[exo] 下一页的我; kris-centric; pg-13 [2/2]
part one;;-
The streets towards the depot are bustling at this time: home-time for workers rushing to catch the bus, flocking towards the subway stations, and Wu Fan finds himself struggling to walk against the flow.
The bus to the airport is easy to find and relatively empty, heading against the traffic. Wu Fan sits all the way in the backseat and fidgets with the wire of his earphones, the drone of the bus engine starting and the grind of tyres on asphalt overpowered by the music. Wu Fan stares out the window. His taste has changed a lot. The MP3 is filled with Chinese songs-Miriam Yeung, Wang Lee Hom-and some English songs from Justin Timberlake and Eminem that his classmates in Vancouver had given him. It’s a big difference from the contents of his iPod, all Korean songs and language lesson podcasts and practise backing tracks.
The song playing on the MP3 finishes, and shuffles to another track, except all Wu Fan hears are rustling and whooshing noises. He furrows his eyebrows, confused―then a voice comes on, and Wu Fan remembers exactly what it is.
It’s not a song, but a voice recording he’d made to himself on the plane to Korea. He’d completely forgotten about it.
“Li Jiaheng. You. Me. Future me? Is this recording? Awesome.”
Wu Fan’s heart thumps in his chest. He sounds much younger. Less jaded. There’s a hint of excited nervousness in his voice, long gone by now.
“You’re going to Korea, uhh, probably in Korea the next time you hear this. SM’s a big company, and it’s a really good opportunity because I guess it’s really famous, which is kind of cool. Maybe it’ll turn out well, maybe it won’t, just―just remember you made a promise to yourself. You’re making a promise to yourself right now, that even if you’re not starting off with the...best reasons or intentions, you’ll stick it out until the end. Actually, I don’t know if you’ll stick it out, maybe they’ll reject you or you’ll change your mind and go back to Vancouver or Guangzhou or something...but as long as you’re still there, since you got in anyway, try make it something you love, no matter what happens. You like acting, right? Doesn’t matter how you got into it, just forget about that. Look, hopefully you still have the same values, and you’ll start doing things for yourself―and wow, I sound stupid. Ah. But yeah, when..if...you listen to this again, just...I want you to stop and ground yourself and keep going until the end, got it? It’s a promise, okay? Awesome. Li Jiaheng, jiayou, I hope this helps. Yeah.”
It strikes him still. Wu Fan sits there, holding his breath, feeling like time has suspended itself.
The recording cuts off, shuffling to some old Chinese song, but Wu Fan isn't listening, isn't registering anything other than the painful stabbing in his chest, cresting with each wave of emotion. He'd been so much younger, but even with the turbulence in his life at that time, he'd had more direction than he has now. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten about his objectives and about his promise to himself.
And right now, at this moment, it―the recording―is exactly what he needs. It’s the perfect wake-up call.
Out of the blue, Wu Fan starts laughing.
It comes out as a slight chuckle, and then he’s laughing, really laughing, and the other passengers are looking at him like he’s crazy, but he can't stop himself. It's not like he has a drop of rationality left in his body today anyway, not after running away like that, not after finding his message to himself at the time he needed it the most. Maybe the heavens are trying to tell him something today.
“Could you stop the bus?” Wu Fan hears himself saying. “I’ve...I’ve got to go back.”
He gets back just before midnight.
Unfortunately, the bus he’d caught had been an express airport bus, so he had to ride all the way to Incheon before finding the right bus back, which had taken close to an hour. It's ironic, Wu Fan thinks, that when he’d wanted to run away the bus had come so easily, but the moment he’d decided he wanted to go back none of the buses were right.
Yixing’s pacing in front of their dorm room, phone in his hands. “Where were you?” he asks, worry in his voice. Wu Fan ducks his head and slings an arm over Yixing’s shoulder, pulling him into a half hug, and Yixing just pats him on the back, looking bemused. “I came back early from practise and the Korean teacher was looking for you but you weren’t in the dance studios or the dorms, and no one else had seen you either―what’s with the luggage?”
“Sorry,” Wu Fan says, setting the luggage next to his bed and sitting down. “I’m sorry, I...”
Yixing looks at the suitcase again. “Did you come back from somewhere? I’m sure we’re not allowed holidays until the end of the year...”
Wu Fan looks back at him thoughtfully. “You know how demanding the company can get. Don’t you feel like...I don’t know. Like it’s a waste of time sometimes?”
A look of understanding slowly passes over Yixing’s face. “Wait, ge, were you...going to leave?” Yixing sits down next to Wu Fan. “Ge. Tell me. Were you running away?”
Wu Fan laces his fingers together. “Look, it was stupid. The training director was talking about me not being good at anything other than languages and how I couldn’t debut with just that and suddenly I really missed Guangzhou―whatever, it doesn’t matter, I changed my mind, I’m back now. I just wanted to get away for a bit.”
“Oh,” Yixing says. He nods slowly, processing Wu Fan’s words. “What made you change your mind? About leaving, I mean.”
“I...guess I have a promise to keep.” A promise to himself. To his past self. “Kinda. It’s an important promise.”
“An important promise,” Yixing echoes, pensive. There’s a silence as he rests his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. “Ah. You know, I have a promise of sorts to keep, too.”
“Hm?”
“You know how I used to be on TV, as a kid―don’t laugh at me, I still can’t believe you went and searched up those videos from ten years ago, my god. Well, I had something like a fanclub back then, too. A Baidu Bar, I was so surprised when I found out. There’s this one fan who’s been on it for something like five years, and kept it going even when I...stopped activities. I remember I asked her once why she was still supported me, even when I wasn’t going anywhere, and she said that she didn’t know, and I felt horrible because she―and the people on the Bar―were supporting me for nothing. Anyway, we met at the airport before I came to Korea, and I promised I’d make a name for myself. So their support wouldn’t go to waste. I owe them.” Yixing chuckles. “So I’ve got to keep working hard until I debut. I guess that’s why I keep going. I have to prove something.” He falls silent, and fiddles with the ring on his index finger. “But you’re right, sometimes I feel like it is a waste of time. It’s frustrating, being nothing.”
Wu Fan looks at Yixing. The bags under his eyes are huge, with a purplish tinge to them, and his eyes are bloodshot. He must be working himself to death. “You’re not nothing. You’re going to be replacing Jonghyun at SHINee’s concert, and people will know you from that. You are working hard. SM wouldn’t have chosen you for the concert if they thought otherwise.”
Yixing offers him a small smile. “Hopefully. But in all seriousness, Wu Fan, please don’t think of leaving again, okay? I don’t think I could handle training if you weren’t here, really. If the training director’s getting on your back because of your dance marks and you need help, I’m always around.”
“Thanks, Yixing, I appreciate it.”
Yixing looks at his watch. “But my offer might have to wait until after the concert. I’ve got to get back to practise. Hey, I expect to see everything unpacked when I get back!”
---
A week before SHINee’s Christmas concert, when Wu Fan’s resting in the practise recording room, he gets a text.
wassup! i just landed in korea! let’s go watch shinee’s concert together, ㅇㅋ?
It’s hard to suppress his excitement, and Wu Fan breaks out into a smile as he walks out of the room.
Henry walks out of the music studio next door at this time as well, smiling as he looks at his phone. He’s probably been working on writing that solo song Wu Fan’s heard him mention. Han Geng’s lawsuit has just ended and he’s no longer with SM, which means Super Junior M’s future is uncertain. Henry puts up a strong front, but Wu Fan knows he’s conflicted. It’s not like SM treats their Chinese artists the best.
“Yo, Henry,” Wu Fan says, waving a hand in front of Henry’s face. “Did you get a text from Amber?”
“Yep.” Henry grins. “Hey, you’re not busy right? Wait here for a moment, okay?”
Henry sprints out of the room and comes back moments later, a hand hidden behind his back. Wu Fan stares at Henry, an eyebrow raised. “What do you got?”
“It takes roughly an hour to get through customs…so…” Henry grins. “Let's go pick up Amber!” He takes his hand out and jingles a set of car keys in front of Wu Fan’s face. “I think she deserves a welcome back from us, don’t you?”
It turns out that Henry had snitched the keys from his manager―of course, Wu Fan thinks as he gets in the passenger seat, feeling guilty, it wasn’t Canada and Henry couldn’t possibly have a car of his own in Korea―but then they’re setting out and Wu Fan winds the window down as they turn onto the freeway, remembering the scenery too well from his little escapade a month ago.
Amber is easy to spot amongst the throng of people, mainly because she’s the only person wearing sunglasses and a hat. Inexplicably, there are also a small group of people standing at the waiting area holding ‘Amber’ fansigns, and Wu Fan wonders how they’d even figured out Amber was coming back today.
“Hey, you came!” Amber says to them, taking off her sunglasses and hugging them in quick succession. Right after she pulls away from Wu Fan, she looks at him, purses her lips and lands a kick on his shin. Wu Fan pushes a laughing Henry between them, grimacing in pain.
“Man, what was that for?”
“For trying to run away. I heard about what you pulled,” Amber says, looking pointedly at Wu Fan. “This guy here told me. Dude!”
Wu Fan shoots an I-thought-I-told-you-not-to-tell-her look at Henry, who just shrugs and waves back. “You two are always conspiring against me,” Wu Fan grumbles, hooking an arm over both Amber and Henry’s necks and leading them out of the airport. “And it seems like your leg recovered just fine. I’m not sure that’s a good thing for me.”
“It’s a great thing,” Amber says, chuckling. “Anyway, you try to run away again, and I’ll kick you even harder. In the ass, got it?”
Wu Fan hides a smile. It’s been ages since he’s seen Amber’s face, and he’s missed her more than he thought. He’s glad she’s back. “Yes, Ma’am.”
SHINee’s concert is a success.
As Wu Fan predicted, the numbers on Yixing’s Baidu Bar increase exponentially overnight, and there’s even a Korean fansite made for him. Wu Fan feels strangely proud, reading the comments on the fancafe, even though they’re not for him. Yixing doesn’t get out of bed for twenty-four hours straight after it finishes, exhausted to the bone, but he spends the next few days just before the new year with Wu Fan in the dance studio helping him out with some particularly difficult choreography, which Wu Fan is eternally grateful for.
Wu Fan sends in the new year by foregoing festivities and burying himself in books―some in Korean, some in English, some in Chinese. He doesn’t need to think too hard to realise that that’s all he really brings to the company: his linguistic talent. The training director had said it before, and he’d half gotten in on this basis, so it would be a waste not to capitalise on it. There’s word that SM’s planning to debut a group to target the billion dollar Chinese market sometime in the near future, and if Wu Fan wants to be part of it, his language skills have to be up to par.
“What are you reading?” Lu Han asks, peering over his shoulder. He has a rice cracker in his mouth from the little dorm party the trainees are holding for the new year, and bits of it sprinkle onto the pages of Wu Fan’s book. “Is it another one of those ‘oh no my child is going through adolescence what do I do what do I do’ books you like? In English this time?”
“Maybe,” Wu Fan replies, flipping the page. Lu Han’s not far off the mark. Wu Fan finds himself gravitating towards self-help and self-improvement books, much to Lu Han’s amusement, and he always finds opportunities to amiably bag Wu Fan out for it―evidently, today is no exception. Wu Fan would be more annoyed about the whole laughing-at-his-taste-in-books business if he wasn’t so used to Lu Han already. In any case, time is fleeting, and he can’t waste it on the back-to-back volumes of manga that Lu Han immerses himself in. Wu Fan finds that the real situations of people painted through words on paper resonate with him, and it also builds up his growing resolution.
Wu Fan does considerably better in the January assessment, thanks to Yixing’s help. The training director looks at him with approving eyes, much like how the judges had looked at him during his auditions for SM, and Wu Fan feels a thrum of satisfaction course up his spine.
But he’s not chosen.
The line-up for SM’s new boyband is announced, and Wu Fan searches and searches, but he’s nowhere on the list.
