Insecure
INSECURE; G
There’s days where all Changmin feels like doing is sitting by the cloud wall and using it to recall old and long forgotten memories. If he tilts his head one way he can almost remember the exact spot where he had tripped over the hem of his too long sweats that Jaejoong had insisted he buy because they were “cool,” and if he holds his head high and stares at the right side of the ceiling, he can make out the after stain of the huge paper wad Yoochun had spat up there one moment in an act of teenage rebellion. “We’re loose kids, so what? You think they’re going to fire us for it?” Yoochun would tell him, and Changmin could almost spot the dismal mark his own paper spat wad had left years later, not nearly as fun or lighthearted. He sighs, a lone finger sliding against the wooden floor, a place his shoes had squeaked and skidded on over the years, even that one time he had accidentally walked in on Junsu and Taeyeon making out, his shoes making the loudest sounds as he tried to retreat back quietly; and yet he had enjoyed the alarmed “caught” face Junsu couldn’t be quick enough to hide. He picks up his finger from the wood and looks at it - not a single trace of dust or an infraction of perfection - everything a rehearsal room for perfect idols should be.
Finally he looks over at himself in the adjacent mirror, flicking his bangs back filled with wet sweat from his lonesome practice the hour before. He’s still young, inherently so but all the drama he’s encountered has aged him back a milestone: he wasn’t a maknae any longer. He dips his head low, wrinkling his forehead for a sign of aging, contemplating botox for a moment, but then deciding against because if Yunho was still around, he’d sure as hell give him grief about any sort of touch up. “But your teeth, hyung-” would probably be followed by a defiant “My teeth were an overall hindrance to the visual of our group.”
The door creaks open, cautious to those who might still be practicing proud and Changmin instantly flops himself to the side, tilting his head sideways so he doesn’t have to think anymore.
“He’s gone.”
“I know man, Donghae just called and told me.” Kyuhyun comes and sits behind him, punching Changmin’s shoulder hard with affection before pulling him into a lazy embrace. They watch either’s reflection in the mirror in silence, observing the way their hands fall into each other’s perfectly, the way their bodies don’t separate as they sit side by side, instead symmetrically ending as one.
“Two years will fly by before you know it.”
“Did it hurt this bad the first time? When Kangin left?”
“Yeah,” Kyuhyun says, bending over a little to play with the shoelaces on Changmin’s left feet. The laces were bright ugly red and yellow, just like Kyuhyun’s, a silly present they had bought together Christmases ago as a joke present but had lasted longer than some more of their more meaningful ones like expensive watches, advanced cameras, wine, wine, and some more wine. “It was really painful. Feels like a part of your soul is leaving you, oddly. When it’s not supposed to.”
“I know how that is.”
“But you get used to it. After another one leaves, and then another. The pain subsides. You're lucky you only have to go through it once.”
“I guess,” Changmin says not really feeling lucky at all. He turns and takes a good look at Kyuhyun. His face is sagging and wallowed in, acne scars and late nights taking a toll on his overall natural appearance and for a second Changmin wants to suggest that they take some sort of course on beautifying yourself for men before he remembers this is Kyuhyun, the almost merciless as him Kyuhyun and that the idea would never fly well.
“What?” Kyuhyun bats a hand around his face, mouth twisting in embarrassment. “What’s on me?”
“Nothing, dumbass. You’re just really pretty.”
Changmin often wakes up in the warm arms of Kyuhyun, hair nuzzling into his chin, always sure to take a moment and appreciate the beauty of what Kyuhyun looks like when he’s sleeping. So pure and unaffected by everything else. And then there’s those other times where it’s the other way around and Kyuhyun is wrapped in Changmin’s arms, delicate and fragile like an unsuspecting baby. They could throw each other off and fight for blanket rights; but they were special friends, best friends and an unspoken promise to cuddle for comfort went without saying on mornings like these.
Changmin wakes up that particular morning with a dry eye and an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He blinks twenty times until he comes to, unwrapping himself from Kyuhyun’s soft hold, until Kyuhyun wakes up, nose scrunched and then he opens his eyes wide before he even lets Changmin get a chance to explain what day it is.
“He’s coming back today.”
And so he is. The boys scramble out of bed and dive out for their clothes, anxious but mostly excited. Kyuhyun calls his hyungs with much enthusiasm, “Leeteuk hyung, have everything ready!” and then they kick on their shoes and leave. Changmin can’t remember the last time he had felt so inexperienced or unready: the feeling was like that of when he had first stepped on the stage, too tall and too nervous, voice cracking with each beat, his eyes shooting like a laser beam to the camera in fear of looking at other places or making eye contact with another soul. It was Yunho who had comforted him that day, Yunho had been the one to tell them that everything was okay, and that he had done a great job belting his one line in the song - Yunho was the king of making everything okay.
