Shim Changmin runs.

He likes running. He’s not sure why he likes it, but he does. It’s simple. Rhythmic. Stride-stride-stride-stride. Swinging arms and beating heart and pounding feet. There’s a freedom there, in the movement, in the repetition, that he can never find anywhere else. Not in the music, not in weight lifting, not in sports. Only running.

So when things get to be too much, when this life that chose him closes in or when his thoughts spin wildly out of control and he needs to reign them in, or even just when he needs a moment of quiet, a moment of clarity, Changmin runs.

But it hasn’t been helping as much lately.

—

 “Hyung? Hyung, I don’t think I’m doing this right. Hyung, help.”

“No,” says Yoochun flatly. “You didn’t even come to see me when I was sick, I’m not helping you with math.” He pokes Changmin with a toe. “More,” he says.

Changmin looks back down at the text book in his lap. Technically all five of them are still in school, but Yunho and Jaejoong are almost finished — only have a few classes left to complete before they can officially graduate — so these homework sessions mostly just consist of him, Yoochun, and Junsu.

“When—” Changmin starts, quizzing Yoochun out of the text.

“Hyung!”

Changmin stops and closes his eyes.

“I had to go to school, hyung. School is important. And I picked up all your assignments.”

“Oh yeah, the way to forgiveness is definitely to remind me that you are the one who brought me all this extra work.”

Yoochun is sarcastic. Changmin thinks most of their fans would be surprised to know that because whenever they’re in public or in front of cameras or on stage, he’s happy, or playful, or a goof. The sarcasm is something he doesn’t show them. Idols shouldn’t be cynical. But sometimes, when Changmin slips and lets his more twisted sense of humor out, Yoochun is the first or even the only one who gets it.

“Hyung!”

“Shut up,” Changmin growls. “Work on something else for now, okay? And I’ll help you with math later.”

Junsu is so whiny sometimes.

“You will? Ah, thank you. You’re the best.”

Changmin nods and doesn’t look at him and keeps quizzing Yoochun.

—

 Changmin is thirteen when he first pours through a book specifically to find the pictures of women. His parents explained to him about when he was eleven, but thirteen is when it becomes relevant because thirteen is when he has to take a ed class in school and thirteen is how old he is the first time he ever wakes up hard. And he feels all kinds of uncomfortable, using a school text book this way, but he needs to know. Because all his of friends are starting to look, to be interested. Some have been for a while. And Changmin just…isn’t.

He tries a few times to explain to his father. To put into words the way he feels, because he’s pretty sure that it’s different and he wants to know how it’s different. And more importantly why. His father just laughs quietly, tells him he’s still young. That he’ll understand when he’s older, when he meets the right person. Somehow, Changmin doesn’t think that’s going to happen. So when, in his first year of high school, he’s still the only who’s not really interested, the only one who just doesn’t seem to get it, and he’s given an entire text book on and reproduction, he decides to figure it out for himself.

The pictures do nothing for him. women, men, it doesn’t matter. It’s informative. It’s interesting, in an academic, existential sort of way. But he doesn’t feel any of the things he thinks he’s supposed to feel. Which is weird, because he’s pretty sure there’s nothing wrong with his body. He’s done some experimenting and everything seems to function just fine. It’s just not really a function he’s very invested in.

There’s absolutely nothing in the text that even comes close to sounding like what he feels.

But maybe his father is right. Maybe he’s just too young. Maybe in a year or two, he’ll meet someone and something will click. Maybe.

—

“Did you actually finish your work, or did you just give up and go to sleep on the floor?”

Yoochun, stretched out on the floor while Changmin tries to explain math to Junsu, groans dramatically.

“I did it,” he says. “Now go away and let me sleep. I’m recovering, you know.”

“That was last week,” Jaejoong says mercilessly, bending at the waist and poking Yoochun in the face. “Did you do all of it? You were sick for too long. You have a lot to catch up on.”

Yoochun crosses him arms and glowers up at the older boy. “Yes, mother, I did all of it. Maknae even quizzed me.”

