. Hyukjae’s roots are beginning to blacken again, his hair is a mix of wheat dancing in the sun and the road paved over the field.

“I’m thinking about dying it back,” Hyukjae says like he can sense Donghae’s thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s about time, don’t you think? Sometimes I look in the mirror and it still takes me a few seconds to realize it’s me.”

Donghae doesn’t tell Hyukjae he feels the same way. That sometimes he looks at Hyukjae and can’t see the boy Donghae spent years watching grow into his own skin, that gangly body fill out and work itself into its strongest and fittest. The boy whose smile lit up every practice room mirror Donghae tried not to frown into; the boy whose smile Donghae always caught himself wondering if it felt as sweet and soft as it looked.

By now, Hyukjae has started playing with his fingers, slightly pulling at the chipping nail on his left thumb and Donghae smiles against Hyukjae’s hair. He nudges Hyukjae so he’ll look up at him and Hyukjae does, tired and every bit the breathtaking man Donghae knew that boy would become one day.

“What?” Hyukjae asks. Their faces are close, not too close for comfort and the truth is, too close is always comforting for them. Donghae sleeps with the assurance that Hyukjae’s bed is his any night he can’t stand the solitude; Hyukjae knows Donghae will be a place to spill his tears without the fear of mockery or indifference.

Turning on his side, Donghae’s knees bump Hyukjae’s leg and they sort of curl into each other in the middle of a dark hallway, the low light hiding Donghae cupping the side of Hyukjae’s face and the smile he presses to the air between their mouths.

“You are absolutely beautiful, Lee Hyukjae. I hope you always have someone to tell you that.”

“Donghae.” Hyukjae breathes out his name quietly. He mimics Donghae’s actions and they form two halves of an almost whole, something missing they’re unsure they even have or are willing to lose to find. “We aren’t ending. We’re just entering a new time in our careers. We always knew it would happen.”

Donghae almost wants to laugh. Even in lack of light, Hyukjae can read his eyes like two open books with the pages stuck together by spilled tea and jam and dust. “I know. But I just. I want this to last the way it is right now.” Donghae watches as Hyukjae mirrors more than his sitting position and the desperation in his voice filters Hyukjae’s eyes. “I want to dance stupid songs with you and write lyrics that don’t make any sense and wear hideous matching outfits that make your ass look flatter than it really is.”

Hyukjae rolls his eyes and laughs and Donghae doesn’t mind that his venting was cut short if the sadness in Hyukjae’s eyes fades if only slightly.

“It’s scary isn’t it.”

“What is?

“Realizing we can’t last forever.”

“Is that what it is? I’m still trying to convince myself we can.”

After they’d triumphed the possible end the first time, they’d felt safe. All thirteen of them, together, swore that in each other’s eyes they saw forever. For years they basked in that illusion, in that half baked promise that Super Junior would be the next Shinwa, that they all wanted and were willing to sacrifice themselves for the same thing. Donghae doesn’t call any of his members liars or quitters, but people grow up. People stop lying to themselves that they are happy and instead try to actually be happy. It doesn’t change the fact that it hurts that they all couldn’t be happy together.

And through all this time, all these years of letdowns and victories, of shoving each other up that stratosphere shattering hill and relying on a quick game of rock paper scissors at each fork in the road, Hyukjae has been here, wanting the same thing that still makes Donghae happy.

“We’re replaceable, Donghae. But that doesn’t mean we’ll be forgotten.”

Anyone can be replaced. Anyone can be a lover, a friend, a president, a singer. Donghae slides his fingers in the cracks of Hyukjae’s hands and while he has held probably thousands of hands in his life, it’s in Hyukjae’s hands Donghae’s fingers find what feels like home.

“Promise to never forget me.”

“Sadly, I couldn’t forget you even if I tried.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No. You know I don’t.” Hyukjae brings their hands to his lap and plays with Donghae’s thumb, traces skin stained black and smiles to make up for his untimed joke. “I can’t forget you. I’m always going to be here.”