Joonmyun practically dies of happiness when he sees his name there, three neat characters inked on the white, and asks everyone around him to tell him that it’s actually him on the list and that he’s not dreaming, then tears up and has to go outside to calm himself down. Jongin has a much more muted reaction, but the happy grin and look of joy on his face is hard to miss.
What surprises most of the trainees is that Jinho’s not chosen, even though they know the public has been anticipating his debut ever since SM The Ballad. Moonkyu―Lee Soo Man’s favourite trainee―isn’t on the list either, and speculation is that he’s lost the features that got him into SM. Puberty hasn’t exactly been nice to him, and the idol industry is unforgiving.
Yixing’s name is on the list, too.
“Congrats,” Wu Fan says. Yixing can only manage a sheepish, dazed smile and a mumbled “maybe next time” to Wu Fan. Wu Fan tells him not to worry about it, he can smile as much as he wants because it’s his big break, but Wu Fan remembers the training director’s words much too clearly.
”You’re getting old. This is your last chance.”
The last chance that he’s missed.
---
The phone call comes at the worst time.
Wu Fan’s walking down the corridor back to the dorm when his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He’s still dejected from being excluded from the line-up, and Yixing’s not with him because he’s in a meeting with the new boyband. He’d probably have to move out of the trainee dorms soon.
“Hello?”
"Jiaheng? Kevin? Ah no, you're Wu Yi Fan now, aren't you," the voice on the other end of the phone says. “How unfitting.”
Wu Fan freezes. He can feel the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. It's a voice that he's almost forgotten, almost, but it's unmistakable.
His father.
"Y-yeah," Wu Fan says, throat dry. "Yeah, it's...Wu Fan here. Who...?"
There’s a shuffling sound and a sigh from the other end. “You don't recognise your father's voice anymore?"
“Yes, I mean, no, I mean,” Wu Fan takes a deep breath. “Dad.” The word is foreign, long unused. “It’s been years. Why…? Why now?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’? Your mother wouldn’t give me your contact details in Korea, with the limited contact order and all. Told me no every time I asked. That woman, not even letting me call my own son. She probably told you a bunch of lies about the divorce trial too, didn’t she?”
“Lies?” Wu Fan feels a surge of panic rising in his chest. He’s unable to get out more than that one word. His father’s straightforward, no-nonsense way of speaking had been one of the reasons that Wu Fan could never stand up against him as a child.
“Yes, lies. Probably told you a bunch of things like I didn’t want to see you again or something. Tell me what she said to you.”
“She said that, uh, you,” Wu Fan’s voice cracks. He thinks back to the numerous phone conversations he’d tried to bury at the back of his mind, tried to forget. “You didn’t care that you couldn’t contact me. That you didn’t care if I changed my name, and that you’d...you’d rather take me off your family records.”
“Bullshit. All bullshit. I never wanted you to change your name, what bullshit. Your mother practically coerced me into signing those papers. You’re Li Jiaheng to me, you’re my son, and you’ll always be. Why did you agree to change your name?”
Wu Fan presses a hand to his forehead. The corridor is spinning now. He’d thought the whole ordeal was done, over, and that he could move on and hopefully forget all about his stubborn father, forget about the feeling of being torn between two parents and focus on finding himself, but apparently not. He’s tired of this, tired of being the one caught in the middle, and his now-unstable future is making his bad mood even fouler.
“You know what,” he says, suddenly very calm. “Just stop. Please.”
Maybe it’s that he’s grown up, and he’s finally able to speak his thoughts against his father now, or maybe he’s just finally reached his limit. Either way, his father is an ocean away, and he has the upper hand here. “Maybe I wanted to. Because let’s face it, she was always the better parent. What have you ever done for me? For us?”
“What do you want me to do about that, Jiaheng? I can’t change the past―”
“You can apologise. For not being a good father. A good husband.”
“Jiaheng, I’m your father, don’t use that to―”
“―no, fuck you.” Wu Fan’s getting more worked up. He closes his eyes and keeps his voice steady and low. “I don’t care if you’re my father, you’ve never really acted like one in the past ten years. You don’t...call me out of nowhere and tell me this shit expecting me to side with you, because you’re years too late. And don’t tell me that it’s because Mum wouldn’t let you talk to me. Because she had a fucking good reason. Did you ever stop and think, that maybe if you’d treated her better, treated me better, cared more about us, then none of this ‘bullshit’ would’ve happened in the first place? Maybe I could’ve kept my fucking name like you wanted. Did you ever think about that?”
There’s silence. Static. Crackling. Wu Fan takes a shaky breath.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself, Dad, really. Don’t try to make yourself the victim, because you’re not. I’m not in the best mood right now, I’m sorry. I’m hanging up.”
Wu Fan snaps his phone shut and takes out the battery. He slumps against the wall, curling up into a ball, gripping his phone tightly.
Out of the ways that he’d thought that he’d get back into contact with his father again, this was not one of them. He’d always thought that he would be the one to call first, and maybe his father would be surprised, or even unwilling to talk to him, but never did he think that he’d confront his father like that.
As much as his father deserves it, Wu Fan thinks wryly, this was not the way he wanted to re-connect with his father again.
The nightmare resurfaces that night, more vivid than ever.
It’s slightly different from the usual progression. Wu Fan’s still in Guangzhou, in that familiar neighbourhood, but it’s nighttime, and all the lights are off. Everything is dark. He can’t see anything but silhouettes, silhouettes of buildings, stray dogs, and hear the ghostly pealing laughter of schoolkids in the background, backlit by the huge moon in the sky. The only thing he can feel is his mother’s hand, held tightly in his left, and his father’s hand, held in his right, but something’s off about their grips.
There are no mountains this time around. Instead of a mountain, it’s the pathway to the boarding gates of the plane, exactly the same as it had looked on the day he and his parents had left for Vancouver.
It’s a second chance, he convinces himself. A chance to say what he lacked the courage to say five years ago. Don’t go. We can stay in Guangzhou, and maybe things will turn out differently.
“Mum, Dad,” he hears himself say, and it comes out aquatic sounding. “I don’t want to go. Can we not go?”
And all of a sudden, his parents’ fingers are burning his skin like hot coals and he feels like his arms are being pulled out of its sockets. He feels like his hands are being clamped between two hot mechanical presses, scalding.
“Dad, stop, you’re hurting―”
“―Jiaheng, I’m your father, don’t use that to―”
His father turns around, and Wu Fan reels back in horror.
He has no face, just a gaping black hole where his face is supposed to be.
Wu Fan stands still in shock, petrified at this faceless figure in front of him.
“Come with me,” the faceless figure says. The pressure around his hand becomes unbearable. “Come.”
“I don’t know you,” he hears himself replying. “I don’t know who you are. Please let go.”
“You’re my son, and you’ll always be―”
“―let me go!”
Wu Fan jolts awake in a cold sweat. He’s shivering. He takes his hands out from where they’re clamped tightly between his knees, and when he inspects them in the dim light, he sees the faint outline of bruises.
He ends up leaving his room and finding his way to the banks of the Han River. The moon casts a melancholic glow on the river, similar to the one in his recent nightmare, and Wu Fan has to avert his eyes and breathe into cupped hands to remind himself that it had only been a dream.
He’d forgotten his father’s face, though. That part was reality.
Wu Fan runs a hand through his hair, hugging the jacket thrown around his shoulders tighter. He tries to pull his thoughts together.
His head’s a mess. Honestly, he’d had half a mind to call his mother after his father’s phone call, bitter that she hadn’t told him the truth and led him to believe that his father hated him for three years, but after a long hour of agonising, he’d decided against it. It wouldn’t do any good to confront her about it now and bring up the past for no reason. He understands now, after those piles of books, that there’s no one that he can control in this world but himself and how he lets himself be affected by situations.
He can’t control his mother, and he can’t control his father. They’re their own entity. So the only thing he can really do in this situation is to accept the reality, and move on.
But as with everything, it’s easier said than done.
His father’s necklace swings around his neck. Wu Fan pulls it out from his t-shirt and fiddles with it, running a thumb along the metal curves, inspecting the neat engraving. Li Jiaheng. The necklace has become a part of him now, the leather string worn and faded through four years of continuous wear. He takes it off his neck, cradling the metal in his hands. The river’s just in front of him, bottomless, endless, and it would be so easy to just throw it over the edge―
“Wu Fan ge!”
Wu Fan turns around, startled. It’s Yixing, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Yixing. How―”
“You weren’t exactly quiet when you closed the door. I followed you.” Yixing chuckles, sitting down next to Wu Fan. He inspects Wu Fan’s face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“And this is why you’ve just randomly decided to make a visit to the closest river in the middle of the night. Come on, ge, I’m not that unobservant. Is this about not being chosen for the new group?”
Wu Fan looks down. “Kind of. Not really. My father called me.”
Yixing frowns. “Oh. The father that you haven’t talked to in...five years?”
“Yeah. Wait, how do you know?”
“Amber told me.” Yixing scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “She was worried about you and asked me to keep an eye on you. Plus, you sleeptalk,” he finishes, shooting a sneaky glance at Wu Fan.
“Right,” Wu Fan says, clenching the necklace in his hands. The edges dig into his palms. Of course Amber would do something like that. “I was feeling a little overwhelmed.” Just a little. “I just needed some air. To sit outside for a while. I’ll be fine.”
“Promise? You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know.”
“I know. Promise.”
“Okay,” Yixing says, wrapping an arm around Wu Fan’s shoulders. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I’m staying here with you until you want to go back to the dorms.”
Yixing ends up falling asleep on Wu Fan’s lap. Wu Fan doesn’t have the heart to wake him, so he just takes off his jacket and drapes it over Yixing and lies down as well. They can just go back in the morning, and no one would be any wiser.
Wu Fan’s woken up by the vibrating of his phone. He rubs his eyes. The sun is just starting to rise, pinpricks of light against the horizon. He gently shifts to avoid waking Yixing, and takes the phone out of his back pocket.
There’s a single text sitting in his inbox. Wu Fan hand instinctively clenches around the necklace, still in his left hand, when he reads it.
I’m sorry. This is my apology. I don’t know what else I can do.
Wu Fan snaps his phone shut and puts his arm over his eyes. He lies there for five minutes, deep in thought, gripping the necklace, then he untangles the leather string and loops it back over his head. The weight dangles around his neck, a comfortable constant. Part of himself melding back.
Four years of patience, and he’s learnt. Forgive, but never forget. He’s not quite ready to talk to his father again just yet, but he will someday. As certain as that necklace is a part of him.
---
The arrangements for SM’s new Korean boyband don’t work out according to plan.
Kyuwan―the main vocalist―is called up to the army late February, another two members withdraw, and the formation goes to pieces after that. Junghun and Liu Chao are pulled out of the group for a ‘later debut’, whatever that might mean, and Wu Fan feels slightly sorry for them, having their hopes raised like that and sent crashing to the ground in one word.
“Kris?”
The vocal coach calls him into the main office when during group vocal training. The training director’s there too, along with another trainee Wu Fan recognises as the boy from Girls’ Generation’s music video. He was also in the original line-up, and Wu Fan wonders what he’s doing here.
“Kris, I want you to train your rap with Chanyeol here,” the vocal coach tells him. Chanyeol smiles unevenly and ducks his head, and Wu Fan bows back, confused. “Because we can’t have you rapping off-rhythm when you’re finally onstage, can we?”
“Onstage...?”
The training director nods. “You’ve been chosen for the second line-up. Be warned that this isn’t final though, so you still have to work hard, but otherwise, congratulations.”
Wu Fan gulps. Debut. A chance of debut. His chance of debut.
“They might give you a choice on your stage name. Kevin? Jiaheng? Kris? Wu Fan? Yi Fan? Probably something else entirely, knowing the creative director.” The vocal coach rolls his eyes at the last two words. “If you’re lucky they’ll let you choose, but be ready for anything. Do you have a preference?”
Wu Fan hesitates. “I don’t know. Can I think about that?”