Jaejoong’s eyes flick to Changmin, who nods quickly. Jaejoong is…an unknown quantity. Honestly, he scares Changmin a little. Not because Changmin thinks he’s dangerous, exactly, but because he’s so unpredictable. Changmin never knows if he’s going to collapse into laughter or explode in fury or just lapse into silence the way he does sometimes, watching what happens with no expression or response. Like he’s just waiting to see what the outcome will be.

It doesn’t seem to bother any of the others, or if does they never say so — thought that might be because he’s Yunho’s best friend and Changmin has seen the way Yunho looks when the managers sometimes make disparaging remarks about Jaejoong where he can hear them. If somebody looked at Changmin like that, he’d never say anything ever again either.

“Good,” Jaejoong says, standing back up and looking over at Changmin and Junsu. “And you two? Still working?”

“Trigonometry is hard, hyung,” Junsu says plaintively.

“Then why did you take it?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he says, “I’m making ramyun so keep out of the kitchen. Do you guys want some? I think there’s enough.”

Changmin doesn’t understand why Jaejoong cooks so much. It’s not that he cares about a guy cooking — that part is great. When he first learned that Jaejoong could cook he was thrilled. For one thing it meant they wouldn’t all just be eating take out, and he thought maybe he use the food as a way to understand the other boy better for another. But instead Jaejoong just makes really spicy things at completely random intervals and bellows at anyone who uses the stove other than himself. Yunho says it’s just Jaejoong’s way of trying to take care of them all, but Changmin’s not sure caring for people should involve so much yelling and getting hit with spoons.

Junsu reaches out and grabs Jaejoong’s pant-leg, looking up at him with huge, hopeful eyes. “Can you make it not so spicy?”

“No.” Jaejoong reaches down and shoves at Junsu’s head, pushing him sideways into Changmin, who jumps and then freezes. “Spicier is better. Besides, I don’t have to cook for you. You should be grateful just to be fed.”

“Hyung!” Junsu says again, hands still outstretched like some kind of plea. “I am grateful. I’m very, very grateful. You make better-tasting things than any of us can. But it’s all so spicy and then I can’t feel my tongue.”

Jaejoong stares at him for a moment, then rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “But finish your work or I’ll put hot peppers in your bowl.”

Junsu’s face lights up and he claps his hands. “Okay, hyung! I’ll work hard.”

Changmin takes a deep breath. Junsu is such a child sometimes.

“Pay attention,” he says.

—

Changmin’s first and only girlfriend ever is a girl in his science class in freshman year. She works at the bench next to his and she’s not the prettiest girl in class but Changmin likes how she handles herself, like she knows what she’s doing. Like she’s not afraid to try or be wrong. The first day they’re actually allowed to do any experiments with the chemicals provided she accidentally mixes the wrong things and causes a small but noisy explosion. Every other girl in the class screams. So do a few of the boys. But Sooyeon just laughs and laughs. And Changmin likes that. So he asks her out.

He learns that he likes her. She’s clever and unafraid to tell him what she thinks. She argues with him, strenuously, and about everything. But it’s more like a debate than an fight, and she’s good at it. Changmin likes that. He likes spending time with her and talking with her and it’s interesting to learn about a girl’s point of view on things. It’s especially interesting because sometimes he finds it’s actually not all that different from his own.

But he doesn’t really feel like they’re dating. They don’t cuddle. They don’t hold hands. He tries, once, to put an arm around her, but it feels a little weird and after a moment she finds a reason to move away. Sooyeon doesn’t want to be taken care of. She never lets him pay on the few occasions they go out to eat, she never asks for help with her school work, though she will let him swap her for proofreading, and though she likes it when he gets her little things like couples are supposed to, she never asks for anything.

After a few months they stop dating, though they stay friends, and Changmin thinks it’s better that way.

His father tells him that it’s okay, he’s still young, he’ll find the right person eventually. But Changmin’s still pretty sure that it’s not Sooyeon or anyone else that’s the problem. He’s just not interested in people like that. But he thinks that’s okay. Everyone has at least one strange thing about them, after all, so maybe this is just his.