Always, Hyukjae promises. Like ghosts, Donghae doesn’t believe in promises, but he might believe in always if it pours out of Hyukjae’s mouth the way it does now, quiet, intimate and just for Donghae.

“Do you remember the first time I tried to kiss you?”

Hyukjae’s hand stills at the abrupt subject change but Donghae is all about abrupt changes, one moment Donghae can’t seem to want to pick himself off the ground, the next he’s spinning on tiptoe and touching the stratosphere with his fingertips.

“How could I forget? You misses and kissed my chin instead. Right here.” Hyukjae gestures to a random spot on his chin.

Donghae grins. “What if that was my intention all along?”

Hyukjae’s eyebrows quirk. “Was it?”

“Maybe.”

Hyukjae frowns and Donghae doesn’t hesitate to duck his head and kiss, not that very spot on Hyukjae’s chin, but close to it. Hyukjae tries to hold his frown, his cheek ticks but he can’t hold it very long and soon he’s laughing on Donghae’s shoulder.

“You’re so weird,” Hyukjae says, composed now and shaking his head at Donghae.

“I am,” Donghae admits. He grips Hyukjae’s fingers and smiles when he feels Hyukjae grip back. “You still wouldn’t have moved away if I had kissed you.”

Donghae isn’t asking because he knows. He knows that had he actually had the guts, if he hadn’t stuttered, if he hadn’t let the what if’s and let’s nots hold him back, if he hadn’t let himself be snapped back to reality and away from a world where it was just Donghae and just Hyukjae’s smile, and Hyukjae dancing, and just Hyukjae, Hyukjae would have kissed him back.

“You’re awfully cocky, aren’t you?”

“Would you have?” Donghae presses, unable to accept the fact that he might have been reading Hyukjae wrong all these years.

Hyukjae purses his lips in thought. Donghae has to control the urge to smack him with their linked hands.

“No,” Hyukjae finally says and bites his bottom lip.

Donghae swallows and asks, “What if I hadn’t missed right now?”

The grip on Donghae’s hand intensifies. The echo has died to a silent hum and in it Hyukjae’s joyless laugh rings loud and clear, his voice throbs with disappointment, not in Donghae but in reality. “But you did, Donghae. You missed.”

Donghae wonders if they’ve always been about missed opportunities and lost chances; if he’s spent years losing his time with Hyukjae when he should have grabbed it in his trembling fear driven hands and held on for dear life until the end would have eventually torn them apart. The way it is now, slowly but surely making them drift towards different paths where the end of the stream doesn’t lead in Donghae or Hyukjae no matter how hard they battle the current.

“Do you think if we weren’t who we are…”

“In another life?” Hyukjae finishes, Donghae’s words on the tip of Hyukjae’s tongue. “Maybe.”

Hyukjae’s answer is uncertainty. That’s all other lives are. Pointless, wistful and thinking about it is as lethal as poison and as sweet as wine because in another life Donghae is just Donghae and Hyukjae is just Hyukjae. In another life they meet on some random street or in a classroom where they speak a completely different language and Donghae’s eyes aren’t always sad and Hyukjae’s gums don’t overpower his smile. In another life it is never odd for Donghae to tell Hyukjae he is beautiful, for them to walk hand in hand, for Hyukjae’s bed to be the place Donghae lies naked in at the end of each day. In another life Donghae kisses the sun on Hyukjae’s skin and home is the curve of Hyukjae’s neck and Hyukjae never finds reason to cry because the dip in Donghae’s mouth always keeps sadness at bay.

In another life, Donghae doesn’t hesitate to kiss Hyukjae.

Hyukjae looks up when Donghae tugs on his hand. He is static as Donghae moves in, as Donghae tries to erase the distance between them because who cares about other lives? This is their life and maybe just once, maybe just once Donghae doesn’t have to make himself pull away or kiss Hyukjae’s chin or cheek instead.