The coach chuckles. “Think all you want. But first, the two of you head off to the practise room and work on the song I set. Go, go!”
to amber: they said i’d be making a debut
from amber: sweet!!! about time bro!!
ah…only maybe though.
why maybe? lol tell me what horrible english they have planned for you
uh hopefully none, i haven’t even heard the songs. but i’m sure the english will be wonderful as always lol. and only maybe…coz y’know how they are. think they’re still trying to decide the final lineup...and they’re asking what stage name i want to use.
kickass-kris yo!
…
what about kris-dawg! hahaha
………
amber…you have even worse suggestions than lu han and yixing combined…i didn’t think that was possible…
chill i was just kidding. if you go with wu fan then the fans can call you fan fan :D isn’t that cute
uhhh fan fan no thanks lol i dunno it feels too weird……wouldn’t you feel weird if fans called you yi yun? yun yun?
yeah, but there’s no such thing as ‘too weird’ when you’re an idol :p
hey i gtg dance choreo is starting again. don’t stress too much about it!
They’re called into the board of directors’ office a week later, all fifteen of the considered trainees.
Not all fifteen trainees would be debuting, they’d heard, so the tension runs high in the room. The trainees stand, shuffling in a line, all nervous. Wu Fan takes his spot between Yixing and Lu Han, crossing his arms protectively, and he nods a greeting at Chanyeol when their eyes meet. He’s grown quite close to Chanyeol after those hours of rap training in the basement room, listening to the selection of Korean hip-hop music Chanyeol had eagerly put onto his iPod. Wu Fan feels like that if anyone had the same musical interests as him amongst the trainees, it would have to be Chanyeol. It would suck if the company told them now that they didn’t want either of them anymore.
It turns out Wu Fan’s worries are unfounded. It’s just a briefing of the boyband project that they’ll be involved in.
Wu Fan has to admit that the China-Korea split is a rather innovative idea. Lee Soo Man’s idea, no doubt. A single group sharing the same name, split into two sub-groups, one half promoting in Korea, and the other half promoting in China with the same song, same dance, and same concept. It’s a never-before tried marketing strategy, and from the dissatisfied mumblings at the board table it seems some officials are still wary of this new uncharted approach, but have decided to proceed with it anyway.
“The group name will be EXO. Derived from ‘exoplanet’.”
There’s a little snigger-cough that comes from one of the trainees, and Wu Fan catches Chanyeol covering his mouth in a fake cough, lips upturned. Of course, he thinks as he hides a smile. It’s a ridiculous name, but then again SM does have a…questionable history with names. Wu Fan thinks of Amber’s misfortune at being put in a group named after a mathematical term and thinks, that they could be much worse off than ‘EXO’.
“We have to split you into Korea and China groups,” the official explains, pacing up and down the line, inspecting them all closely with a troubled expression. “But not just yet. We still need to assess you and create a skill distribution. Just remember that half of you will be sent to China, hmm?”
“Sent to China,” one of the trainees-Kyungsoo, Wu Fan guesses-breathes on the way out of the room. His voiced is an embodiment of both awe and horror. Most of the Korean trainees have similar looks of conflict on their faces. None of them want to go a foreign country. They all want to be in the Korean unit, but there’s no telling now who might be sent away to promote for the rest of their idol life in China. It’s quite a daunting prospective considering that none of the Korean trainees know very much Chinese at all.
“Do you think they’ll put us in the Chinese unit?” Wu Fan asks Yixing and Lu Han.
“Hopefully,” Yixing replies. “We’re Chinese, right?”
“Pretty sure I am. Don’t know about you,” Lu Han quips.
Wu Fan meets Yixing’s eyes and sees quiet hopefulness. It’s obvious which group he wants to be in. Yixing misses China, a lot-he’d want to promote there instead of in Korea. Lu Han next to him is nonchalant, humming a tune. He doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t seem to mind about anything at all, ever, now that Wu Fan thinks about it. He lives ungrounded and goes with the flow.
China. Chinese New Years. Festivals. Familiarity. Red lanterns. Wu Fan’s ready to go back. China.
f(x) make a comeback in April, and Amber goes and personally delivers a copy of their new album to Wu Fan, slipping into the dance studio at the crack of dawn, where Wu Fan’s going over some choreo. ‘Pinocchio,’ the album reads. It’s nicely designed and sturdy in Wu Fan’s hands. It’s exciting to think that maybe in a couple of months time he’d be holding his own album in his hands like this.
“For you,” Amber says, putting the album down on the stereo with a grin. She waves a quick goodbye and shuts the door before Wu Fan can get another word in.
Wu Fan sits down on the couch, puzzled. She’d usually stick around and talk for a while, but she must be busy with the comeback today to leave so hurriedly. He unwraps the album and flips straight to Amber’s Thanks To messages. Amber sure knows a lot of people, Wu Fan thinks as he scans down the list of names. Friends from L.A, company officials, all the sunbae groups, and then he sees Joonmyun, Jongin, Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, K.Li, Yixing-
K.Li
Wu Fan darts out of the studio.
“Wait,” Wu Fan shouts, running through the maze of corridors on the basement level, trying to find the carpark exit. He sees Amber turn a corner. “Wait, Amber!” he shouts again, turning the corner and almost catapulting into her.
“Whoa, careful! Oh, hey dude, what’s up?”
“You…you called me K. Li,” Wu Fan mutters, puffing.
Amber chuckles, taking off her cap and scratching her head. Wu Fan hands her the album. “Oh, the message. Damn, you read fast.”
“I am trilingual. K. Li. Kevin Li, right? Why?”
“I…actually don’t know.” Amber leans against the railings of the stairs, and pulls her cap back down. “I guess was thinking about what you said about the stage name thing and all when they asked me to write the messages.”
“Name,” Wu Fan echoes. “Yeah, I didn’t-don’t know what to use.”
Amber hands him back the album, clasping a hand over his. “I was thinking really hard about this, and I want to tell you that this isn’t just for the stage, but…you know. For the past few years. Does it really matter what name you use? A name’s just a name. You’re you. I don’t think you should feel so tortured over it.” A twinkle appears in her eyes. “I would quote some Shakespeare, but I might make myself barf from the cheesy.”
Wu Fan laughs. Amber might be younger than him, but in some ways she’s a lot more insightful. Her words are absolutely right. He cuffs Amber around the neck. “Yeah, spare me the Shakespeare.”
Amber pushes him away, wrinkling her nose. “Dude, you stink! Lemme go, I’m late, I have to go to get stage costumes fitted today.”
“I’ll walk you to the carpark.”
Wu Fan’s version of walking Amber to the carpark involves pushing Amber in front of him by the shoulders. Amber laughs that laugh of hers and flaps her arms, letting herself be steered.
“Oh, one more thing,” Amber says when they’re there and Wu Fan’s already waved his goodbye. She beckons for Wu Fan to stoop down. Wu Fan leans down, and Amber tiptoes and quickly presses a kiss to his cheek. Wu Fan rubs the spot instinctively, surprised. His heart jumps.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing.” Amber grins. “Think of it as a promise that you’ll stand onstage with me when you debut, yes? Yes? Good!”
Amber looks around to the black van, waiting in the carpark. The other members are there already, Soojung tapping her shoes impatiently against the concrete. “I gotta go now, for real. Catch you later!”
Wu Fan grips the album. “Thanks, Amber. Yi Yun.”
---
Twelve of them make the final cut.
Five of the original fifteen boys in consideration are dropped, and two new trainees replace them. The first is a quiet Qingdao boy called Huang Zitao. Zitao’s Korean is so bad that it’s almost endearing to the confirmed members of the group, but the dropped trainees don’t seem to be too amused at this non-Korean newbie usurping their spot.
“개 씨발 쓰레기새끼,” Wu Fan hears one of them say to Zitao after training with a big smile on his face. Taking advantage of the fact that the new Chinese trainee can’t understand Korean, no doubt. Zitao smiles back, mistaking it for a friendly greeting, and Wu Fan exchanges looks with Yixing and swears he’ll get back at them the next time he sees them.
The other is a boy with razor-sharp cheekbones who introduces himself as Kim Jongdae. He doesn’t get nearly as cold a treatment, because he’s Korean, and he has a voice of gold.
“Jongdae, lead singer,” the creative director says. “Minseok, you won’t be a main singer anymore, we’re sending you to China with Jongdae and the four Chinese trainees here. We’re giving you two Chinese names now. Don’t respond to Jongdae and Minseok anymore, but Chen and Xiumin, understand?”
Chanyeol pouts slightly, unhappy at being separated from Wu Fan, but Wu Fan doubts that he would’ve liked China, with his exuberant personality. He’d have nowhere to display his enthusiasm without knowing the language, and that would frustrate Chanyeol to no end.
“Joonmyun, you’re the leader of EXO-K. We’ll choose you a stage name, too, Joonmyun sounds too old-fashioned. Wu Fan, you’re the leader of EXO-M. You got a name preference?”
“Uhh-”
“-nevermind actually, your English name is Kris, isn’t it. Kris is nice, Kris will do. Yixing, we’re gonna call you Lay though.”
Wu Fan rolls his neck. He’d agonised over this, and the creative director had just chosen something on the spot, as simple as that. The vocal coach was obviously getting at something with that eye-roll.
Lu Han laughs at Yixing’s misfortune. “Like an egg,” he crows when they get out of the office. He’d gotten to keep his real name. “Hey, Laylay, remember, 你蛋疼不?”
Suddenly, there’s not enough time for everything. Group rehearsals, vocal training sessions, learning and recording and rerecording and rerecording and relearning the songs and dance moves and formations and greetings and ‘personal talents’, and the months pass in the blink of an eye.
It’s good, being busy. Or at least, it doesn’t allow Wu Fan any time to worry about other things, things 5000 miles away that he still isn’t ready to face. He casually pushes it to the back of his mind. His father doesn’t text or call after that day anyway, and Wu Fan doesn’t know if he’s happy with this silence or if he’s still waiting for his father to contact him again.
SM choose him to star in a VCR for Girls’ Generation’s concert in Taiwan, and he goes through the filming in a daze, bewildered at finally actually meeting them, because even though they’re in the same company, the girls are never around the training buildings much. When Wu Fan goes out with Zitao to a tattoo parlour to get some piercings done for their album jacket shooting later in September, he’s surprised that there are people on the streets that recognise him, as ‘that trainee from SM’. It’s surprising, but a nice feeling. It’s the feeling of self-worth.
Then before he knows it, it’s November 6th.
It’s the same as any other day, except there’s something inherently different about it, because he turns twenty-one.
Twenty-one is an important age. He’s legal in all countries now, for one, but it also feels like he’s become a proper, proper adult. His eighteenth had been spent wallowing in the uncertainty of his parents’ pending divorce, in the uncertainty of Korea, and he’d in no way had any direction in his life at that point in time. So he couldn’t have been called an adult then. An adolescent at most. A lost child.
But it also means responsibility. And with a little voice nagging him at the back of his mind, he thinks that today is as good as any other day to set things straight.
Wu Fan sits in the bathroom, phone pressed to his ear. His father picks up after two missed calls. He sounds much older, more reserved. “Jiaheng,” he says. Typical. “Jiaheng-I mean-”
“It’s okay, Dad. You can call me whatever you want.”
“Okay. Jiaheng’s okay?”
“Jiaheng’s okay.”
“Ah, before I forget, happy birthday. Twenty-one now. Truly an adult.” Wu Fan can’t help his slight smile. His father had actually remembered, for once.
“Thanks.”
There’s a long silence. Now that he’s actually called, Wu Fan doesn’t know where to start. He taps his fingers on his lap, worrying his lip, heart palpitating. His father sighs.
“I spoke to your mother, by the way. After what you said-it was a wake-up call. I messed up a lot, and I’m sorry for it. To you, to your mother.”
“I’m glad you realised.”
“I mean it, Jiaheng. I’m really sorry.”
“I know, Dad. I believe you.”
“Good, good.”
Wu Fan shifts. He’s not sure if he wants to know, but now’s the only chance he has to ask. “How’s your…current relationship?”
