AN: Hi. This is a little angsty, although it does end on a light note (not necessarily happy but you'll get the point soon). I just wanted to explore the dynamics of not only the group, but on how the music industry (not just Kpop, but as a global whole) treats its musicians and artists.

Title taken from Evanescence's Everybody's Fool.

Sunggyu smiles, and it’s picture-perfect, like everything he was taught to do. The host thanks them and everyone else smiles back and Sunggyu watches as Myungsoo (L, Sunggyu, L) gives them a dimpled grin, watches as Howon (it’s Hoya, Sunggyu. There’s no Howon) moves about. He watches Woohyun as he plays the staff well, watches him gift a flirty grin at the host and the host laughs and compliments Woohyun and he watches Sungyeol and Sungjong stand at the back, quiet, well-practiced expressions of amusement on their faces.

He watches all of them — INFINITE — as they charm their way into the host’s good graces, watches one of their managers converse quietly with the program directors behind the many cameras flashing at them. Sunggyu catches Hyoan’s eye and the manager glares at him and Sunggyu understands.

He looks away and turns to the many cameras and he smiles, making sure he smiles enough that he looks ridiculous but he tells himself not to mind, not to care.

They’re all just manufactured dolls and they’ve got everybody fooled.

∞

It’s in the beginning of September, when the leaves are just starting to wilt, when the wind’s just starting to get a little colder, when Sunggyu knows that he isn’t the only one who’s thought about how perfectly ing fake they are.

He realizes this when Hyoan calls him for a meeting and he’s there, and Hyoan’s there and there are program directors there and he’s frowning because although he has no idea what is going on, he’s been in this situation too many times to be naïve.

Hyoan tells him that their latest segment wasn’t up to par. One of the program directors tell Hyoan to “stop babying the out of them and tell him to get their heads straight in line” and Sunggyu is quiet.

He’s quiet and his head is bowed and he nods and says “Yes, Hyoan-ssi. I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

He’s quiet because it’s not surprising, it’s not shocking and, most of all, he’s used to it.

He’s used to being reduced to a pitiful failure.

He’s used to being condescended at by his seniors.

He’s used to having s — his brothers — treated like objects instead of human beings.

What can he do? They’re just all manufactured dolls waiting to be cast aside.

∞

It’s Woohyun that finds him first.

The younger man’s steps are heavy as his shoes make contact with the steel stairway. Sunggyu doesn’t look up from his legs, eyes on the ground as he takes a drag from the lit cigarette in between his fingers.

Woohyun doesn’t say anything at first. He simply sits down and takes the cigarette from him.

Sunggyu turns, too weary to get angry, and merely watches Woohyun, watches the thin line of bright orange glow red as the younger one pulls a long drag — watches the flame hit the filter and Woohyun coughs a little before he exhales the smoke.

Sunggyu knows he’ll sound like a hypocrite, knows that intimately himself, but he says it anyway.

“You’re gonna ruin your voice.”

Woohyun turns to him, and Sunggyu watches the dim light hit the purple tint of his hair. His co-vocalist’s face is exhausted, the dark circles more pronounced in the grey monochrome of the stairwell, the paleness of his skin obvious now that mounds and mounds of make-up and pretense are gone. Sunggyu knows he looks no different.

They all don’t.

Woohyun gives him a lopsided smile, one end tipping past the other and there’s no humor in his smile. “I know, that’s why I took it from you.”

Sunggyu laughs, and it’s cruel, mocking and angry. “Have you actually read what people say about my voice? They think it’s beautiful because it sounds like a mess. Who knows what they’ll write if I start sounding like Hyorin?”

Woohyun doesn’t respond. Sunggyu looks away and the burn of the nicotine on his throat and the misery pooling in his chest keeps him tight, keeps him steady.

He feels pressure on his shoulder and knows that it’s Woohyun and Sunggyu doesn’t move.

There was a time — long ago, too long ago that Sunggyu doesn’t even remember it quite clearly anymore — when he never liked having people touch him. His mother would complain when he squirms his way out of her hugs and his father would just laugh at them, tell his mother that Sunggyu’s a big boy and he can handle himself.

Sunggyu wishes his father’s words were true.

He remembers a time when he had a home, had arms to come home to, had a family to push him forward.