But it’s because this isn’t another life, because they aren’t just Hyukjae and just Donghae; in this life they are Super Junior’s Eunhyuk and Donghae and they are friends first and bandmates second, they are yin and yang, lovers who aren’t in love but could have been and promise to never waste time with what if but catch themselves falling into the temptation of it anyways.

When their mouths almost touch and Donghae can feel the black streaked just above Hyukjae’s lashes with his own, Hyukjae moves away. He presses his lips to Donghae’s cheek and Donghae bows his head, a hopeless smile twisted in the corner Hyukjae almost kisses.

“In another life I wouldn’t have waited for you to kiss me,” Hyukjae whispers into Donghae’s skin. Another unnecessary action but there is always that possibility that those ghosts are actually lingering. “I would have kissed you first.”

At the end of the day, everyone knows their place. Everyone knows this isn’t just an and. There is always an end. Lucky for them, today is not that day but it will be. Someday it will be and Donghae isn’t supposed to know if Hyukjae’s mouth is poison or wine.

Something buzzes and Donghae pulls away and everything sort of falls back into place, there is a sliver more of a light in the hall and the echo makes sound again. It bounces off Hyukjae’s mouth and lands smack against Donghae’s chest.

Mouth twisted in annoyance, Hyukjae pulls his cellphone from his pocket. He slips it back in after reading the message.

“Now I remember why I came looking for you. Everyone’s ready to go. You made everyone worry wondering where you’d wandered off to.” Hyukjae sits up straight and with his black eyes and scratched knees he smiles at Donghae with the smile of the boy he used to be. “When are you going to grow up, Donghae?”

In another life, maybe and in this other life Donghae is man enough to kiss Hyukjae.

“Someday,” he says instead. Heaving a sigh, Donghae gets up, pulling Hyukjae up along with him and the crack of Hyukjae’s bones makes him smile faintly. “Someday I’ll grow up.”

Hyukjae’s fingers clench when Donghae’s start pulling away. His eyeliner is smudged and Donghae doesn’t hold back the impulse to smudge it just a little further, his smile forced on his mouth because it’s the only part he gets to keep of Hyukjae and it’s not even really Hyukjae at all.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Hyukjae says.

They start walking down the hall and their hands fall at their sides, swinging in the spaces between them and Donghae likes the fact that it’s normal for him to laugh at Hyukjae when he trips with his untied shoelace and for Hyukjae to angrily pinch Donghae’s side as they trip and shove each other the rest of the walk.

“Oh. Don’t think I didn’t notice you forgetting the choreography during your solo.”

“What? Me? That was you. I was going in for the hip bump and obviously you messed up.”

“Please. I never mess up.”

“Hmmm. I don’t know about that. You’re getting old, Hyukjae. Just heard your hip crack.”

“You are so…”

“Wonderful?”

“I was going for brat but that too.”

The echo turns into a full on blast of noise, Yesung’s laughter barricades the space along with Siwon’s yells, a few phones go off and someone drops a piece of a equipment and it all swirls in the air waves with such suddenness, Donghae falters in his steps. Hyukjae follows suit, looking back at Donghae.

“You okay?”

There is an impulse in Donghae’s hands to pull Hyukjae back. Back to that dark hallway and press Hyukjae against that old amplifier and kiss him quietly in the dark. The ghosts would never tell but they’d know and they know as well as Donghae does that Hyukjae’s mouth isn’t for him. Not in this lifetime anyway.

Donghae smiles and Hyukjae smiles back and maybe there is that possibility that they spend the next forty years wondering, falling into temptation on odd days where the sugar melts down their tired and songless throats and their knees are so deeply scratched the dancing moves that have been immersed in their muscles are long forgotten like every song they ever sang and a dark empty hallway except for an almost kiss and the bittersweet reassurance that in another life they never have to wonder.

a/n: so donghae's solo was supposed to inspire me to write porn. this happened instead. i blame eunhae (makes everything easier)