by zapdragon555 » 01/27/2018 12:03 AM
After that day, Young-soo began to think that perhaps things would be alright. It was slow work, but the inkling of the thought was there, and it was taking root like a delicate moss over his aching heart. Maybe he could forget about everything and just go back to being Chan-ho's friend, like before. Or, hey, maybe he could even just have that fond memory, laugh about it, and continue on as normal. Young-soo had never been friends with an ex before, but he'd never really been friends with someone before they became an ex, either. That, and... he and Chan-ho never actually 'dated.' One date did not a relationship make. Maybe Chan-ho really did value what happened between them more than he let on.
That's what he kept telling himself, at least. If there's one thing he was good at, it was being unaware of the things he refused to look for. So when Chan-ho reappeared in their waiting room, his clothes and hair visibly rumpled and his answer to their angry manager's question burning the tips of Young-soo's ears, Young-soo forced down the bile in his throat and turned back to his instagram feed on his phone.
Ji-sung was chattering with Jae (or at Jae might have been a better word for it); Min-hyuk was lost in a world of pre-show jitters that he seemed to be handling on his own; Nathan was approaching Chan-ho with a suck-up smile that seemed to say he totally (probably didn't) knew what Chan-ho was hiding, and approved of it; so naturally, Young-soo should be at ease and rip-raring-ready to go put on a smile and sing.
Fucking as if.
They were ushered to the stage, but Young-soo's mind stayed behind. Not in the dressing room--it stayed further behind, in that love hotel, pacing the floor of the memory, recalling phantom smells and feelings as he hid behind his smile and burned-into-his-mind practiced-to-hell song. His performance was, for the large part, flawless. Unlike a certain fucking someone, he was typically on time for practice, and didn't look like a half-ravaged slut.
He felt something twist in his gut painfully, about halfway through the thing, when the word rose up in his mind. God. What was he thinking? Why did he care? He knew it was normal, in the industry. At least... he'd read about it, somewhere. And he shouldn't even assume that's what was going on... no, of course he should assume that. To assume anything else would be naive, and despite what Chan-ho must have thought that night in the hotel, Young-soo was not naive. Was he...? Was that the problem? Was it him, or was it Chan-ho? Without an answer to that question, Young-soo was left pacing in circles in his mind, wearing the memory of the love hotel thin with every recollection.
Somehow he kept up the smile, probably looking rather like a grimace now, until they exited the stage and were greeted with bottled water and towels. Pent up behind so much smiling, Young-soo's expression spelled murder by the time he was off camera, toweling off his sweaty hair and the back of his neck. Somehow it only worsened the heat under his skin, and with an audible, frustrated snarl, he slung the towel to the floor and stalked off towards where the vans were parked.
By the time he'd gotten the newest wave of tears out (he'd been doing that a lot lately, more than he had in his life, and he fucking hated it), the others would probably join him. On the ride back, he listened to music on his headphones in silence.
Hey hyung. This is probably super out of the blue, but I need to talk to you. Or someone. Preferably you. Meet me somewhere? That one cafe with the ugly-ass upholstered booths down the street? I'll be there around three, if you wanna show.
Young-soo read over that text exactly once before sending it, and around twenty times after. Even after Hyun-jin had responded that he'd be around soon, Young-soo was already beginning to doubt his location, and what he was going to say, and whether it was even worth it to talk about this. His tongue felt like swollen lead in his mouth, heavy and too big, his throat gone dry long ago despite the latte he was nursing.
It had been a few days since the concert, and little by little, he was finding it harder to put his thoughts away. In all honesty, he hadn't had a decent meal in those days, and off and on for as long as he'd been ruminating on his life choices. Which only really started since that night. He missed being empty-headed. It was simpler.
But there will come a time
You'll see, with no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see
What you find there
With grace in your heart
And flowers in your hair
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