Gen: We Are The Titans
Title: We Are The Titans
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: 2, 819
Summary: There's something different about the house now that Jaebum is gone.
Notes: thank you to freefallskyline for being awesomesauce with her editing and hand holding skills, and to coincidal for helping me out and being a great creep :))))))))) iluboth ♥
we are the titans
It can go without being said that the house is different once a certain person leaves for America. There’s a different kind of cold that seeps into the floors, a different kind of cold that wants to penetrate through concrete and brick. It settles for the occupants of the apartment after finding it’s not welcomed.
Silly boys, they welcome the cold with open arms, let it create a home of its own in their bones, blood, skin. It’s the new chill that’s taken over them that turns them into different people, unrecognizable at first because they’ve built walls. They’ve been given bricks and wet cement, which they take eagerly because they’re hurt, upset - there’s a huge, gaping hole in their being.
They’re trying to fix it by building walls, surrounding their personal being by hard cement - unbreakable. They don’t want to get hurt again.
Silly boys, they don’t realise they can’t build a wall unless they were one from the beginning.
*
Taekyeon stays in the bathroom longer than necessary after he showers. He practices different faces in the mirror. He knots his eyebrows, clenches his teeth and narrows his eyes - he keeps this face for ten seconds before relaxing his facial muscles and doing it again.
“Ok, ok, let’s do this now.”
Taekyeon adjusts the towel around his waist and proceeds to bow. He stands up, back straight, legs parallel to his shoulders and he smiles. “Hi, my name is Taekyeon.” The smile drops just as quickly as he puts it on, he frowns at the mirror in frustration and tries it again.
“Be natural,” he mutters under his breath as he bows. He does it again - smile, smile, smile, bow, bow, bow, laughs, laughs, fake laughs.
He can’t win.
He puts on his glasses that he left at the sink. Staring at the mirror once more before he leaves, there’s a realization that it’s a different person looking right back at him. There’s no longer the nervous nerd from five years ago who injured his waist in order to debut; he’s gone and disappeared - forgotten. The one who stares back is different, changed … more confident. Confident? No, definitely not.
Tired and weary, his eyes drop to the floor as he puts his sweats and boxers on, he sighs because he’s lost. The road that he travelled joyously has been cut off, there’s a fork in it now and he’s unsure where to go. So he starts to walk back, walk back towards the mirror where he practises his manly image, his public image.
Taekyeon leaves the bathroom but he’s still there. He’s still trapped in the mirror.
*
The conversations are like scripts being handed to him - invisible scripts. It’s a conversation that’s been paused, rewound, played so many times it has its own cassette somewhere in the house.
“Appa,” Wooyoung says into his cell phone, his hand covering his eyes, listening to what his father has to say on the other side.
You’re still emotional.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”
Your smile is fake, anyone can tell you’re trying too hard.
“I’m sorry, I’ll fix it for next time.”
You have to be strong - why are you still so emotional?
“I’m sorry it’s just really hard for me right now and-”
No, you’re just making it hard on yourself. It doesn’t have to be that way if you just listen to me, Wooyoung.
“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll try harder next time.”
Good.
Wooyoung flips his cell phone closed and flops back onto his bed. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily, holding back the urge to cry.
There was a scene like this once. Act II, Scene V of Conversations with an Overbearing Father.
Wooyoung’s lying on his bed, hand clutching onto his cell phone like it’s a life line. He doesn’t notice when Jaebum walks in. He only notices when Jaebum sits next to him on the bed.
“It’ll be okay,” Jaebum whispers and grabs Wooyoung’s hand that’s holding the cell phone. He pries it open, takes out the device and throws it somewhere on the bed. He lies next to Wooyoung, hands crossed underneath his head.
“Do you remember our first debut stage?” Jaebum says, doesn’t wait for Wooyoung to respond - because he won’t - and continues yapping. “Remember how nervous we were?”
“Almost shit my pants,” Wooyoung mumbles, voice muffled with his face pressed to the pillow. “Would have too if I hadn’t been too nervous.”