—

“Pay attention! I’ve explained this three times already.”

“But it’s boring! Can’t we take a break? The ramyun must be almost ready, we can eat and then you can help me later, can’t you?”

“I’m helping you now. You were so happy earlier when I said I’d help. What happened to all that enthusiasm?

“I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“It wouldn’t if you would pay attention.”

Junsu is such a terrible student.

—

Changmin gets scouted in gym class. Playing badminton, of all things. How that works, he’ll never understand, but it happens. He doesn’t want to go to the auditions. Has exactly zero interest in being a singer or an entertainer or a celebrity of any kind. Wants to be a teacher, like his father. Or maybe a photographer. He’s always liked photography. Has always found it so fascinating the way a little light can change an entire scene or the way a picture can tell a thousand stories even with no words. The way no one ever sees quite the same story.

But his mother says to go. What can it hurt? Even if he does well, he doesn’t have to sign with the company and they might seem some famous people at the auditions. So they go.

He does well. He can see it in the judges eyes after he does what they want. And though he still doesn’t want to join their company, it’s nice to know he was good. To feel like he impressed them. But it’s also a little weird, because he used to being impressive because he worked hard a thing, like his school work. He’s smart, but he still has to put the effort in and he’s absolutely won the right to be in as many advanced classes as he is. But this? Singing isn’t something he’s ever worked on. It’s just something he does sometimes. Something he’s just good at, though he has absolutely no training.

So when they call him back for a second audition, he’s not sure. It feels a little like cheating. Like he shouldn’t go because he doesn’t care and there are plenty of people who do, who he’s sure have worked really hard to make it to the auditions. People who would die for a change to sing and perform on stage and it just feels unfair for someone like Changmin, who happened to have a powerful voice, to even bother. To take that from them.

His father encourages him to go, if he wants. Says it’s the chance of a lifetime, and no matter what happens, he’ll come away having learned something.

When he passes the second audition and SM offers him a slot as one of their trainees, he decides to try it. To take it. If it doesn’t work out, he can always do something else. And he likes to work hard, and he has this talent anyway so maybe he can put it to some good use, and he knows that people in the music industry don’t really get any time to have a personal life, but that’s okay. That suits Changmin just fine. The idol groups he’s seen have all seemed pretty close and maybe that’s what he needs: closeness. Without any of the extra stuff.

So he packs his things and he goes.

—

“I’m going to the gym in a little while,” Changmin says as they all sit around the livingroom table eating ramyun. It’s not as good as his mother’s cooking, but it’s still pretty good. Definitely better than take out.

“You spend a lot of time at the gym these days,” Junsu says, frowning just a little. “Ah, should we be worried? Are you trying to be able to beat all of us so the hyungs stop teasing you?”

“You mean should you be worried, right?” says Yoochun, grinning.

“Yeah,” Jaejoong agrees, reaching over and shoving at Junsu’s head again. “After all, if Changmin gets too tough, we’ll all just pick on you all the time.”

“Hyung!” Junsu yelps in protest, wobbling and nearly spilling ramyun everywhere.

“I’m not trying to beat anyone,” Changmin says, clenching his hands around his own bowl of ramyun to keep them where they are. To stop himself reaching out to try and steady Junsu. “I just like running.”

“Exercise is good for you,” Yunho says. “I’m glad you found a kind that you like.”

Jaejoong, who seems to have no opinion on physical activity whatsoever other than that it is necessary for them given their jobs, rolls his eyes.

“Ah, running is fun,” Junsu says, nodding and going back to his food. He looks pleased at having an answer that makes sense and Changmin presses his lips together for a moment.

“You could come with me,” he says. It’s a bad idea, he knows it’s a bad idea. Knows the quiet he’s looking for, the inner peace he keeps hoping to find, will never come to him if Junsu is there too. Junsu is so ing noisy all the time.

