yunho/boa | calm and reasonable | one-shot | romance

It was back in 2009 when the incident happened, and they were both so lost, so vulnerable, so confused. They were supposed to be the strong towers that everyone could depend on, but in reality, they were oh-so-broken. BoA would cry herself to sleep each night, thinking, why? I get it, but why? and sometimes the two would find themselves in a dimly lit hallway with no windows, just suffocating. I don't think I was good enough, Yunho had said. Am I ever good enough? And she would silently pat him on the back. "You're fine," she had assured him; her words choked on her tears.

"You miss him," he had said one day, his face solemn.

"I do." He had my heart in his hand and he trampled all over it.

"Me too." He sat down next to her, close enough that she could smell his signature scent - fresh linen and apple - and she squeezed her eyes shut, memories of the other three obstructing her mind. She remembered their dorm, how Yunho would open the door whenever she came, how the other boys would play around in the living room, how a certain boy always melted his icy facade at the sight of her, how there was always a sense of joy, true joy, between all of them. She didn't see it coming. She didn't allow herself to go to their dorm anymore; two is company, sure, and with her, three could be a party, but it's not enough.

Come to think of it, nothing is ever enough. But for a while, back then when it was the perfect five with her as their girl, she had thought that everything was perfect.

"It's hard," she said.

"I know."


x


America made her even more lonely. She would look out her big window, the city-scape full of bustling people and cars, the sights and sounds overwhelming to the senses. She didn't belong here.

Scrolling through the contacts on her phone, she had to hold in her tears as she passed by their names; she still had their numbers - their old numbers, that is. She found his name, and pressed 'call.'

"Hello?" came the voice on the other side.

"Yunho."

"BoA, what's wrong?"

"Everything. I need to get out of here," her jaws were clenched.

"I...you know I can't do much about that. But -"

"I know," she cut him off. "I just..."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for not leaving me."

"You know they didn't want to ditch you, that's not the reason -"

She hung up. Screw Yunho for being so calm and reasonable and right all the time.

"Damn it."

She normally never swore, but she did.


x



Maybe she needed someone calm and reasonable to balance out her mood swings and plain stupidity. 

One day, after she returned from the U.S., he gave her a giant bear hug and held her hand.

She begged him to never let go.



x



They had a spark. It was a muted spark maybe, but it was still something. Something is always better than nothing. He kept her on her feet, he motivated her, and he always knew the right things to say. 

She was selfish, she knew. She was taking more than she could possibly give back. She tried though; she really did. Maybe she just didn't try hard enough.

And he noticed this. He was smart and reasonable, after all. She pleaded with him to never let her go, and he held on as long as he could.

"I'm sorry," he had said. His grip was slipping; he couldn't do it anymore.

"It's okay." No, it's not freakin' okay.

With no one to hold her, she was falling. It felt like deja-vu, except this time, no one would help her back up.


x


He came back though, but maybe not in the way she had hoped. "Can we please still be best friends?" He cracked a smile.

She grinned back, but she hoped that he didn't notice that her smile didn't reach all the way to her eyes.

He did, but he didn't say anything.

"Best friends it is, then," she nodded.

And things were absolutely fine. 


x


She wrote her song with him in mind. But she didn't plan on SM pairing her up with him for the couple dance.

"So," he came into the room, his training outfit clean and tidy.

"Thanks for coming, I guess," she said. "Did you learn the dance steps?"

"Of course," he beamed.

She tried stalling. Oh dear, I don't want to - no, please no...

"Let's get started, shall we?" his voice was cheerful.

She almost winced. He always gave more than he took, and it was getting on her nerves.

The first couple steps were awkward, with them stepping on each other's feet and their uncomfortable mingling of breath. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear the music pulsing through the speakers; she tried to get her act together and focus on the beat. 5, 6, 7, 8...and step, step, turn, kick... 

She attempted to ignore the burning sensation of his fingers lightly caressing her arms, or how close his face got to hers. Not daring to look at him in the eye, she merely went through each step, wishing for the end.