Woohyun keeps silent, head still against Sunggyu’s shoulder. He knows that they can’t stay here forever — can’t stay in this window of silence and numbness, in that space between going back to who they were (impossible) and going to what they will always be (dolls) — they can’t stay here forever, and even though he’s INFINITE, that they’re INFINITE, there’s no such thing as forever.

Sunggyu closes his eyes and rests his head against the top of Woohyun’s. He doesn’t say anything. He can’t. It’s the only way he can hold himself, hold them, together.

His father was wrong.

The cigarette lies forgotten in the space between their shoes.

∞

The drive towards SBS is uneventful. Regardless of the fans pressing their faces against the tinted windows, regardless of the screaming and the chanting, regardless of the exhaustion painting the faces of the members, regardless of all that — it’s uneventful. Sunggyu’s used to it.

“Oppa! I love you! Post more photos!”

He’s used to it.

“Why don’t you get our gifts, oppa?! Oppa I love you!”

Why should he? Was their love conditioned on such trivial things?

“Oppa! Oppa! Hey, listen to us! Do you want us to hate you?!”

Not as much as he hates himself.

“I don’t like that hair color, oppa! It looks stupid!”

He really is.

∞

“Hoya was out of line. Tell him to shut up next time. We don’t need his sassy remarks.”

“Yes, hyung.”

But wasn’t that what made Howon himself? Wasn’t his being sarcastic the reason a lot of fans love him?

“Dongwoo needs to be a serious from time to time. He was annoying the host with his laughter.”

“Yes, hyung.”

Why? His laughter is beautiful. It’s sometimes the only thing that keeps Sunggyu together.

“And tell L that he’s not supposed to smile that big. ing kid doesn’t even know to be quiet.”

“Yes, hyung.”

And hurt the kid? Tell that to his face and see Myungsoo bow his head, hold back tears and apologize for hurting the group? Tell him to stop being himself, to turn into someone like Sunggyu and become a puppet?

“Woohyun did good, but you didn’t. Just because the show is stupid doesn’t mean you don’t have to participate. We’re all working here, act your age, Sunggyu.”

 “Yes, hyung.”

Sunggyu doesn’t even know he is anymore.

“Sungyeol was quiet and kept to himself. Good. Make Sungjong wear lots of yellow next time, and make sure he at least knows the dance to Something, even if it’s just the chorus.”

“Yes, hyung.”

Doesn’t it even bother them that Sungyeol’s quiet because he doesn’t even know what his purpose in the group is, doesn’t even get to be reassured that INFINITE needs him? Doesn’t it bother them that Sungjong feels humiliated every time he has to learn the dance to some stupid girl group’s song, that he feels ridiculous everytime he has to dress up like a girl?

The manager leaves and Sunggyu remains standing, the faces of s flashing past his thoughts.

They’re all just manufactured dolls, and he once thought that they’ve got everybody fooled.

Sunggyu realizes that he’s been everybody’s fool all along.

∞

“What happened, hyung? What did Hyoan-ssi say?” It’s Howon (he doesn’t even bother to tell himself that it’s Hoya, not Howon) who first asks.

Myungsoo (if Sunggyu doesn’t even try to remember who they were before they became idols, he’s afraid that’s all they’ll ever be) sits on the couch, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. Dongwoo and Sungyeol are on the floor, in front of the TV and Sungjong is at the doorway of his room.

It’s Woohyun who breaks him.

It’s Woohyun, who Sunggyu notices is standing by the main door. It’s Woohyun who looks at him with eyes that are hard, cold and Sunggyu knows that Woohyun knows.

He wants to laugh at the ice in Woohyun’s gaze.

“Hyung just said  that we did a good job,” and Howon frowns, and Myungsoo frowns too.

Woohyun turns and leaves for the bedroom — the one they share — and Sunggyu watches his retreating back before the door is slammed shut.

“Hyung?” it’s Sungyeol and there’s a curious pressing in his voice that pushes Sunggyu to continue, and he flashes a smile at them and he’s afraid it seems a little bit forced but he doesn’t mind, not when he has to lie to them.

To his brothers.

“You should talk more, next time. Don’t be afraid to laugh, alright? Make fun of Myungsoo, that’ll get the directors cackling,” he says to Sungyeol, who turns to Myungsoo and Sunggyu watches Myungsoo smile shyly at Sungyeol.