And then he’s there, standing two feet in front of the boys, fake teeth gleaming, the new crow eyes apparent but beaming. Changmin falters and can’t remember how to walk, but it’s fine because Kyuhyun is taking Yunho into a loving embrace telling him “Congratulations hyung, you look well, there’s totally not a grand party waiting for you back at headquarters or anything like that,” saying all the things that Changmin was supposed to say. Changmin thinks about something better he could say but strong arms embrace him before he can think of one measly sentence and there’s a soft whisper in the ear, so soft he could’ve been possibly making it up-
“I’ve missed you Changmin-ah.”
A part of him breaks down in Yunho’s tough hold and he holds back the tears, loosely slacking his arms around Yunho’s lean waist, remembering the familiar feel and where his muscles ended and began. He smells like home; musky and vanilla and near, Changmin thinks as he closes his eyes at ease for the first time in forever. Even his shoulder is still the greatest place to lay on; firm and unyielding: this is a hyung. This is Yunho hyung.
“Thanks for looking after him, Kyuhyunnie,” Yunho smiles back at Kyuhyun, welcoming him into the embrace instead of just awkwardly looking on and for a second Changmin resents everything Yunho embodies - why did he always have to be such a hero, and couldn’t he ever just slack and be selfish maybe - but that would be entirely uncharacteristic. As if on queue, Kyuhyun reaches over in between the limbs of Yunho’s arms and Changmin’s lanky legs and punches Changmin in the stomach for a loving reminder of his affection.
It’s like this that Changmin remembers everything. He remembers Yunho’s kind embraces and Kyuhyun’s annoying dotes and he mostly remembers that the concept of being alone was completely novel and foreign for him now. And luckily. He wraps an arm around Kyuhyun, squeezing him close into the new trio hug, and Kyuhyun hugs him back, hands itching for a tickle as Yunho lets out a loud cheer and appreciative laugh. It’s always good to be home.
“Let’s get some ice cream before the party, boys. I’ve been craving rocky road for two years!”
---
f l u f f
There’s days where all Changmin feels like doing is sitting by the cloud wall and using it to recall old and long forgotten memories. If he tilts his head one way he can almost remember the exact spot where he had tripped over the hem of his too long sweats that Jaejoong had insisted he buy because they were “cool,” and if he holds his head high and stares at the right side of the ceiling, he can make out the after stain of the huge paper wad Yoochun had spat up there one moment in an act of teenage rebellion. “We’re loose kids, so what? You think they’re going to fire us for it?” Yoochun would tell him, and Changmin could almost spot the dismal mark his own paper spat wad had left years later, not nearly as fun or lighthearted. He sighs, a lone finger sliding against the wooden floor, a place his shoes had squeaked and skidded on over the years, even that one time he had accidentally walked in on Junsu and Taeyeon making out, his shoes making the loudest sounds as he tried to retreat back quietly; and yet he had enjoyed the alarmed “caught” face Junsu couldn’t be quick enough to hide. He picks up his finger from the wood and looks at it - not a single trace of dust or an infraction of perfection - everything a rehearsal room for perfect idols should be.
Finally he looks over at himself in the adjacent mirror, flicking his bangs back filled with wet sweat from his lonesome practice the hour before. He’s still young, inherently so but all the drama he’s encountered has aged him back a milestone: he wasn’t a maknae any longer. He dips his head low, wrinkling his forehead for a sign of aging, contemplating botox for a moment, but then deciding against because if Yunho was still around, he’d sure as hell give him grief about any sort of touch up. “But your teeth, hyung-” would probably be followed by a defiant “My teeth were an overall hindrance to the visual of our group.”
The door creaks open, cautious to those who might still be practicing proud and Changmin instantly flops himself to the side, tilting his head sideways so he doesn’t have to think anymore.
“He’s gone.”
“I know man, Donghae just called and told me.” Kyuhyun comes and sits behind him, punching Changmin’s shoulder hard with affection before pulling him into a lazy embrace. They watch either’s reflection in the mirror in silence, observing the way their hands fall into each other’s perfectly, the way their bodies don’t separate as they sit side by side, instead symmetrically ending as one.
“Two years will fly by before you know it.”
“Did it hurt this bad the first time? When Kangin left?”