“Ah, Naomi, she,” his father sounds pained. “She left me. I’m seeing a-a psychiatrist, counsellor, whatever you want to call it, now. They referred me to some, uh, relationship and anger management classes.”
Wu Fan nods. It was for the better. “I’m glad. Keep going, okay?”
“Enough about me. How’s Korea? Any news?”
“Well,” Wu Fan purses his lips. “I’m debuting. In an idol group in China. As a singer.”
“Not an actor?”
“I can act on the side. They said they’ll give me acting opportunities in the future.”
“Take them all. You can’t afford to think of anyone else in this situation. You have to be greedy to achieve your goals.” Wu Fan smiles wryly. Once a businessman, always a businessman. He touches the necklace around his neck, feeling the familiar metal curves.
“Don’t worry, I will.” There’s a rapping at the door and Wu Fan pulls open the door to see Yixing standing there, looking like he urgently needs to pee. “Uh, I have to go now. Stay healthy, Dad.”
“Yes, yes, Jiaheng. Happy birthday again.”
Wu Fan hangs up and vacates his position on the toilet before Yixing lets loose in his pants.
“Wait, that was your dad?” Yixing asks, groaning as he relieves himself. “I thought you weren’t talking to him?”
“I thought so too,” Wu Fan says, flipping the phone in the air. He catches it and lets out a chuckle. It feels a bit like a resolution. “But I guess I grew up.”
Wu Fan’s mother also calls a day later, apologetic for missing his birthday. She quickly blames the time difference between Vancouver and Seoul, which Wu Fan rolls his eyes at, and ends up gushing to Wu Fan about the fact that she’d just been in the hospital accompanying his youngest aunt while she had her baby. Wu Fan now has a new cousin, and they share the same birthday, twenty-one years apart. It’s an amazing coincidence. Wu Fan is mollified. He forgets that the other people in his life, his family, are all moving on, moving forwards.
“You’re debuting? In China?” his mother exclaims when Wu Fan breaks the news. “That’s great! It’s been years since I’ve seen you though. You won’t have time after you debut...will you be able to come for a visit? The company would never let you in the last few years…”
Wu Fan doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he hadn’t been back the last few years because he’d elected not to go, not wanting to feel like an intruder on her and Nicholas. Plus, airfares were expensive, and he wasn’t earning anything. He’d been reluctant to make her pay.
“Tell you what,” his mother says animatedly. “Nicholas and I are actually going to Los Angeles for a holiday at the end of the year. Do you want to come join us too? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could join us-I think it’s time you properly met Nick too. Please say you can!”
The company allows him five days.
All the filming for the music videos and teasers are scheduled to be finished mid-December, and they’re not slated for debut until after the 100-day online teaser promotion strategy, so there’s absolutely nothing stopping him from taking a week off.
“Hey, guess what,” Wu Fan says, popping into the music studio. Henry and Amber are there working on some kind of Christmas song, Henry squinting at the scrawled notes on the sheet music and Amber poking at a key on the piano.
“Oh, oh, you’re going to cancel the ten bucks I owe you from losing that basketball match last time and call it even?” Henry says hopefully, strumming a chord on the guitar for emphasis. Wu Fan raises his eyebrows at him.
“No, but thanks for reminding me.” Henry curses. Amber laughs at him. “I’m going to L.A.! To visit my mum. I haven’t seen her since I entered SM.”
“About time,” Amber says, grinning widely and throwing her hat at Wu Fan. Wu Fan catches it and puts it on. “Here, present, you can wear it when you’re in L.A. Don’t forget to visit Hollywood while you’re there!”
Wu Fan grins. It’s somewhere he’s wanted to go ever since his involvement in the drama club, back in Vancouver. He’s heard all about it, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, where every aspiring actor wants to end up. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
---
Los Angeles meets all his expectations and more.
His mother’s waiting for him at the airport, wearing a bright red dress and matching lipstick. There are crow’s feet around her eyes, and laugh lines around her lips when she shouts his name and smiles brightly. She’s aged, he thinks, as he pulls her into a hug, but she’s aged in a good way. There’s more confidence in the way she moves, an easy vibrancy Wu Fan’s never seen her with before.
“Wu Fan! This is Nick.” She introduces him to a kindly looking Canadian man wearing a blue polo shirt standing next to her. He reminds Wu Fan slightly of a bear, both in stature and physique, and he has a roaring laugh, and Wu Fan vaguely remembers seeing him around once or twice at the apartment back in Vancouver. Wu Fan can see why his mother’s mentality has improved so much these few years. Nicholas is a natural mood-maker, and he makes Wu Fan feel instantly comfortable.
“Thank you,” he mutters to Nick when his mother runs off to the restroom. “Thank you, for-for being so good to Mum. She needs it.”
“She’s a wonderful lady,” Nick says, lips twitching into a blissful smile, “I’m lucky to have her.” Wu Fan feels like he can finally rest assured.
There’s a block-up in the traffic on the way from their hotel to Walk of Fame, so Nick suggests walking instead. They’re on Vine Street already, and surely it couldn’t be too hard to reach Hollywood Boulevard with a map and a couple of pointers.
“Wu Fan,” his mother says to Wu Fan as they’re walking, quietly in Chinese. Nick’s walking ahead of them, map held in his hands, concentrating on trying to differentiate up from down. She wrings her hands. “Wu Fan, it’s not the best time, but I have to say something. About your father...”
Wu Fan turns to look at her. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. Not now.”
His mother looks guilty. “No, no, I have to. I have to say it to your face. I feel bad for lying to you, Wu Fan, he didn’t-didn’t want to give up-”
“-he didn’t want to give up custody, or have me change my name. It’s okay, Mum. I know,” Wu Fan finishes, holding his mother’s arm tightly so they don’t get separated in the crowd. When he glances back at her, she’s staring at him in shock.
“H-how-”
“I talked to him. He got my phone number somehow. It’s okay, calm down. I don’t blame you, so don’t feel guilty anymore.”
“I think this is it!” Nicholas says, turning around and beaming. Wu Fan gives his mother’s arm a squeeze, and she nods, placing a hand over Wu Fan’s. “Hollywood Walk of Fame!”
Wu Fan stands on the pathway, looking at the first star beneath his feet. 2400 bronze stars from this point, embedded into the pavement. He looks to sky above, and sees a row of flashing red and amber lights, illuminating the pavement.
He smiles. The lights remind him in a strange way of the red lanterns that used to hang at the markets in Guangzhou. Those red lanterns that meant so much to him as a child, that he stuck by and believed in no matter what, that one thread of superstition that was his ray of hope. Instead of lanterns today, it’s the lights of Los Angeles above him, and the stars on the pavement below. Wu Fan closes his eyes. He pulls down his-Amber’s-hat. His fingers travel to his neck, where his circular metal necklace hangs, and he grips onto it like a lifeline and makes a wish.
Happiness. Peace. Stability. For his mother and his father, and for himself.
from amber: you awake?
to amber: course not
what a liar
i went to walk of fame today. thought of you
i’d be offended if you didn’t, putting up with you for this long :P
Wu Fan grins. Thoughtful, he pulls up a blank message. They’re probably all doing fine in Korea right now, but they’re the people who have pulled Wu Fan through his training period, and he feels extra sentimental today.
to yixing: hey yixing. thanks for putting up with me for the past year. i’m in la, just saw the walk of fame today. i hope you’re not pulling all-nighters in the dance room again.
to henry: YO MAN i’m in la. if you’re still in the studio.....go to bed! and gimme a shout if you want souvenirs. aweeesome
to lu han: ten bucks you’re reading manga right now. go kick yixing off to bed for me if he’s still pushing himself!
from lu han: kicked yixing off the bed, close enough. you owe me ten bucks!
Wu Fan snorts. Of course Lu Han would. He shakes his head in mirth as he flicks through the photos on his phone, and selects the one he took on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, right after he made his wish.
人人网
2011年12月29日
Photo post: I will have my name there one day. Wait for me.
And it doesn’t matter which one.
Wu Fan lies back on the recliner and looks up at his phone, admiring the photo of his two feet standing on the stars, and imagines. It doesn’t matter which name he uses, just as long as he’s him and carving his own path and not dwelling on the pain of the past.
人人网 notification: Yixing has commented on your post:
“(lu han kicked me out of the bed.......) duizhang, jiayou!”
Wu Fan laughs quietly at his phone. He’ll be making his debut soon, as the leader of EXO-M. It’s a huge responsibility, but he thinks he can handle it. Whatever potential he has, and whatever chances he’ll be offered, only time will tell. The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west, and as long as that remains unchanging, the world is his to conquer, whoever he is.
It’s taken years, but right on the cusp of the new year, Wu Fan-Wu Yi Fan, Kris Wu, Kevin Li, Li Jiaheng, each and every one of him-walks towards a yet unwritten future with a lighter heart.
完
a/n: ok omg influx of kris feelings and this happened u___u. disclaimer that this is in no way true!
very long tl;dr notes follow; read at own risk!
1. so apparently! wu fan may have actually lived in canada since he was small, moved to guangzhou for a year in 8th grade, then back to canada. that apparent info was released i think after i’d figured out the plotline and written 5k bawls. and also somehow my brain told me his accented english = he’d definitely only lived in canada for two years lol u___u. alternatively, he went to a sports school when he was small then transferred into guangzhou no 7 middle school halfway through the school year in 8th grade and then went to canada. EITHER WAY he was...not born in canada. or so i hear so SHH THS IS STILL FEASIBLE. i have no souces to refer to except for c-fans his life is a mystery l-o-l sorry about the discrepancy.
2. wu fan was the captain of his basketball team in guangzhou, but no idea about his actual prospects. apparently he was pretty damn good though.
3. yes vancouver actually is 5000 miles away from seoul \o/ the more you know.
4. i have not had the tragedy of going through a custody battle before, much less in canada. from what i know, the two parties must be separated for 12 months before an application can be made, with the divorce being final 30 days from the court appearance date. as such, i also have not looked at the legislation regarding immigrated couples, lack of prenup, and their rights as non-canadian citizens in canadian courts, much less family registry business. so. everything with a grain of salt.
5. yes ‘kris’ is an ‘asymmetrical dagger or sword most strongly associated with the culture of Indonesia’ source: WIKIPEDIA most reliable ofc.
6. wu fan’s full name wu yi fan (吴亦凡) means ‘without’ ‘also’ ‘ordinary’ aka ‘extraordinary’. sourced from here
7. seriously, he has that circular necklace in half of his predebut pics. i had to make something out of it. ALL THE CREATIVE LIBERTIES.
8. i am well aware you cannot just run away from sm to another country because a) need tickets b) need passport c) need visa d) violation of contract, and a person would probably think more than that before leaving, but let’s ignore that, shall we n__n.
9. hahaha so our dear wu fan was seen reading a book called “因为痛，所以叫青春” aka “because it hurts, that’s why it’s called adolescence” so n_____n uses as filler text. source: pic
10. i have absolutely no idea who the prospectives were apart from the stuff i dug out or how the hell they did the selection for exo and when it was finalised so extreme uh, liberties! also 개 씨발 쓰레기새끼 translates roughly to “fucking dog bastard useless piece of rubbish” do not say this to people please u_u. and 你蛋疼不 = "does your egg hurt" = web slang for saying "are you an idiot/bored out of your mind" and lu han posted this on yixing's 'lonly...' renren status back in dec 2010 l-o-l ilh.
11. absolutely blames the influx of krisber on that damn like a g6 performance from smtown anaheim…and this fucking video i’m just gonna cry at this. amber basically...describes everything kris. watch me implode.
12. i don’t have to say that i don’t know anything at all about wu fan’s parents right? (i...am also very very aware that there are better ways i could've handled certain issues, regarding the divorce. i'm sorry if it wasn't done right, i based it off a single person's rl situation and i understand not everyone has the same experience. i am open to messages if you think there are glaring errors in the characters' mentality.)
13. if you’re actually still here then have a fucking heart from me for enduring this nonsense, have several. and a few flowers too. ❀.•❤•.✿.•❤•❀.•❤•.✿.•❤•
The streets towards the depot are bustling at this time: home-time for workers rushing to catch the bus, flocking towards the subway stations, and Wu Fan finds himself struggling to walk against the flow.