Junsu shakes his head. “There’s a soccer game I want to watch. I never get to anymore.”

Relief never used to be this complicated. This tangled.

“I could come,” Yunho offers and Changmin sighs.

“No, hyung, you can’t. You have a dentist appointment, remember? And then you promised the choreographer you’d help with some of the dances.”

Yunho is a good leader. He cares so much and he works so hard and he’s the easiest person to talk to Changmin’s ever met. And he’s really forgetful sometimes. He constantly loses his keys, his cell phone, his mp3 player, pens, pencils, notebooks. He never remembers meetings, or if he does it’s practically a miracle. Yoochun tried getting him an electronic calendar to help for his last birthday, but he lost that too. Changmin could have told him it would happen, but nobody asked him.

Still he tries to help. He remembers Yunho’s schedule for him. Keeps extra keys. Leaves notes in Yunho’s bag sometimes to remind him to eat something.

“Oh, ,” Yunho says, checking his watch. “I’m going to be late. . Where are my—”

“Your phone’s in your coat pocket from this morning,” Changmin tells him. “And your keys are on the shoe shelf by the door.”

Yunho pauses in getting up and stares at him. Then he smiles and reaches across the table to ruffle Changmin’s hair.

“Ah, how do people manage without one of you?” he asks.

Changmin ducks his head, hiding his smile. Because Yunho says things like that and he always, always means them and even if he’s not at all what Changmin thought a leader would be, he’s definitely what a leader should be and Changmin never wants another one. He’ll follow Yunho forever, he thinks.

“Probably with fewer headaches about grocery bills,” Jaejoong snarks. “How long will you be gone?”

“No idea,” says Yunho, gathering up his bowl and chopsticks. “The dancing might take a while. We’re trying to block out the main choreo for some of the new music. No one should wait up for me.”

He stands, gripping Jaejoong’s shoulder as he does and Jaejoong goes a little stiff, and that’s been happening lately and Changmin would maybe wonder about that only he’s never understood that relationship anyway. How two people who are so entirely different can be so close. Why Jaejoong is the person Yunho trusts more than anyone else or why Yunho is the only one who can make Jaejoong light up the way he does sometimes, smiling so bright and laughing like he can’t even help it. How Yunho can hear a sentence like ‘how long will you be gone?’ and know to answer the question ‘will you be home for dinner?’ instead of hearing ‘wow it’s irritating how little time you actually spend with us’ like Changmin would have.

“Who’s waiting?” Jaejoong grumbles. “You’ll be lucky if there’s even any food left, with these two vacuum cleaners eating all the time.” He smirks a little, indicating Changmin and Yoochun. Changmin hesitates, not sure whether to joke or apologize, but Yoochun just grins.

“At least we don’t set the stove on fire,” he says, nudging Junsu.

“Ah, yes. Please at least don’t burn the apartment down while I’m gone,” Yunho tells them, coming back from putting his dishes away and grabbing his coat and keys.

“No promises,” Yoochun calls after him cheerfully, ducking as Jaejoong takes a swipe at him.

The door closes. There’s silence for a moment and then, “I’ve only done that twice, you know,” Junsu says, pouting a little at his ramyun.

“Three times,” Jaejoong corrects him. Junsu is an absolute disaster in the kitchen.

Actually, Changmin thinks, it’s four, but Jaejoong doesn’t need to know about that.

He looks down at his bowl, away from Junsu’s pouting face.

—

Changmin doesn’t think he really looks much like an idol. His hair is short and normal, his eyes are a little uneven, and when he’s not paying attention to it, so is his smile. Noticeably. He’s also lanky rather than muscled and probably way too young, there’s no guarantee that his voice has actually settled. In fact, at fifteen, it’s far more likely that it hasn’t. But here he is, with a signed contract and all his things from home, meeting his future bandmates.