Jaebum laughs, turning onto his side and pulls Wooyoung to face him. He smiles at the younger boy. “Think about how we felt afterwards, though. Do you remember it?”
“Felt … felt fucking amazing.”
“I know, so just think of that whenever he calls.” Jaebum’s smile softens. “It doesn’t always have to be those words, Wooyoung.”
“It’s always about-”
“Then think of my words,” Jaebum interrupts forcefully. “Think of my words.”
“What words?”
“What words?” Jaebum pretends to be offended and gets up to sit on the bed. He turns around to look at Wooyoung staring up at him in confusion. “What time is it now?”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes and turns his back on Jaebum.
Jaebum pinches exposed skin, once, twice - “Ow! 2PM! Ok?”
“That’s right.”
Except that’s not the scene anymore. It’s Act IV, Scene II of Conversations with an Overbearing Father post Leader Leaving for America.
It’s hell.
*
There’s a difference between looking old and being old. Chansung looks old but doesn’t feel it - he acts it. He wants to be tough, wants to be macho like Jaebum, wants to be on top of everything and everyone, doesn’t want to be left behind. When Jaebum leaves Chansung changes.
Chansung learns how to stand by himself and to not be dependent on anyone. Or so the story goes, anyway. Late at night when Chansung thinks Wooyoung’s sleeping he’ll creep into Jaebum’s old room and lie on the bed. He’ll bury his face in the pillow, which still manages to smell like the person who left. Chansung’s scared that he’ll start to forget how this used to go, how this used to be so he’ll go through the drawers and find clothes that Jaebum left behind.
He’ll throw them on the bed with him and go back to lying down, hand curled around a t-shirt placed next to him. He’ll put his leg over a pant leg, curl his arms around an invisible body and just like that the pieces start to come together. Chansung doesn’t want to go forward yet, there’s still something - someone - left behind so how is he supposed to do it?
Chansung used to bite Jaebum, used to jump on top of him and demand a piggyback ride. He used to get excited when Jaebum fought back - answered to his demands of play with me, play with me I’m the magnae, play with me, don’t forget about me.
However, Chansung sheds his magnae image. Sheds it because he has to be strong this time, right? Sheds it because Jaebum’s not there to lean on anymore, right? Sheds it because as much as Taekyeon tries to fill up the empty space he can’t, right? Sheds it because there’s no other choice, right?
Wrong.
Maybe.
*
Junsu comes into the house thinking that he can get by on his voice. And as the years go on it becomes his crutch. When he needs help because he can’t stand anymore, he doesn’t lean against the wall for support, he relies on his voice to get by. He’ll hum a few lines of a song (can I love you in slow motion, take my time), he’ll live life just a little bit better, a little bit lighter and that’s just how the puzzle pieces fall together.
There’s just one thing Junsu doesn’t calculate into his formula of how to get by in the idol world. He forgets that there’s this shadow that looms over him, even if he doesn’t notice at first. Junsu starts to get insecure - he stares at his face in the mirror late at night for hours. His hand reaches up to touch his face. It starts at his forehead, moving downwards to his cheek and then it finally stops at his chin.
Junsu tilts his face to the side, stares at the weird angle his chin makes and cringes. In that moment he realises his face is even more awkward than he had thought. The bubble around him pops and he’s suddenly exposed. The layers upon layers of defence mechanisms he’s put up are being torn down and just like that, he’s vulnerable again.
He sits on his bed this time with a hand mirror clenched tightly between white knuckles. He smiles, and automatically closes his lips after seeing who smiles back at him. It’s not him.
There’s no prominent chin, there’s no gummy smile, there’s no - it’s a new face. It’s an upgrade, right?
No.
Junsu buries his face in his hands, tries to stop the sob escaping his mouth. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, his face isn’t supposed to look like this. All he wanted was to show how strong he is, how he can handle himself, how he doesn’t need anyone else other than his …
It hits him that when Jaebum comes back he won’t recognize Junsu. That’s all it takes for him to throw the mirror angrily at the wall, he doesn’t want to be different.