The bus to the airport is easy to find and relatively empty, heading against the traffic. Wu Fan sits all the way in the backseat and fidgets with the wire of his earphones, the drone of the bus engine starting and the grind of tyres on asphalt overpowered by the music. Wu Fan stares out the window. His taste has changed a lot. The MP3 is filled with Chinese songs-Miriam Yeung, Wang Lee Hom-and some English songs from Justin Timberlake and Eminem that his classmates in Vancouver had given him. It’s a big difference from the contents of his iPod, all Korean songs and language lesson podcasts and practise backing tracks.
The song playing on the MP3 finishes, and shuffles to another track, except all Wu Fan hears are rustling and whooshing noises. He furrows his eyebrows, confused―then a voice comes on, and Wu Fan remembers exactly what it is.
It’s not a song, but a voice recording he’d made to himself on the plane to Korea. He’d completely forgotten about it.
“Li Jiaheng. You. Me. Future me? Is this recording? Awesome.”
Wu Fan’s heart thumps in his chest. He sounds much younger. Less jaded. There’s a hint of excited nervousness in his voice, long gone by now.
“You’re going to Korea, uhh, probably in Korea the next time you hear this. SM’s a big company, and it’s a really good opportunity because I guess it’s really famous, which is kind of cool. Maybe it’ll turn out well, maybe it won’t, just―just remember you made a promise to yourself. You’re making a promise to yourself right now, that even if you’re not starting off with the...best reasons or intentions, you’ll stick it out until the end. Actually, I don’t know if you’ll stick it out, maybe they’ll reject you or you’ll change your mind and go back to Vancouver or Guangzhou or something...but as long as you’re still there, since you got in anyway, try make it something you love, no matter what happens. You like acting, right? Doesn’t matter how you got into it, just forget about that. Look, hopefully you still have the same values, and you’ll start doing things for yourself―and wow, I sound stupid. Ah. But yeah, when..if...you listen to this again, just...I want you to stop and ground yourself and keep going until the end, got it? It’s a promise, okay? Awesome. Li Jiaheng, jiayou, I hope this helps. Yeah.”
It strikes him still. Wu Fan sits there, holding his breath, feeling like time has suspended itself.
The recording cuts off, shuffling to some old Chinese song, but Wu Fan isn't listening, isn't registering anything other than the painful stabbing in his chest, cresting with each wave of emotion. He'd been so much younger, but even with the turbulence in his life at that time, he'd had more direction than he has now. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten about his objectives and about his promise to himself.
And right now, at this moment, it―the recording―is exactly what he needs. It’s the perfect wake-up call.
Out of the blue, Wu Fan starts laughing.
It comes out as a slight chuckle, and then he’s laughing, really laughing, and the other passengers are looking at him like he’s crazy, but he can't stop himself. It's not like he has a drop of rationality left in his body today anyway, not after running away like that, not after finding his message to himself at the time he needed it the most. Maybe the heavens are trying to tell him something today.
“Could you stop the bus?” Wu Fan hears himself saying. “I’ve...I’ve got to go back.”
He gets back just before midnight.
Unfortunately, the bus he’d caught had been an express airport bus, so he had to ride all the way to Incheon before finding the right bus back, which had taken close to an hour. It's ironic, Wu Fan thinks, that when he’d wanted to run away the bus had come so easily, but the moment he’d decided he wanted to go back none of the buses were right.
Yixing’s pacing in front of their dorm room, phone in his hands. “Where were you?” he asks, worry in his voice. Wu Fan ducks his head and slings an arm over Yixing’s shoulder, pulling him into a half hug, and Yixing just pats him on the back, looking bemused. “I came back early from practise and the Korean teacher was looking for you but you weren’t in the dance studios or the dorms, and no one else had seen you either―what’s with the luggage?”
“Sorry,” Wu Fan says, setting the luggage next to his bed and sitting down. “I’m sorry, I...”
Yixing looks at the suitcase again. “Did you come back from somewhere? I’m sure we’re not allowed holidays until the end of the year...”
Wu Fan looks back at him thoughtfully. “You know how demanding the company can get. Don’t you feel like...I don’t know. Like it’s a waste of time sometimes?”
A look of understanding slowly passes over Yixing’s face. “Wait, ge, were you...going to leave?” Yixing sits down next to Wu Fan. “Ge. Tell me. Were you running away?”
Wu Fan laces his fingers together. “Look, it was stupid. The training director was talking about me not being good at anything other than languages and how I couldn’t debut with just that and suddenly I really missed Guangzhou―whatever, it doesn’t matter, I changed my mind, I’m back now. I just wanted to get away for a bit.”
“Oh,” Yixing says. He nods slowly, processing Wu Fan’s words. “What made you change your mind? About leaving, I mean.”
“I...guess I have a promise to keep.” A promise to himself. To his past self. “Kinda. It’s an important promise.”
“An important promise,” Yixing echoes, pensive. There’s a silence as he rests his chin on his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. “Ah. You know, I have a promise of sorts to keep, too.”
“Hm?”
“You know how I used to be on TV, as a kid―don’t laugh at me, I still can’t believe you went and searched up those videos from ten years ago, my god. Well, I had something like a fanclub back then, too. A Baidu Bar, I was so surprised when I found out. There’s this one fan who’s been on it for something like five years, and kept it going even when I...stopped activities. I remember I asked her once why she was still supported me, even when I wasn’t going anywhere, and she said that she didn’t know, and I felt horrible because she―and the people on the Bar―were supporting me for nothing. Anyway, we met at the airport before I came to Korea, and I promised I’d make a name for myself. So their support wouldn’t go to waste. I owe them.” Yixing chuckles. “So I’ve got to keep working hard until I debut. I guess that’s why I keep going. I have to prove something.” He falls silent, and fiddles with the ring on his index finger. “But you’re right, sometimes I feel like it is a waste of time. It’s frustrating, being nothing.”
Wu Fan looks at Yixing. The bags under his eyes are huge, with a purplish tinge to them, and his eyes are bloodshot. He must be working himself to death. “You’re not nothing. You’re going to be replacing Jonghyun at SHINee’s concert, and people will know you from that. You are working hard. SM wouldn’t have chosen you for the concert if they thought otherwise.”
Yixing offers him a small smile. “Hopefully. But in all seriousness, Wu Fan, please don’t think of leaving again, okay? I don’t think I could handle training if you weren’t here, really. If the training director’s getting on your back because of your dance marks and you need help, I’m always around.”
“Thanks, Yixing, I appreciate it.”
Yixing looks at his watch. “But my offer might have to wait until after the concert. I’ve got to get back to practise. Hey, I expect to see everything unpacked when I get back!”
---
A week before SHINee’s Christmas concert, when Wu Fan’s resting in the practise recording room, he gets a text.
wassup! i just landed in korea! let’s go watch shinee’s concert together, ㅇㅋ?
It’s hard to suppress his excitement, and Wu Fan breaks out into a smile as he walks out of the room.
Henry walks out of the music studio next door at this time as well, smiling as he looks at his phone. He’s probably been working on writing that solo song Wu Fan’s heard him mention. Han Geng’s lawsuit has just ended and he’s no longer with SM, which means Super Junior M’s future is uncertain. Henry puts up a strong front, but Wu Fan knows he’s conflicted. It’s not like SM treats their Chinese artists the best.
“Yo, Henry,” Wu Fan says, waving a hand in front of Henry’s face. “Did you get a text from Amber?”
“Yep.” Henry grins. “Hey, you’re not busy right? Wait here for a moment, okay?”
Henry sprints out of the room and comes back moments later, a hand hidden behind his back. Wu Fan stares at Henry, an eyebrow raised. “What do you got?”
“It takes roughly an hour to get through customs…so…” Henry grins. “Let's go pick up Amber!” He takes his hand out and jingles a set of car keys in front of Wu Fan’s face. “I think she deserves a welcome back from us, don’t you?”
It turns out that Henry had snitched the keys from his manager―of course, Wu Fan thinks as he gets in the passenger seat, feeling guilty, it wasn’t Canada and Henry couldn’t possibly have a car of his own in Korea―but then they’re setting out and Wu Fan winds the window down as they turn onto the freeway, remembering the scenery too well from his little escapade a month ago.
Amber is easy to spot amongst the throng of people, mainly because she’s the only person wearing sunglasses and a hat. Inexplicably, there are also a small group of people standing at the waiting area holding ‘Amber’ fansigns, and Wu Fan wonders how they’d even figured out Amber was coming back today.
“Hey, you came!” Amber says to them, taking off her sunglasses and hugging them in quick succession. Right after she pulls away from Wu Fan, she looks at him, purses her lips and lands a kick on his shin. Wu Fan pushes a laughing Henry between them, grimacing in pain.
“Man, what was that for?”
“For trying to run away. I heard about what you pulled,” Amber says, looking pointedly at Wu Fan. “This guy here told me. Dude!”
Wu Fan shoots an I-thought-I-told-you-not-to-tell-her look at Henry, who just shrugs and waves back. “You two are always conspiring against me,” Wu Fan grumbles, hooking an arm over both Amber and Henry’s necks and leading them out of the airport. “And it seems like your leg recovered just fine. I’m not sure that’s a good thing for me.”
“It’s a great thing,” Amber says, chuckling. “Anyway, you try to run away again, and I’ll kick you even harder. In the ass, got it?”
Wu Fan hides a smile. It’s been ages since he’s seen Amber’s face, and he’s missed her more than he thought. He’s glad she’s back. “Yes, Ma’am.”
SHINee’s concert is a success.
As Wu Fan predicted, the numbers on Yixing’s Baidu Bar increase exponentially overnight, and there’s even a Korean fansite made for him. Wu Fan feels strangely proud, reading the comments on the fancafe, even though they’re not for him. Yixing doesn’t get out of bed for twenty-four hours straight after it finishes, exhausted to the bone, but he spends the next few days just before the new year with Wu Fan in the dance studio helping him out with some particularly difficult choreography, which Wu Fan is eternally grateful for.
Wu Fan sends in the new year by foregoing festivities and burying himself in books―some in Korean, some in English, some in Chinese. He doesn’t need to think too hard to realise that that’s all he really brings to the company: his linguistic talent. The training director had said it before, and he’d half gotten in on this basis, so it would be a waste not to capitalise on it. There’s word that SM’s planning to debut a group to target the billion dollar Chinese market sometime in the near future, and if Wu Fan wants to be part of it, his language skills have to be up to par.
“What are you reading?” Lu Han asks, peering over his shoulder. He has a rice cracker in his mouth from the little dorm party the trainees are holding for the new year, and bits of it sprinkle onto the pages of Wu Fan’s book. “Is it another one of those ‘oh no my child is going through adolescence what do I do what do I do’ books you like? In English this time?”
“Maybe,” Wu Fan replies, flipping the page. Lu Han’s not far off the mark. Wu Fan finds himself gravitating towards self-help and self-improvement books, much to Lu Han’s amusement, and he always finds opportunities to amiably bag Wu Fan out for it―evidently, today is no exception. Wu Fan would be more annoyed about the whole laughing-at-his-taste-in-books business if he wasn’t so used to Lu Han already. In any case, time is fleeting, and he can’t waste it on the back-to-back volumes of manga that Lu Han immerses himself in. Wu Fan finds that the real situations of people painted through words on paper resonate with him, and it also builds up his growing resolution.
Wu Fan does considerably better in the January assessment, thanks to Yixing’s help. The training director looks at him with approving eyes, much like how the judges had looked at him during his auditions for SM, and Wu Fan feels a thrum of satisfaction course up his spine.
But he’s not chosen.
The line-up for SM’s new boyband is announced, and Wu Fan searches and searches, but he’s nowhere on the list.
Joonmyun practically dies of happiness when he sees his name there, three neat characters inked on the white, and asks everyone around him to tell him that it’s actually him on the list and that he’s not dreaming, then tears up and has to go outside to calm himself down. Jongin has a much more muted reaction, but the happy grin and look of joy on his face is hard to miss.