"Come on, BoA, chemistry, passion, come on girl," he whispered into her ear. His breath tickled because he was just so close, causing an inadvertent blush  to appear on her features. She tentatively allowed herself to unravel, to let loose. It's okay to let your guard down, she told herself. Just this once.

Their movements were now more fluid, more in sync. The turbulence of emotions inside of her was giving her a headache, but she pressed on forward like she was yearning for something - something intangible, remnants of what they once had.

"Good," he whispers again, sweat dripping down his temples. "We had something, remember? Bring it back, even if it's just for a couple performances," he continued coaching her.

She could never wrap her mind around just how good he was, just how pure, how well-meaning, how lovely he was. She wanted to ask him whether he really wanted that spark back, whether he wanted her back. She wanted him to say yes, I really do,  but she was too scared. She simply followed his lead, closing her eyes to revel in the moment. 1, 2, 3...turn, push, step...They practiced their routine over and over again, the tension between them palpable and sticky. 

The music was turned off. She blinked, opening her eyes to see him wiping his forehead with a towel. The look on his face was one of content, with a trace of a devious smirk. "I have to go now," he said apologetically. He stepped right up next to her, his taller figure towering over her being. His palm momentarily cupped her chin to make her look up at him. "I heard Taemin and Eunhyuk will also be your dance partners. I'll be watching."

And with that, he walked out, leaving her in a pool of goo and a sweaty mess of twisted feelings. She looked in the practice room mirror and saw that there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

Man, he really did know what exactly to say to keep her on edge.


x


"On live in three, two, one..." the PD shouted.

BoA put herself into performance mode, her mind on full focus and her moves more spirited and sharp than usual. She gracefully executed the choreography, pairing it with her powerful vocals. Performing, to her, was about expressing herself while at the same time trying to forget everything she was going through - which was quite an impossible feat, really. But with the limelight on her and the cameras pointed in her direction and her beloved fans cheering her on, she felt like she was invincible.

That is, until the second verse, and Yunho walked lithely onto the stage, his hair almost covering his eyes. He leaned into her, closer than during practice, his breath hanging in the air before her. Each touch was like a shock of electricity, and she was fighting, struggling to keep her cool. She couldn't make eye contact with him, but the sheer amount of confidence he exuded showed that he was in his zone. Yunho was a performer, just like her. But unlike her, he was strong, he was level-minded, and he was in a whole different league.

She shivered at this realization, but his grip on her arm steadied her. She kept singing, pouring her heart out in every word, every sound. He danced around her, as if serenading her with his actions. There was something, she concluded, it was still there. It was kind of a guilty pleasure; she dared herself to submerse herself in an alternate reality on stage, where perhaps all the intimacy and passion was truly genuine instead of just an act. It was strangely exhilarating.

But when he exited the stage after his cameo, she felt the emptiness on stage, a part of her heart broken off. She chastised herself for losing her focus, and she threw herself into the performance again, sure that a certain someone's eyes were tracing her every move.

The song ended, and BoA left the stage, waving to her fans. He was waiting in a side room, a smile evident on his face.

"Good job," he congratulated.

"No, good job to you." And she truly meant it.

The heat of fresh performance was still coursing through her veins, her mind still an incoherent buzz. She wanted to ask him so many questions: she wanted to know what he really thought of her, and if all hope was really lost. Was all of that just a performance? Where is the line between reality and show biz?

"You have other performances soon," he said. "Rest up, girl," he patted her shoulder.

She smiled in return.


x


The next time she saw him, she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I felt it," she stated.

His eyes connected with hers. "Me too."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He was always so good-natured.

"You need to stop being so selfless," her tone was almost bitter.

"It doesn't bother me."

"We tried before...I don't want to burden you again," her voice became small.

"We'll just wait for a little while longer," was his matter-of-fact answer.

And so she trusted him, because he was always so reasonable.