*
Nichkhun holds his emotions in, pulls them tight around his body and keeps them there. He pretends everything is okay, pretends that life didn’t pull a 180 on him, pretends that nothing is wrong.
Everything is wrong. He lies in bed at night with his cell phone clenched in his hand. He slides it open, closed, open, closed, open - he opens the phone book option, scrolls down until he reaches Jaebum’s number.
He’s about to press the call button but stops, hesitating. He then slides his cell phone closed, rolls over onto his side and scrunches his eyes shut. He mouths things as he tries to fall asleep, mouths words that string along into sentences because it’s the only way to keep himself sane.
Hi, his lips say but no sound comes out, how’s Seattle? How’s Jehan?
He clutches onto his cell phone tighter, shaking his head.
Hi, how are you doing? I saw that clip on youtube of you bboying… you look happy.
No, still wrong.
Hi. Are you stocking up on dried mangoes for when you come back? Chansung’s sort of running low and -
Still. Fucking. Wrong.
I miss you, when are you coming back? It’s not too soon is it because -
Fucking. Hell.
Hey, it’s 2PM in Seattle isn’t it?
It could work.
He still keeps this mask on, still keeps emotions hidden behind it because he’s unwilling to slip up. There will be a time to let it down, rip it off carelessly but that time isn’t now. He looks at the time on his cell phone.
1:59
Time’s still frozen.
*
Junho remembers a time where he was carefree, a time where he didn’t mind being known as Rain’s lookalike, a time where he switched interests because he was young. He remembers a time where he was unsure, unsteady, about to crack but he doesn’t.
Junho remembers a time where Jaebum helped build this wall for him. Jaebum gives him wet cement and bricks, tells him to build a wall with a door just for him. At first Junho had scoffed at the idea of building walls, what kind of moron would do that?
Turns out Junho is the kind of moron that would because he builds this wall around himself. He leaves a space in the middle, just about Jaebum’s height, and that’s it. So when Jaebum leaves, Junho panics. He panics because now who’s supposed to step through that space to hold his hand in the night when things get bad? The space is too small for Taekyeon and Chansung and Junho refuses their offer to break it down.
So Junho sits and waits, stands guard at the entrance of the Jaebum-sized space in his wall. He guards it because there is no other option. He will guard it until Jaebum comes back, since Jaebum is bound to come back, right? There’s no way he’d let Junho stand guard at this space forever, right?
No. He’ll come back.
He’ll come back.
*
Minjae thinks he’s failed him. He sends text messages to his best friend, telling him he’s a failure as a manager - he couldn’t save Jaebum. What’s the point of his job if he can’t do the one thing he was assigned?
He’s a failure as a manager.
The day he sends Jaebum away, back to Seattle, Minjae locks himself up in his room and the rest of the band doesn’t bug him. Minjae takes out his last bottle of soju from under the bed and drinks it straight. As he drinks he laughs, laughs because this is silly. This is ridiculous, look at what a kid has done to him.
This kid has confined him to his bedroom with a bottle of alcohol, laughing like a maniac because - oh wait, that’s right, he’s a failure. Well fuck. Fuck. So Minjae lets the tears out, lets the tears out because fuck it, ok? He was entrusted with the job of making sure that the members of 2PM were safe, to make sure that they didn’t step out of line, to make sure that even if they are idols who are supposed to keep an image they’re still supposed to live; and live happily at that.
And he did the complete opposite. Instead of comforting him, instead of telling him it’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll get through this together, he sent him away. He helped Jaebum pack his bags and he drove to the airport. He still has words lingering in his mouth that taste sour with the alcohol.
Desperately, Minjae wants to say hey kid, I’ve got you so don’t be scared, I’m your hyung, I’ll take care of you, I promise. There are things he should have done and wishes he had.
He’s a failure anyway, so what does it matter.