“Dongwoo, keep doing what you’re doing, I’m proud of you.” At this, Dongwoo grins — and it’s bright and carefree like Dongwoo — and Sunggyu doesn’t even have to try before he’s smiling back, a genuine one this time.

He looks past the room and watches Sungjong and he bites his lips before he continues. “Hyung wants you to wear yellow next time.”

Sungjong nods, eyes on the floor. “What dance do I have to learn, hyung?”

Sunggyu gazes at the maknae’s bowed head. He makes his choice.

“Nothing. I’ll be the one dancing.”

Sungjong’s head snaps to him, and his eyes are unbelieving and Sunggyu nods and he watches Sungjong smile before he walks forward and sits next to Dongwoo. He doesn’t say anything but Sunggyu sees the gratitude in his eyes.

Sees it in all their eyes.

Sunggyu doesn’t know how to feel, doesn’t know how to react when something as simple as this makes all of them happy.

He hears Howon on the phone, ordering take-away and Myungsoo calls for his favorite to be ordered and Sunggyu smiles to himself for a moment.

He excuses himself and heads straight for his room.

∞

“Thank you,” is what Woohyun says.

He’s lying in bed and Woohyun is next to him, pressed against his side and the younger one’s head is on his chest and Sunggyu has his arms around him. Outside the thin walls, he could hear Sungyeol and Sungjong argue as the tell-tale sound of the Playstation is . Myungsoo says something and Dongwoo laughs and it’s strange, it’s weird but it reminds Sunggyu of home.

Woohyun’s breaths tickle the skin under his thin shirt, his fingers fiddling with the hem and Sunggyu is content to lie there, eyes on the painted ceiling as the afternoon sun dim from bright to a warm orange.

“They’re all I have left.” He simply says, and it’s the truth.

It’s the truth.

They’re all just manufactured dolls waiting to be cast aside, waiting for time and purpose to catch up to them before being disposed of, waiting for their fans’ love turn to dislike to hate to apathy, waiting for the day when the entirety of their identities is forgotten. They’re just idols, just assets, just tools to be traded around and around. Doesn’t matter that they have feelings, it doesn’t matter that they sometimes crack under the pressure, doesn’t matter that Howon misses home too much, that Dongwoo cries to sleep at night, that Myungsoo pretends to ignore the backlash and hate, that Sungyeol and Sungjong keep quiet at the apathy thrown at them.

It doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day, they’re all just manufactured dolls waiting to be cast aside — like every other idol in the entirety of the industry.

But for now, for this moment, Sunggyu has this. Sunggyu has this small family of seven boys, who are a little too different, a little too young and a little too innocent for a world unwilling to be kind to them. Sunggyu has this family to protect, to raise and to hold close, and it’s enough for him.

He may be a fool; he may be everybody’s fool but not them, not the six others. Not Woohyun in his arms, not Howon and his cheeky smile, not Myungsoo and his unconditional kindness, not Dongwoo and his laughter, not Sungyeol and his ability to make people feel appreciated and not Sungjong whose surprising maturity is what grounds them all together.

Woohyun murmurs his assent, and he nuzzles his head closer to Sunggyu’s chest and he feels warm, warm like the sun on a wintry day and he feels his eyes droop, feels himself float on the ebb and flow of sleep. Sungyeol’s shout of joy fades into a buzz as Sunggyu holds Woohyun closer. Tighter.

For this moment, for this infinity that will inevitably come to an end, Sunggyu is home.

∞

Howon bows to the man and closes the door behind him, two large bags of food in one hand. Dongwoo takes it from him before setting it on the table, and even Sungyeol and Sungjong pause their game as they settle around the table.

Myungsoo returns from the bathroom and he turns to Howon, asking. “Should we wake them up?”

Howon knows who he means and he makes his way to the door, the smell of chicken and meat wafting through the air. His stomach awakens at the smell.

He opens the door, as quietly as he can, and peeks in.

Howon stares at the way Sunggyu and Woohyun are wrapped in each other’s arms in sleep, and he knows from the way Woohyun is lying down that Sunggyu will have cramps later when he wakes.

He shuts the door, just as silent as he opened it.

“They’re still asleep. I don’t want to take them.” He says, and he watches the rest look at each other.

It’s Sungjong who smiles and breaks the silence. “We’ll wait, then. We can always reheat the food.”

Howon smiles back.