He’s not really sure any of them look like idols either. Well, except for one: the shorter boy standing next to the leader — right next to the leader — he might look like one. He’s certainly striking; hard and soft all at once, beautiful in a way Changmin didn’t know a human could be. He stands quietly, taking in everything with dark, unreadable eyes and saying nothing. Not one word. But apart from him, though…

The leader is tall and broad-shouldered for a teenager, but his teeth are crooked and he doesn’t seem anything like a leader. Is way too…too…too happy-go-lucky seeming, almost. Too charmed by everyone and everything. His smile is sincere and utterly disarming, despite the crooked teeth, and he stands there beside his silent friend beaming and beaming at all of them like there’s just too much happiness and excitement inside of him and he has to share it with the world.

He’s nothing like what Changmin would expect a leader to be like and he likes him immediately.

Probably everyone likes him immediately.

And the other two…

One is a boy about Changmin’s height, though much less lanky, with soft, shaggy-fluffy hair and a broad, expressive face and eyes that crinkle right up when he smiles. He’s muscled enough to seem masculine, but the hair and the face have a have a softening effect and Changmin thinks that if he ever stops making stupid faces he’d probably make a great romantic film actor. At least he’d look the part.

The final boy is…well, frankly, nothing like an idol at all, as far as Changmin can tell. He looks he just rolled out of bed. His clothes are rumpled and don’t really go together, he’s not even wearing socks, and except for the left side of his head, which is strangely flat, his hair is sticking out all over the place.

And Changmin stands there, staring and staring and feeling like such an outsider, like he has nothing at all in common with any of these boys, and he wonders if maybe he made a huge mistake. If maybe there’s no place for him here, either.

—

Changmin sits on the floor by the door, lacing up his sneakers. Yoochun is in the kitchen doing the dishes and Jaejoong has disappeared somewhere to avoid doing them. Junsu is sprawled out in the weirdest position in the livingroom; his front half on the table and his legs on the couch, bent at the knees and feet hooked over the back of the couch.

“Is that even comfortable?” Changmin asks, glaring at his shoelaces.

“What?” says Junsu, flipping through channels and not paying attention to anything else.

Changmin snorts and stands up. He grabs a light jacket.

“Sure you don’t want to come?” he hears himself say. Junsu doesn’t answer, just lets out a loud, happy sound as he finds the channel with his soccer game. Changmin presses his lips together and breathes out slowly through his nose. He leaves.

Junsu is so ing oblivious sometimes.

—

Stride-stride-stride-stride.

He used to know who he was.

Stride-stride-stride-stride.

But he doesn’t know what this is.

—

Junsu is whiny.

He has a twin brother who’s only a minute or two older but who he always calls ‘hyung’ anyway and who he talks to all the time and he whines to make himself seem younger.

Junsu is such a child.

He loves to play games and have fun and he’s really competitive sometimes but he dances with Yoochun and laughs like everything is amazing.

Junsu is a terrible student.

He can’t pay attention to more than one thing at a time and he can’t sit still for more than five minutes all together because he just wants life to be full of fun and movement, like him, and he’ll share that fun with anyone and everyone because that’s just who he is.

Junsu is a disaster in the kitchen.

He sets the stove on fire every single time and he never means to and he’s always sorry and he’s so surprised by the flames every time and Jaejoong might yell a lot but he always forgives him.

Junsu is always so noisy.

He’s a huge personality in a tiny body with a stupid face and hair that only ever lies flat on the left side because he smoothes that side down all the time and so does his twin and everyone thinks it’s just a cute little genetic quirk, but Changmin thinks it’s on purpose because Junsu loves his twin and he never takes off the bracelet he gave him, not even for photoshoots, so copying his twin’s habit on purpose is exactly the kind of thing he would do.

And Junsu is so blessed oblivious sometimes. Because he’s even more straightforward then Yunho-hyung is.

Because he takes everything at face value and never seems to understand about innuendo or double-entendres, dirty or otherwise.

Because he can’t understand why someone wouldn’t just say what they mean. What they want.

But maybe, most of all, because Changmin has never actually said anything.

—

Shim Changmin runs.

And tries to believe that the beat that he’s running to isn’t the sound of Kim Junsu’s name.