*
Now that the cold has settled in it doesn’t understand that its stay is only temporary. It tries to fight, tries to show the silly boys that they need it - but no, the cold doesn’t understand what they need at all.
The cold has served its purpose and now is the time for its departure. It stands at the door, uncurling itself from the home it created selfishly. It looks back one more time, pleading but the answer remains the same: no. Now is the time for the silly boys to heal, to make peace with the grief they think they’ve caused, to finally learn to be independent even if they think they already are.
The truth is they haven’t adjusted at all. There’s still a hole that will continue to exist, it’s still in the shape of Park Jaebum who is stubborn and refuses to leave. Or they could just be trying to keep him alive.
Trying to keep him alive? No, fighting is more like it - desperately fighting to keep him alive. This is why the clothes that Jaebum left behind still smell like him and not like Chansung who’s taken them to bed so many times. This is why Taekyeon is still trapped in the mirror. This is why Wooyoung’s play of Conversations with an Overbearing Father Post Leader Leaving for America keeps growing. This is why the crutch still exists, why Junsu keeps leaning on his voice for support. This is why the time on Nichkhun’s cell phone is still frozen at 1:59PM. This is why Junho is waiting for the space to be filled by Jaebum and not with wet cement and bricks. This is why Minjae still has the soju bottle tucked underneath his bed.
This is why we are the titans.
We are the titans because one day, the space in this apartment will be full again, full to the point where it gets hard to breathe and the boys are at each other’s throats. We are the titans because we believe that the hole named Park Jaebum will cease to exist and the real Park Jaebum will fit perfectly in its place. We are the titans because we fight; tooth and nail for Park Jaebum to still live between our divisions in this apartment.
We breathe life into the clothes left behind, we trap Taekyeon in the mirror, we freeze the time on Nichkhun’s cell phone, we push Junsu to lean on his crutch, we give Wooyoung the scripts, we keep Junho’s wall open, we make sure that the bottle of soju is full.
We are the titans.
*
cookies for everyone who can guess the pov this is being told in :)♥ vivarina don't get any since they already know.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: Gen
Word Count: 2, 819
Summary: There's something different about the house now that Jaebum is gone.
Notes: thank you to freefallskyline for being awesomesauce with her editing and hand holding skills, and to coincidal for helping me out and being a great creep :))))))))) iluboth ♥
we are the titans
It can go without being said that the house is different once a certain person leaves for America. There’s a different kind of cold that seeps into the floors, a different kind of cold that wants to penetrate through concrete and brick. It settles for the occupants of the apartment after finding it’s not welcomed.
Silly boys, they welcome the cold with open arms, let it create a home of its own in their bones, blood, skin. It’s the new chill that’s taken over them that turns them into different people, unrecognizable at first because they’ve built walls. They’ve been given bricks and wet cement, which they take eagerly because they’re hurt, upset - there’s a huge, gaping hole in their being.
They’re trying to fix it by building walls, surrounding their personal being by hard cement - unbreakable. They don’t want to get hurt again.
Silly boys, they don’t realise they can’t build a wall unless they were one from the beginning.
*
Taekyeon stays in the bathroom longer than necessary after he showers. He practices different faces in the mirror. He knots his eyebrows, clenches his teeth and narrows his eyes - he keeps this face for ten seconds before relaxing his facial muscles and doing it again.
“Ok, ok, let’s do this now.”
Taekyeon adjusts the towel around his waist and proceeds to bow. He stands up, back straight, legs parallel to his shoulders and he smiles. “Hi, my name is Taekyeon.” The smile drops just as quickly as he puts it on, he frowns at the mirror in frustration and tries it again.
“Be natural,” he mutters under his breath as he bows. He does it again - smile, smile, smile, bow, bow, bow, laughs, laughs, fake laughs.
He can’t win.
He puts on his glasses that he left at the sink. Staring at the mirror once more before he leaves, there’s a realization that it’s a different person looking right back at him. There’s no longer the nervous nerd from five years ago who injured his waist in order to debut; he’s gone and disappeared - forgotten. The one who stares back is different, changed … more confident. Confident? No, definitely not.