What surprises most of the trainees is that Jinho’s not chosen, even though they know the public has been anticipating his debut ever since SM The Ballad. Moonkyu―Lee Soo Man’s favourite trainee―isn’t on the list either, and speculation is that he’s lost the features that got him into SM. Puberty hasn’t exactly been nice to him, and the idol industry is unforgiving.
Yixing’s name is on the list, too.
“Congrats,” Wu Fan says. Yixing can only manage a sheepish, dazed smile and a mumbled “maybe next time” to Wu Fan. Wu Fan tells him not to worry about it, he can smile as much as he wants because it’s his big break, but Wu Fan remembers the training director’s words much too clearly.
”You’re getting old. This is your last chance.”
The last chance that he’s missed.
---
The phone call comes at the worst time.
Wu Fan’s walking down the corridor back to the dorm when his phone vibrates in his back pocket. He’s still dejected from being excluded from the line-up, and Yixing’s not with him because he’s in a meeting with the new boyband. He’d probably have to move out of the trainee dorms soon.
“Hello?”
"Jiaheng? Kevin? Ah no, you're Wu Yi Fan now, aren't you," the voice on the other end of the phone says. “How unfitting.”
Wu Fan freezes. He can feel the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. It's a voice that he's almost forgotten, almost, but it's unmistakable.
His father.
"Y-yeah," Wu Fan says, throat dry. "Yeah, it's...Wu Fan here. Who...?"
There’s a shuffling sound and a sigh from the other end. “You don't recognise your father's voice anymore?"
“Yes, I mean, no, I mean,” Wu Fan takes a deep breath. “Dad.” The word is foreign, long unused. “It’s been years. Why…? Why now?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’? Your mother wouldn’t give me your contact details in Korea, with the limited contact order and all. Told me no every time I asked. That woman, not even letting me call my own son. She probably told you a bunch of lies about the divorce trial too, didn’t she?”
“Lies?” Wu Fan feels a surge of panic rising in his chest. He’s unable to get out more than that one word. His father’s straightforward, no-nonsense way of speaking had been one of the reasons that Wu Fan could never stand up against him as a child.
“Yes, lies. Probably told you a bunch of things like I didn’t want to see you again or something. Tell me what she said to you.”
“She said that, uh, you,” Wu Fan’s voice cracks. He thinks back to the numerous phone conversations he’d tried to bury at the back of his mind, tried to forget. “You didn’t care that you couldn’t contact me. That you didn’t care if I changed my name, and that you’d...you’d rather take me off your family records.”
“Bullshit. All bullshit. I never wanted you to change your name, what bullshit. Your mother practically coerced me into signing those papers. You’re Li Jiaheng to me, you’re my son, and you’ll always be. Why did you agree to change your name?”
Wu Fan presses a hand to his forehead. The corridor is spinning now. He’d thought the whole ordeal was done, over, and that he could move on and hopefully forget all about his stubborn father, forget about the feeling of being torn between two parents and focus on finding himself, but apparently not. He’s tired of this, tired of being the one caught in the middle, and his now-unstable future is making his bad mood even fouler.
“You know what,” he says, suddenly very calm. “Just stop. Please.”
Maybe it’s that he’s grown up, and he’s finally able to speak his thoughts against his father now, or maybe he’s just finally reached his limit. Either way, his father is an ocean away, and he has the upper hand here. “Maybe I wanted to. Because let’s face it, she was always the better parent. What have you ever done for me? For us?”
“What do you want me to do about that, Jiaheng? I can’t change the past―”
“You can apologise. For not being a good father. A good husband.”
“Jiaheng, I’m your father, don’t use that to―”
“―no, fuck you.” Wu Fan’s getting more worked up. He closes his eyes and keeps his voice steady and low. “I don’t care if you’re my father, you’ve never really acted like one in the past ten years. You don’t...call me out of nowhere and tell me this shit expecting me to side with you, because you’re years too late. And don’t tell me that it’s because Mum wouldn’t let you talk to me. Because she had a fucking good reason. Did you ever stop and think, that maybe if you’d treated her better, treated me better, cared more about us, then none of this ‘bullshit’ would’ve happened in the first place? Maybe I could’ve kept my fucking name like you wanted. Did you ever think about that?”
There’s silence. Static. Crackling. Wu Fan takes a shaky breath.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself, Dad, really. Don’t try to make yourself the victim, because you’re not. I’m not in the best mood right now, I’m sorry. I’m hanging up.”
Wu Fan snaps his phone shut and takes out the battery. He slumps against the wall, curling up into a ball, gripping his phone tightly.
Out of the ways that he’d thought that he’d get back into contact with his father again, this was not one of them. He’d always thought that he would be the one to call first, and maybe his father would be surprised, or even unwilling to talk to him, but never did he think that he’d confront his father like that.
As much as his father deserves it, Wu Fan thinks wryly, this was not the way he wanted to re-connect with his father again.
The nightmare resurfaces that night, more vivid than ever.
It’s slightly different from the usual progression. Wu Fan’s still in Guangzhou, in that familiar neighbourhood, but it’s nighttime, and all the lights are off. Everything is dark. He can’t see anything but silhouettes, silhouettes of buildings, stray dogs, and hear the ghostly pealing laughter of schoolkids in the background, backlit by the huge moon in the sky. The only thing he can feel is his mother’s hand, held tightly in his left, and his father’s hand, held in his right, but something’s off about their grips.
There are no mountains this time around. Instead of a mountain, it’s the pathway to the boarding gates of the plane, exactly the same as it had looked on the day he and his parents had left for Vancouver.
It’s a second chance, he convinces himself. A chance to say what he lacked the courage to say five years ago. Don’t go. We can stay in Guangzhou, and maybe things will turn out differently.
“Mum, Dad,” he hears himself say, and it comes out aquatic sounding. “I don’t want to go. Can we not go?”
And all of a sudden, his parents’ fingers are burning his skin like hot coals and he feels like his arms are being pulled out of its sockets. He feels like his hands are being clamped between two hot mechanical presses, scalding.
“Dad, stop, you’re hurting―”
“―Jiaheng, I’m your father, don’t use that to―”
His father turns around, and Wu Fan reels back in horror.
He has no face, just a gaping black hole where his face is supposed to be.
Wu Fan stands still in shock, petrified at this faceless figure in front of him.
“Come with me,” the faceless figure says. The pressure around his hand becomes unbearable. “Come.”
“I don’t know you,” he hears himself replying. “I don’t know who you are. Please let go.”
“You’re my son, and you’ll always be―”
“―let me go!”
Wu Fan jolts awake in a cold sweat. He’s shivering. He takes his hands out from where they’re clamped tightly between his knees, and when he inspects them in the dim light, he sees the faint outline of bruises.
He ends up leaving his room and finding his way to the banks of the Han River. The moon casts a melancholic glow on the river, similar to the one in his recent nightmare, and Wu Fan has to avert his eyes and breathe into cupped hands to remind himself that it had only been a dream.
He’d forgotten his father’s face, though. That part was reality.
Wu Fan runs a hand through his hair, hugging the jacket thrown around his shoulders tighter. He tries to pull his thoughts together.
His head’s a mess. Honestly, he’d had half a mind to call his mother after his father’s phone call, bitter that she hadn’t told him the truth and led him to believe that his father hated him for three years, but after a long hour of agonising, he’d decided against it. It wouldn’t do any good to confront her about it now and bring up the past for no reason. He understands now, after those piles of books, that there’s no one that he can control in this world but himself and how he lets himself be affected by situations.
He can’t control his mother, and he can’t control his father. They’re their own entity. So the only thing he can really do in this situation is to accept the reality, and move on.
But as with everything, it’s easier said than done.
His father’s necklace swings around his neck. Wu Fan pulls it out from his t-shirt and fiddles with it, running a thumb along the metal curves, inspecting the neat engraving. Li Jiaheng. The necklace has become a part of him now, the leather string worn and faded through four years of continuous wear. He takes it off his neck, cradling the metal in his hands. The river’s just in front of him, bottomless, endless, and it would be so easy to just throw it over the edge―
“Wu Fan ge!”
Wu Fan turns around, startled. It’s Yixing, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Yixing. How―”
“You weren’t exactly quiet when you closed the door. I followed you.” Yixing chuckles, sitting down next to Wu Fan. He inspects Wu Fan’s face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“And this is why you’ve just randomly decided to make a visit to the closest river in the middle of the night. Come on, ge, I’m not that unobservant. Is this about not being chosen for the new group?”
Wu Fan looks down. “Kind of. Not really. My father called me.”
Yixing frowns. “Oh. The father that you haven’t talked to in...five years?”
“Yeah. Wait, how do you know?”
“Amber told me.” Yixing scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “She was worried about you and asked me to keep an eye on you. Plus, you sleeptalk,” he finishes, shooting a sneaky glance at Wu Fan.
“Right,” Wu Fan says, clenching the necklace in his hands. The edges dig into his palms. Of course Amber would do something like that. “I was feeling a little overwhelmed.” Just a little. “I just needed some air. To sit outside for a while. I’ll be fine.”
“Promise? You can tell me if something’s wrong, you know.”
“I know. Promise.”
“Okay,” Yixing says, wrapping an arm around Wu Fan’s shoulders. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I’m staying here with you until you want to go back to the dorms.”
Yixing ends up falling asleep on Wu Fan’s lap. Wu Fan doesn’t have the heart to wake him, so he just takes off his jacket and drapes it over Yixing and lies down as well. They can just go back in the morning, and no one would be any wiser.
Wu Fan’s woken up by the vibrating of his phone. He rubs his eyes. The sun is just starting to rise, pinpricks of light against the horizon. He gently shifts to avoid waking Yixing, and takes the phone out of his back pocket.
There’s a single text sitting in his inbox. Wu Fan hand instinctively clenches around the necklace, still in his left hand, when he reads it.
I’m sorry. This is my apology. I don’t know what else I can do.
Wu Fan snaps his phone shut and puts his arm over his eyes. He lies there for five minutes, deep in thought, gripping the necklace, then he untangles the leather string and loops it back over his head. The weight dangles around his neck, a comfortable constant. Part of himself melding back.
Four years of patience, and he’s learnt. Forgive, but never forget. He’s not quite ready to talk to his father again just yet, but he will someday. As certain as that necklace is a part of him.
---
The arrangements for SM’s new Korean boyband don’t work out according to plan.
Kyuwan―the main vocalist―is called up to the army late February, another two members withdraw, and the formation goes to pieces after that. Junghun and Liu Chao are pulled out of the group for a ‘later debut’, whatever that might mean, and Wu Fan feels slightly sorry for them, having their hopes raised like that and sent crashing to the ground in one word.
“Kris?”
The vocal coach calls him into the main office when during group vocal training. The training director’s there too, along with another trainee Wu Fan recognises as the boy from Girls’ Generation’s music video. He was also in the original line-up, and Wu Fan wonders what he’s doing here.
“Kris, I want you to train your rap with Chanyeol here,” the vocal coach tells him. Chanyeol smiles unevenly and ducks his head, and Wu Fan bows back, confused. “Because we can’t have you rapping off-rhythm when you’re finally onstage, can we?”
“Onstage...?”
The training director nods. “You’ve been chosen for the second line-up. Be warned that this isn’t final though, so you still have to work hard, but otherwise, congratulations.”
Wu Fan gulps. Debut. A chance of debut. His chance of debut.
“They might give you a choice on your stage name. Kevin? Jiaheng? Kris? Wu Fan? Yi Fan? Probably something else entirely, knowing the creative director.” The vocal coach rolls his eyes at the last two words. “If you’re lucky they’ll let you choose, but be ready for anything. Do you have a preference?”
Wu Fan hesitates. “I don’t know. Can I think about that?”