“Yeah,” Kyuhyun says, bending over a little to play with the shoelaces on Changmin’s left feet. The laces were bright ugly red and yellow, just like Kyuhyun’s, a silly present they had bought together Christmases ago as a joke present but had lasted longer than some more of their more meaningful ones like expensive watches, advanced cameras, wine, wine, and some more wine. “It was really painful. Feels like a part of your soul is leaving you, oddly. When it’s not supposed to.”
“I know how that is.”
“But you get used to it. After another one leaves, and then another. The pain subsides. You're lucky you only have to go through it once.”
“I guess,” Changmin says not really feeling lucky at all. He turns and takes a good look at Kyuhyun. His face is sagging and wallowed in, acne scars and late nights taking a toll on his overall natural appearance and for a second Changmin wants to suggest that they take some sort of course on beautifying yourself for men before he remembers this is Kyuhyun, the almost merciless as him Kyuhyun and that the idea would never fly well.
“What?” Kyuhyun bats a hand around his face, mouth twisting in embarrassment. “What’s on me?”
“Nothing, dumbass. You’re just really pretty.”
Changmin often wakes up in the warm arms of Kyuhyun, hair nuzzling into his chin, always sure to take a moment and appreciate the beauty of what Kyuhyun looks like when he’s sleeping. So pure and unaffected by everything else. And then there’s those other times where it’s the other way around and Kyuhyun is wrapped in Changmin’s arms, delicate and fragile like an unsuspecting baby. They could throw each other off and fight for blanket rights; but they were special friends, best friends and an unspoken promise to cuddle for comfort went without saying on mornings like these.
Changmin wakes up that particular morning with a dry eye and an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He blinks twenty times until he comes to, unwrapping himself from Kyuhyun’s soft hold, until Kyuhyun wakes up, nose scrunched and then he opens his eyes wide before he even lets Changmin get a chance to explain what day it is.
“He’s coming back today.”
And so he is. The boys scramble out of bed and dive out for their clothes, anxious but mostly excited. Kyuhyun calls his hyungs with much enthusiasm, “Leeteuk hyung, have everything ready!” and then they kick on their shoes and leave. Changmin can’t remember the last time he had felt so inexperienced or unready: the feeling was like that of when he had first stepped on the stage, too tall and too nervous, voice cracking with each beat, his eyes shooting like a laser beam to the camera in fear of looking at other places or making eye contact with another soul. It was Yunho who had comforted him that day, Yunho had been the one to tell them that everything was okay, and that he had done a great job belting his one line in the song - Yunho was the king of making everything okay.
And then he’s there, standing two feet in front of the boys, fake teeth gleaming, the new crow eyes apparent but beaming. Changmin falters and can’t remember how to walk, but it’s fine because Kyuhyun is taking Yunho into a loving embrace telling him “Congratulations hyung, you look well, there’s totally not a grand party waiting for you back at headquarters or anything like that,” saying all the things that Changmin was supposed to say. Changmin thinks about something better he could say but strong arms embrace him before he can think of one measly sentence and there’s a soft whisper in the ear, so soft he could’ve been possibly making it up-
“I’ve missed you Changmin-ah.”
A part of him breaks down in Yunho’s tough hold and he holds back the tears, loosely slacking his arms around Yunho’s lean waist, remembering the familiar feel and where his muscles ended and began. He smells like home; musky and vanilla and near, Changmin thinks as he closes his eyes at ease for the first time in forever. Even his shoulder is still the greatest place to lay on; firm and unyielding: this is a hyung. This is Yunho hyung.
“Thanks for looking after him, Kyuhyunnie,” Yunho smiles back at Kyuhyun, welcoming him into the embrace instead of just awkwardly looking on and for a second Changmin resents everything Yunho embodies - why did he always have to be such a hero, and couldn’t he ever just slack and be selfish maybe - but that would be entirely uncharacteristic. As if on queue, Kyuhyun reaches over in between the limbs of Yunho’s arms and Changmin’s lanky legs and punches Changmin in the stomach for a loving reminder of his affection.
It’s like this that Changmin remembers everything. He remembers Yunho’s kind embraces and Kyuhyun’s annoying dotes and he mostly remembers that the concept of being alone was completely novel and foreign for him now. And luckily. He wraps an arm around Kyuhyun, squeezing him close into the new trio hug, and Kyuhyun hugs him back, hands itching for a tickle as Yunho lets out a loud cheer and appreciative laugh. It’s always good to be home.
“Let’s get some ice cream before the party, boys. I’ve been craving rocky road for two years!”
---
f l u f f