Tired and weary, his eyes drop to the floor as he puts his sweats and boxers on, he sighs because he’s lost. The road that he travelled joyously has been cut off, there’s a fork in it now and he’s unsure where to go. So he starts to walk back, walk back towards the mirror where he practises his manly image, his public image.
Taekyeon leaves the bathroom but he’s still there. He’s still trapped in the mirror.
*
The conversations are like scripts being handed to him - invisible scripts. It’s a conversation that’s been paused, rewound, played so many times it has its own cassette somewhere in the house.
“Appa,” Wooyoung says into his cell phone, his hand covering his eyes, listening to what his father has to say on the other side.
You’re still emotional.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”
Your smile is fake, anyone can tell you’re trying too hard.
“I’m sorry, I’ll fix it for next time.”
You have to be strong - why are you still so emotional?
“I’m sorry it’s just really hard for me right now and-”
No, you’re just making it hard on yourself. It doesn’t have to be that way if you just listen to me, Wooyoung.
“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll try harder next time.”
Good.
Wooyoung flips his cell phone closed and flops back onto his bed. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily, holding back the urge to cry.
There was a scene like this once. Act II, Scene V of Conversations with an Overbearing Father.
Wooyoung’s lying on his bed, hand clutching onto his cell phone like it’s a life line. He doesn’t notice when Jaebum walks in. He only notices when Jaebum sits next to him on the bed.
“It’ll be okay,” Jaebum whispers and grabs Wooyoung’s hand that’s holding the cell phone. He pries it open, takes out the device and throws it somewhere on the bed. He lies next to Wooyoung, hands crossed underneath his head.
“Do you remember our first debut stage?” Jaebum says, doesn’t wait for Wooyoung to respond - because he won’t - and continues yapping. “Remember how nervous we were?”
“Almost shit my pants,” Wooyoung mumbles, voice muffled with his face pressed to the pillow. “Would have too if I hadn’t been too nervous.”
Jaebum laughs, turning onto his side and pulls Wooyoung to face him. He smiles at the younger boy. “Think about how we felt afterwards, though. Do you remember it?”
“Felt … felt fucking amazing.”
“I know, so just think of that whenever he calls.” Jaebum’s smile softens. “It doesn’t always have to be those words, Wooyoung.”
“It’s always about-”
“Then think of my words,” Jaebum interrupts forcefully. “Think of my words.”
“What words?”
“What words?” Jaebum pretends to be offended and gets up to sit on the bed. He turns around to look at Wooyoung staring up at him in confusion. “What time is it now?”
Wooyoung rolls his eyes and turns his back on Jaebum.
Jaebum pinches exposed skin, once, twice - “Ow! 2PM! Ok?”
“That’s right.”
Except that’s not the scene anymore. It’s Act IV, Scene II of Conversations with an Overbearing Father post Leader Leaving for America.
It’s hell.
*
There’s a difference between looking old and being old. Chansung looks old but doesn’t feel it - he acts it. He wants to be tough, wants to be macho like Jaebum, wants to be on top of everything and everyone, doesn’t want to be left behind. When Jaebum leaves Chansung changes.
Chansung learns how to stand by himself and to not be dependent on anyone. Or so the story goes, anyway. Late at night when Chansung thinks Wooyoung’s sleeping he’ll creep into Jaebum’s old room and lie on the bed. He’ll bury his face in the pillow, which still manages to smell like the person who left. Chansung’s scared that he’ll start to forget how this used to go, how this used to be so he’ll go through the drawers and find clothes that Jaebum left behind.
He’ll throw them on the bed with him and go back to lying down, hand curled around a t-shirt placed next to him. He’ll put his leg over a pant leg, curl his arms around an invisible body and just like that the pieces start to come together. Chansung doesn’t want to go forward yet, there’s still something - someone - left behind so how is he supposed to do it?