The coach chuckles. “Think all you want. But first, the two of you head off to the practise room and work on the song I set. Go, go!”
to amber: they said i’d be making a debut
from amber: sweet!!! about time bro!!
ah…only maybe though.
why maybe? lol tell me what horrible english they have planned for you
uh hopefully none, i haven’t even heard the songs. but i’m sure the english will be wonderful as always lol. and only maybe…coz y’know how they are. think they’re still trying to decide the final lineup...and they’re asking what stage name i want to use.
kickass-kris yo!
…
what about kris-dawg! hahaha
………
amber…you have even worse suggestions than lu han and yixing combined…i didn’t think that was possible…
chill i was just kidding. if you go with wu fan then the fans can call you fan fan :D isn’t that cute
uhhh fan fan no thanks lol i dunno it feels too weird……wouldn’t you feel weird if fans called you yi yun? yun yun?
yeah, but there’s no such thing as ‘too weird’ when you’re an idol :p
hey i gtg dance choreo is starting again. don’t stress too much about it!
They’re called into the board of directors’ office a week later, all fifteen of the considered trainees.
Not all fifteen trainees would be debuting, they’d heard, so the tension runs high in the room. The trainees stand, shuffling in a line, all nervous. Wu Fan takes his spot between Yixing and Lu Han, crossing his arms protectively, and he nods a greeting at Chanyeol when their eyes meet. He’s grown quite close to Chanyeol after those hours of rap training in the basement room, listening to the selection of Korean hip-hop music Chanyeol had eagerly put onto his iPod. Wu Fan feels like that if anyone had the same musical interests as him amongst the trainees, it would have to be Chanyeol. It would suck if the company told them now that they didn’t want either of them anymore.
It turns out Wu Fan’s worries are unfounded. It’s just a briefing of the boyband project that they’ll be involved in.
Wu Fan has to admit that the China-Korea split is a rather innovative idea. Lee Soo Man’s idea, no doubt. A single group sharing the same name, split into two sub-groups, one half promoting in Korea, and the other half promoting in China with the same song, same dance, and same concept. It’s a never-before tried marketing strategy, and from the dissatisfied mumblings at the board table it seems some officials are still wary of this new uncharted approach, but have decided to proceed with it anyway.
“The group name will be EXO. Derived from ‘exoplanet’.”
There’s a little snigger-cough that comes from one of the trainees, and Wu Fan catches Chanyeol covering his mouth in a fake cough, lips upturned. Of course, he thinks as he hides a smile. It’s a ridiculous name, but then again SM does have a…questionable history with names. Wu Fan thinks of Amber’s misfortune at being put in a group named after a mathematical term and thinks, that they could be much worse off than ‘EXO’.
“We have to split you into Korea and China groups,” the official explains, pacing up and down the line, inspecting them all closely with a troubled expression. “But not just yet. We still need to assess you and create a skill distribution. Just remember that half of you will be sent to China, hmm?”
“Sent to China,” one of the trainees-Kyungsoo, Wu Fan guesses-breathes on the way out of the room. His voiced is an embodiment of both awe and horror. Most of the Korean trainees have similar looks of conflict on their faces. None of them want to go a foreign country. They all want to be in the Korean unit, but there’s no telling now who might be sent away to promote for the rest of their idol life in China. It’s quite a daunting prospective considering that none of the Korean trainees know very much Chinese at all.
“Do you think they’ll put us in the Chinese unit?” Wu Fan asks Yixing and Lu Han.
“Hopefully,” Yixing replies. “We’re Chinese, right?”
“Pretty sure I am. Don’t know about you,” Lu Han quips.
Wu Fan meets Yixing’s eyes and sees quiet hopefulness. It’s obvious which group he wants to be in. Yixing misses China, a lot-he’d want to promote there instead of in Korea. Lu Han next to him is nonchalant, humming a tune. He doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t seem to mind about anything at all, ever, now that Wu Fan thinks about it. He lives ungrounded and goes with the flow.
China. Chinese New Years. Festivals. Familiarity. Red lanterns. Wu Fan’s ready to go back. China.
f(x) make a comeback in April, and Amber goes and personally delivers a copy of their new album to Wu Fan, slipping into the dance studio at the crack of dawn, where Wu Fan’s going over some choreo. ‘Pinocchio,’ the album reads. It’s nicely designed and sturdy in Wu Fan’s hands. It’s exciting to think that maybe in a couple of months time he’d be holding his own album in his hands like this.
“For you,” Amber says, putting the album down on the stereo with a grin. She waves a quick goodbye and shuts the door before Wu Fan can get another word in.
Wu Fan sits down on the couch, puzzled. She’d usually stick around and talk for a while, but she must be busy with the comeback today to leave so hurriedly. He unwraps the album and flips straight to Amber’s Thanks To messages. Amber sure knows a lot of people, Wu Fan thinks as he scans down the list of names. Friends from L.A, company officials, all the sunbae groups, and then he sees Joonmyun, Jongin, Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, K.Li, Yixing-
K.Li
Wu Fan darts out of the studio.
“Wait,” Wu Fan shouts, running through the maze of corridors on the basement level, trying to find the carpark exit. He sees Amber turn a corner. “Wait, Amber!” he shouts again, turning the corner and almost catapulting into her.
“Whoa, careful! Oh, hey dude, what’s up?”
“You…you called me K. Li,” Wu Fan mutters, puffing.
Amber chuckles, taking off her cap and scratching her head. Wu Fan hands her the album. “Oh, the message. Damn, you read fast.”
“I am trilingual. K. Li. Kevin Li, right? Why?”
“I…actually don’t know.” Amber leans against the railings of the stairs, and pulls her cap back down. “I guess was thinking about what you said about the stage name thing and all when they asked me to write the messages.”
“Name,” Wu Fan echoes. “Yeah, I didn’t-don’t know what to use.”
Amber hands him back the album, clasping a hand over his. “I was thinking really hard about this, and I want to tell you that this isn’t just for the stage, but…you know. For the past few years. Does it really matter what name you use? A name’s just a name. You’re you. I don’t think you should feel so tortured over it.” A twinkle appears in her eyes. “I would quote some Shakespeare, but I might make myself barf from the cheesy.”
Wu Fan laughs. Amber might be younger than him, but in some ways she’s a lot more insightful. Her words are absolutely right. He cuffs Amber around the neck. “Yeah, spare me the Shakespeare.”
Amber pushes him away, wrinkling her nose. “Dude, you stink! Lemme go, I’m late, I have to go to get stage costumes fitted today.”
“I’ll walk you to the carpark.”
Wu Fan’s version of walking Amber to the carpark involves pushing Amber in front of him by the shoulders. Amber laughs that laugh of hers and flaps her arms, letting herself be steered.
“Oh, one more thing,” Amber says when they’re there and Wu Fan’s already waved his goodbye. She beckons for Wu Fan to stoop down. Wu Fan leans down, and Amber tiptoes and quickly presses a kiss to his cheek. Wu Fan rubs the spot instinctively, surprised. His heart jumps.
“What was that for?”
“Nothing.” Amber grins. “Think of it as a promise that you’ll stand onstage with me when you debut, yes? Yes? Good!”
Amber looks around to the black van, waiting in the carpark. The other members are there already, Soojung tapping her shoes impatiently against the concrete. “I gotta go now, for real. Catch you later!”
Wu Fan grips the album. “Thanks, Amber. Yi Yun.”
---
Twelve of them make the final cut.
Five of the original fifteen boys in consideration are dropped, and two new trainees replace them. The first is a quiet Qingdao boy called Huang Zitao. Zitao’s Korean is so bad that it’s almost endearing to the confirmed members of the group, but the dropped trainees don’t seem to be too amused at this non-Korean newbie usurping their spot.
“개 씨발 쓰레기새끼,” Wu Fan hears one of them say to Zitao after training with a big smile on his face. Taking advantage of the fact that the new Chinese trainee can’t understand Korean, no doubt. Zitao smiles back, mistaking it for a friendly greeting, and Wu Fan exchanges looks with Yixing and swears he’ll get back at them the next time he sees them.
The other is a boy with razor-sharp cheekbones who introduces himself as Kim Jongdae. He doesn’t get nearly as cold a treatment, because he’s Korean, and he has a voice of gold.
“Jongdae, lead singer,” the creative director says. “Minseok, you won’t be a main singer anymore, we’re sending you to China with Jongdae and the four Chinese trainees here. We’re giving you two Chinese names now. Don’t respond to Jongdae and Minseok anymore, but Chen and Xiumin, understand?”
Chanyeol pouts slightly, unhappy at being separated from Wu Fan, but Wu Fan doubts that he would’ve liked China, with his exuberant personality. He’d have nowhere to display his enthusiasm without knowing the language, and that would frustrate Chanyeol to no end.
“Joonmyun, you’re the leader of EXO-K. We’ll choose you a stage name, too, Joonmyun sounds too old-fashioned. Wu Fan, you’re the leader of EXO-M. You got a name preference?”
“Uhh-”
“-nevermind actually, your English name is Kris, isn’t it. Kris is nice, Kris will do. Yixing, we’re gonna call you Lay though.”
Wu Fan rolls his neck. He’d agonised over this, and the creative director had just chosen something on the spot, as simple as that. The vocal coach was obviously getting at something with that eye-roll.
Lu Han laughs at Yixing’s misfortune. “Like an egg,” he crows when they get out of the office. He’d gotten to keep his real name. “Hey, Laylay, remember, 你蛋疼不?”
Suddenly, there’s not enough time for everything. Group rehearsals, vocal training sessions, learning and recording and rerecording and rerecording and relearning the songs and dance moves and formations and greetings and ‘personal talents’, and the months pass in the blink of an eye.
It’s good, being busy. Or at least, it doesn’t allow Wu Fan any time to worry about other things, things 5000 miles away that he still isn’t ready to face. He casually pushes it to the back of his mind. His father doesn’t text or call after that day anyway, and Wu Fan doesn’t know if he’s happy with this silence or if he’s still waiting for his father to contact him again.
SM choose him to star in a VCR for Girls’ Generation’s concert in Taiwan, and he goes through the filming in a daze, bewildered at finally actually meeting them, because even though they’re in the same company, the girls are never around the training buildings much. When Wu Fan goes out with Zitao to a tattoo parlour to get some piercings done for their album jacket shooting later in September, he’s surprised that there are people on the streets that recognise him, as ‘that trainee from SM’. It’s surprising, but a nice feeling. It’s the feeling of self-worth.
Then before he knows it, it’s November 6th.
It’s the same as any other day, except there’s something inherently different about it, because he turns twenty-one.
Twenty-one is an important age. He’s legal in all countries now, for one, but it also feels like he’s become a proper, proper adult. His eighteenth had been spent wallowing in the uncertainty of his parents’ pending divorce, in the uncertainty of Korea, and he’d in no way had any direction in his life at that point in time. So he couldn’t have been called an adult then. An adolescent at most. A lost child.
But it also means responsibility. And with a little voice nagging him at the back of his mind, he thinks that today is as good as any other day to set things straight.
Wu Fan sits in the bathroom, phone pressed to his ear. His father picks up after two missed calls. He sounds much older, more reserved. “Jiaheng,” he says. Typical. “Jiaheng-I mean-”
“It’s okay, Dad. You can call me whatever you want.”
“Okay. Jiaheng’s okay?”
“Jiaheng’s okay.”
“Ah, before I forget, happy birthday. Twenty-one now. Truly an adult.” Wu Fan can’t help his slight smile. His father had actually remembered, for once.
“Thanks.”
There’s a long silence. Now that he’s actually called, Wu Fan doesn’t know where to start. He taps his fingers on his lap, worrying his lip, heart palpitating. His father sighs.
“I spoke to your mother, by the way. After what you said-it was a wake-up call. I messed up a lot, and I’m sorry for it. To you, to your mother.”
“I’m glad you realised.”
“I mean it, Jiaheng. I’m really sorry.”
“I know, Dad. I believe you.”
“Good, good.”
Wu Fan shifts. He’s not sure if he wants to know, but now’s the only chance he has to ask. “How’s your…current relationship?”
“Ah, Naomi, she,” his father sounds pained. “She left me. I’m seeing a-a psychiatrist, counsellor, whatever you want to call it, now. They referred me to some, uh, relationship and anger management classes.”
Wu Fan nods. It was for the better. “I’m glad. Keep going, okay?”
“Enough about me. How’s Korea? Any news?”
“Well,” Wu Fan purses his lips. “I’m debuting. In an idol group in China. As a singer.”
“Not an actor?”
“I can act on the side. They said they’ll give me acting opportunities in the future.”
“Take them all. You can’t afford to think of anyone else in this situation. You have to be greedy to achieve your goals.” Wu Fan smiles wryly. Once a businessman, always a businessman. He touches the necklace around his neck, feeling the familiar metal curves.
“Don’t worry, I will.” There’s a rapping at the door and Wu Fan pulls open the door to see Yixing standing there, looking like he urgently needs to pee. “Uh, I have to go now. Stay healthy, Dad.”
“Yes, yes, Jiaheng. Happy birthday again.”
Wu Fan hangs up and vacates his position on the toilet before Yixing lets loose in his pants.
“Wait, that was your dad?” Yixing asks, groaning as he relieves himself. “I thought you weren’t talking to him?”
“I thought so too,” Wu Fan says, flipping the phone in the air. He catches it and lets out a chuckle. It feels a bit like a resolution. “But I guess I grew up.”
Wu Fan’s mother also calls a day later, apologetic for missing his birthday. She quickly blames the time difference between Vancouver and Seoul, which Wu Fan rolls his eyes at, and ends up gushing to Wu Fan about the fact that she’d just been in the hospital accompanying his youngest aunt while she had her baby. Wu Fan now has a new cousin, and they share the same birthday, twenty-one years apart. It’s an amazing coincidence. Wu Fan is mollified. He forgets that the other people in his life, his family, are all moving on, moving forwards.
“You’re debuting? In China?” his mother exclaims when Wu Fan breaks the news. “That’s great! It’s been years since I’ve seen you though. You won’t have time after you debut...will you be able to come for a visit? The company would never let you in the last few years…”
Wu Fan doesn’t have the heart to tell her that he hadn’t been back the last few years because he’d elected not to go, not wanting to feel like an intruder on her and Nicholas. Plus, airfares were expensive, and he wasn’t earning anything. He’d been reluctant to make her pay.
“Tell you what,” his mother says animatedly. “Nicholas and I are actually going to Los Angeles for a holiday at the end of the year. Do you want to come join us too? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could join us-I think it’s time you properly met Nick too. Please say you can!”
The company allows him five days.
All the filming for the music videos and teasers are scheduled to be finished mid-December, and they’re not slated for debut until after the 100-day online teaser promotion strategy, so there’s absolutely nothing stopping him from taking a week off.
“Hey, guess what,” Wu Fan says, popping into the music studio. Henry and Amber are there working on some kind of Christmas song, Henry squinting at the scrawled notes on the sheet music and Amber poking at a key on the piano.
“Oh, oh, you’re going to cancel the ten bucks I owe you from losing that basketball match last time and call it even?” Henry says hopefully, strumming a chord on the guitar for emphasis. Wu Fan raises his eyebrows at him.
“No, but thanks for reminding me.” Henry curses. Amber laughs at him. “I’m going to L.A.! To visit my mum. I haven’t seen her since I entered SM.”
“About time,” Amber says, grinning widely and throwing her hat at Wu Fan. Wu Fan catches it and puts it on. “Here, present, you can wear it when you’re in L.A. Don’t forget to visit Hollywood while you’re there!”
Wu Fan grins. It’s somewhere he’s wanted to go ever since his involvement in the drama club, back in Vancouver. He’s heard all about it, the Hollywood Walk of Fame, where every aspiring actor wants to end up. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
---
Los Angeles meets all his expectations and more.
His mother’s waiting for him at the airport, wearing a bright red dress and matching lipstick. There are crow’s feet around her eyes, and laugh lines around her lips when she shouts his name and smiles brightly. She’s aged, he thinks, as he pulls her into a hug, but she’s aged in a good way. There’s more confidence in the way she moves, an easy vibrancy Wu Fan’s never seen her with before.
“Wu Fan! This is Nick.” She introduces him to a kindly looking Canadian man wearing a blue polo shirt standing next to her. He reminds Wu Fan slightly of a bear, both in stature and physique, and he has a roaring laugh, and Wu Fan vaguely remembers seeing him around once or twice at the apartment back in Vancouver. Wu Fan can see why his mother’s mentality has improved so much these few years. Nicholas is a natural mood-maker, and he makes Wu Fan feel instantly comfortable.
“Thank you,” he mutters to Nick when his mother runs off to the restroom. “Thank you, for-for being so good to Mum. She needs it.”
“She’s a wonderful lady,” Nick says, lips twitching into a blissful smile, “I’m lucky to have her.” Wu Fan feels like he can finally rest assured.
There’s a block-up in the traffic on the way from their hotel to Walk of Fame, so Nick suggests walking instead. They’re on Vine Street already, and surely it couldn’t be too hard to reach Hollywood Boulevard with a map and a couple of pointers.
“Wu Fan,” his mother says to Wu Fan as they’re walking, quietly in Chinese. Nick’s walking ahead of them, map held in his hands, concentrating on trying to differentiate up from down. She wrings her hands. “Wu Fan, it’s not the best time, but I have to say something. About your father...”
Wu Fan turns to look at her. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. Not now.”
His mother looks guilty. “No, no, I have to. I have to say it to your face. I feel bad for lying to you, Wu Fan, he didn’t-didn’t want to give up-”
“-he didn’t want to give up custody, or have me change my name. It’s okay, Mum. I know,” Wu Fan finishes, holding his mother’s arm tightly so they don’t get separated in the crowd. When he glances back at her, she’s staring at him in shock.
“H-how-”
“I talked to him. He got my phone number somehow. It’s okay, calm down. I don’t blame you, so don’t feel guilty anymore.”
“I think this is it!” Nicholas says, turning around and beaming. Wu Fan gives his mother’s arm a squeeze, and she nods, placing a hand over Wu Fan’s. “Hollywood Walk of Fame!”
Wu Fan stands on the pathway, looking at the first star beneath his feet. 2400 bronze stars from this point, embedded into the pavement. He looks to sky above, and sees a row of flashing red and amber lights, illuminating the pavement.
He smiles. The lights remind him in a strange way of the red lanterns that used to hang at the markets in Guangzhou. Those red lanterns that meant so much to him as a child, that he stuck by and believed in no matter what, that one thread of superstition that was his ray of hope. Instead of lanterns today, it’s the lights of Los Angeles above him, and the stars on the pavement below. Wu Fan closes his eyes. He pulls down his-Amber’s-hat. His fingers travel to his neck, where his circular metal necklace hangs, and he grips onto it like a lifeline and makes a wish.
Happiness. Peace. Stability. For his mother and his father, and for himself.
from amber: you awake?
to amber: course not
what a liar
i went to walk of fame today. thought of you
i’d be offended if you didn’t, putting up with you for this long :P
Wu Fan grins. Thoughtful, he pulls up a blank message. They’re probably all doing fine in Korea right now, but they’re the people who have pulled Wu Fan through his training period, and he feels extra sentimental today.
to yixing: hey yixing. thanks for putting up with me for the past year. i’m in la, just saw the walk of fame today. i hope you’re not pulling all-nighters in the dance room again.
to henry: YO MAN i’m in la. if you’re still in the studio.....go to bed! and gimme a shout if you want souvenirs. aweeesome
to lu han: ten bucks you’re reading manga right now. go kick yixing off to bed for me if he’s still pushing himself!
from lu han: kicked yixing off the bed, close enough. you owe me ten bucks!
Wu Fan snorts. Of course Lu Han would. He shakes his head in mirth as he flicks through the photos on his phone, and selects the one he took on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, right after he made his wish.
人人网
2011年12月29日
Photo post: I will have my name there one day. Wait for me.
And it doesn’t matter which one.
Wu Fan lies back on the recliner and looks up at his phone, admiring the photo of his two feet standing on the stars, and imagines. It doesn’t matter which name he uses, just as long as he’s him and carving his own path and not dwelling on the pain of the past.
人人网 notification: Yixing has commented on your post:
“(lu han kicked me out of the bed.......) duizhang, jiayou!”
Wu Fan laughs quietly at his phone. He’ll be making his debut soon, as the leader of EXO-M. It’s a huge responsibility, but he thinks he can handle it. Whatever potential he has, and whatever chances he’ll be offered, only time will tell. The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west, and as long as that remains unchanging, the world is his to conquer, whoever he is.
It’s taken years, but right on the cusp of the new year, Wu Fan-Wu Yi Fan, Kris Wu, Kevin Li, Li Jiaheng, each and every one of him-walks towards a yet unwritten future with a lighter heart.
完
a/n: ok omg influx of kris feelings and this happened u___u. disclaimer that this is in no way true!
very long tl;dr notes follow; read at own risk!
1. so apparently! wu fan may have actually lived in canada since he was small, moved to guangzhou for a year in 8th grade, then back to canada. that apparent info was released i think after i’d figured out the plotline and written 5k bawls. and also somehow my brain told me his accented english = he’d definitely only lived in canada for two years lol u___u. alternatively, he went to a sports school when he was small then transferred into guangzhou no 7 middle school halfway through the school year in 8th grade and then went to canada. EITHER WAY he was...not born in canada. or so i hear so SHH THS IS STILL FEASIBLE. i have no souces to refer to except for c-fans his life is a mystery l-o-l sorry about the discrepancy.
2. wu fan was the captain of his basketball team in guangzhou, but no idea about his actual prospects. apparently he was pretty damn good though.
3. yes vancouver actually is 5000 miles away from seoul \o/ the more you know.
4. i have not had the tragedy of going through a custody battle before, much less in canada. from what i know, the two parties must be separated for 12 months before an application can be made, with the divorce being final 30 days from the court appearance date. as such, i also have not looked at the legislation regarding immigrated couples, lack of prenup, and their rights as non-canadian citizens in canadian courts, much less family registry business. so. everything with a grain of salt.
5. yes ‘kris’ is an ‘asymmetrical dagger or sword most strongly associated with the culture of Indonesia’ source: WIKIPEDIA most reliable ofc.
6. wu fan’s full name wu yi fan (吴亦凡) means ‘without’ ‘also’ ‘ordinary’ aka ‘extraordinary’. sourced from here
7. seriously, he has that circular necklace in half of his predebut pics. i had to make something out of it. ALL THE CREATIVE LIBERTIES.
8. i am well aware you cannot just run away from sm to another country because a) need tickets b) need passport c) need visa d) violation of contract, and a person would probably think more than that before leaving, but let’s ignore that, shall we n__n.
9. hahaha so our dear wu fan was seen reading a book called “因为痛，所以叫青春” aka “because it hurts, that’s why it’s called adolescence” so n_____n uses as filler text. source: pic
10. i have absolutely no idea who the prospectives were apart from the stuff i dug out or how the hell they did the selection for exo and when it was finalised so extreme uh, liberties! also 개 씨발 쓰레기새끼 translates roughly to “fucking dog bastard useless piece of rubbish” do not say this to people please u_u. and 你蛋疼不 = "does your egg hurt" = web slang for saying "are you an idiot/bored out of your mind" and lu han posted this on yixing's 'lonly...' renren status back in dec 2010 l-o-l ilh.
11. absolutely blames the influx of krisber on that damn like a g6 performance from smtown anaheim…and this fucking video i’m just gonna cry at this. amber basically...describes everything kris. watch me implode.
12. i don’t have to say that i don’t know anything at all about wu fan’s parents right? (i...am also very very aware that there are better ways i could've handled certain issues, regarding the divorce. i'm sorry if it wasn't done right, i based it off a single person's rl situation and i understand not everyone has the same experience. i am open to messages if you think there are glaring errors in the characters' mentality.)
13. if you’re actually still here then have a fucking heart from me for enduring this nonsense, have several. and a few flowers too. ❀.•❤•.✿.•❤•❀.•❤•.✿.•❤•