Chansung used to bite Jaebum, used to jump on top of him and demand a piggyback ride. He used to get excited when Jaebum fought back - answered to his demands of play with me, play with me I’m the magnae, play with me, don’t forget about me.
However, Chansung sheds his magnae image. Sheds it because he has to be strong this time, right? Sheds it because Jaebum’s not there to lean on anymore, right? Sheds it because as much as Taekyeon tries to fill up the empty space he can’t, right? Sheds it because there’s no other choice, right?
Wrong.
Maybe.
*
Junsu comes into the house thinking that he can get by on his voice. And as the years go on it becomes his crutch. When he needs help because he can’t stand anymore, he doesn’t lean against the wall for support, he relies on his voice to get by. He’ll hum a few lines of a song (can I love you in slow motion, take my time), he’ll live life just a little bit better, a little bit lighter and that’s just how the puzzle pieces fall together.
There’s just one thing Junsu doesn’t calculate into his formula of how to get by in the idol world. He forgets that there’s this shadow that looms over him, even if he doesn’t notice at first. Junsu starts to get insecure - he stares at his face in the mirror late at night for hours. His hand reaches up to touch his face. It starts at his forehead, moving downwards to his cheek and then it finally stops at his chin.
Junsu tilts his face to the side, stares at the weird angle his chin makes and cringes. In that moment he realises his face is even more awkward than he had thought. The bubble around him pops and he’s suddenly exposed. The layers upon layers of defence mechanisms he’s put up are being torn down and just like that, he’s vulnerable again.
He sits on his bed this time with a hand mirror clenched tightly between white knuckles. He smiles, and automatically closes his lips after seeing who smiles back at him. It’s not him.
There’s no prominent chin, there’s no gummy smile, there’s no - it’s a new face. It’s an upgrade, right?
No.
Junsu buries his face in his hands, tries to stop the sob escaping his mouth. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, his face isn’t supposed to look like this. All he wanted was to show how strong he is, how he can handle himself, how he doesn’t need anyone else other than his …
It hits him that when Jaebum comes back he won’t recognize Junsu. That’s all it takes for him to throw the mirror angrily at the wall, he doesn’t want to be different.
*
Nichkhun holds his emotions in, pulls them tight around his body and keeps them there. He pretends everything is okay, pretends that life didn’t pull a 180 on him, pretends that nothing is wrong.
Everything is wrong. He lies in bed at night with his cell phone clenched in his hand. He slides it open, closed, open, closed, open - he opens the phone book option, scrolls down until he reaches Jaebum’s number.
He’s about to press the call button but stops, hesitating. He then slides his cell phone closed, rolls over onto his side and scrunches his eyes shut. He mouths things as he tries to fall asleep, mouths words that string along into sentences because it’s the only way to keep himself sane.
Hi, his lips say but no sound comes out, how’s Seattle? How’s Jehan?
He clutches onto his cell phone tighter, shaking his head.
Hi, how are you doing? I saw that clip on youtube of you bboying… you look happy.
No, still wrong.
Hi. Are you stocking up on dried mangoes for when you come back? Chansung’s sort of running low and -
Still. Fucking. Wrong.
I miss you, when are you coming back? It’s not too soon is it because -
Fucking. Hell.
Hey, it’s 2PM in Seattle isn’t it?
It could work.
He still keeps this mask on, still keeps emotions hidden behind it because he’s unwilling to slip up. There will be a time to let it down, rip it off carelessly but that time isn’t now. He looks at the time on his cell phone.
1:59
Time’s still frozen.
*
Junho remembers a time where he was carefree, a time where he didn’t mind being known as Rain’s lookalike, a time where he switched interests because he was young. He remembers a time where he was unsure, unsteady, about to crack but he doesn’t.
Junho remembers a time where Jaebum helped build this wall for him. Jaebum gives him wet cement and bricks, tells him to build a wall with a door just for him. At first Junho had scoffed at the idea of building walls, what kind of moron would do that?
Turns out Junho is the kind of moron that would because he builds this wall around himself. He leaves a space in the middle, just about Jaebum’s height, and that’s it. So when Jaebum leaves, Junho panics. He panics because now who’s supposed to step through that space to hold his hand in the night when things get bad? The space is too small for Taekyeon and Chansung and Junho refuses their offer to break it down.
So Junho sits and waits, stands guard at the entrance of the Jaebum-sized space in his wall. He guards it because there is no other option. He will guard it until Jaebum comes back, since Jaebum is bound to come back, right? There’s no way he’d let Junho stand guard at this space forever, right?
No. He’ll come back.
He’ll come back.
*
Minjae thinks he’s failed him. He sends text messages to his best friend, telling him he’s a failure as a manager - he couldn’t save Jaebum. What’s the point of his job if he can’t do the one thing he was assigned?
He’s a failure as a manager.
The day he sends Jaebum away, back to Seattle, Minjae locks himself up in his room and the rest of the band doesn’t bug him. Minjae takes out his last bottle of soju from under the bed and drinks it straight. As he drinks he laughs, laughs because this is silly. This is ridiculous, look at what a kid has done to him.
This kid has confined him to his bedroom with a bottle of alcohol, laughing like a maniac because - oh wait, that’s right, he’s a failure. Well fuck. Fuck. So Minjae lets the tears out, lets the tears out because fuck it, ok? He was entrusted with the job of making sure that the members of 2PM were safe, to make sure that they didn’t step out of line, to make sure that even if they are idols who are supposed to keep an image they’re still supposed to live; and live happily at that.
And he did the complete opposite. Instead of comforting him, instead of telling him it’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll get through this together, he sent him away. He helped Jaebum pack his bags and he drove to the airport. He still has words lingering in his mouth that taste sour with the alcohol.
Desperately, Minjae wants to say hey kid, I’ve got you so don’t be scared, I’m your hyung, I’ll take care of you, I promise. There are things he should have done and wishes he had.
He’s a failure anyway, so what does it matter.
*
Now that the cold has settled in it doesn’t understand that its stay is only temporary. It tries to fight, tries to show the silly boys that they need it - but no, the cold doesn’t understand what they need at all.
The cold has served its purpose and now is the time for its departure. It stands at the door, uncurling itself from the home it created selfishly. It looks back one more time, pleading but the answer remains the same: no. Now is the time for the silly boys to heal, to make peace with the grief they think they’ve caused, to finally learn to be independent even if they think they already are.
The truth is they haven’t adjusted at all. There’s still a hole that will continue to exist, it’s still in the shape of Park Jaebum who is stubborn and refuses to leave. Or they could just be trying to keep him alive.
Trying to keep him alive? No, fighting is more like it - desperately fighting to keep him alive. This is why the clothes that Jaebum left behind still smell like him and not like Chansung who’s taken them to bed so many times. This is why Taekyeon is still trapped in the mirror. This is why Wooyoung’s play of Conversations with an Overbearing Father Post Leader Leaving for America keeps growing. This is why the crutch still exists, why Junsu keeps leaning on his voice for support. This is why the time on Nichkhun’s cell phone is still frozen at 1:59PM. This is why Junho is waiting for the space to be filled by Jaebum and not with wet cement and bricks. This is why Minjae still has the soju bottle tucked underneath his bed.
This is why we are the titans.
We are the titans because one day, the space in this apartment will be full again, full to the point where it gets hard to breathe and the boys are at each other’s throats. We are the titans because we believe that the hole named Park Jaebum will cease to exist and the real Park Jaebum will fit perfectly in its place. We are the titans because we fight; tooth and nail for Park Jaebum to still live between our divisions in this apartment.
We breathe life into the clothes left behind, we trap Taekyeon in the mirror, we freeze the time on Nichkhun’s cell phone, we push Junsu to lean on his crutch, we give Wooyoung the scripts, we keep Junho’s wall open, we make sure that the bottle of soju is full.
We are the titans.
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cookies for everyone who can guess the pov this is being told in :)♥ vivarina don't get any since they already know.