On the morning he leaves, Heechul wakes up, stone cold, from a bad dream. He wakes up shivering and hitching spasmodically until he ultimately slips off the side of the bed with a small gasp. The floor is icy, and he recoils from it, gripping the edge of the bed with an unsteady hand.

“Hankyung?” he whispers hoarsely, unable to see over his roommate’s bed from his current position. When Hankyung doesn’t answer, Heechul his chapped lips and continues, “I had a bad dream. Can you get me some water?”

The room is silent.

“Hankyung?” Heechul frowns, slightly annoyed, but the annoyance turns to fear when he pulls himself to his feet and sees that Hankyung’s bed is empty, barren, and perfectly made. Lips parted, he reaches up to his hair and tugs a small hair clip from it: a clip that had been holding his fringe back from his face as he slept. A clip that he recognizes from Hankyung’s bedside drawer.

“Eh…” Heechul breathes, and the fear heightens.

Numbly staggering over to Hankyung’s bed, he inspects the undented pillow, observes the smooth creases of the white sheets, flinches as he opens the drawers and sees that they are empty. He throws open the closet door: also empty. Hankyung’s suitcase that used to be there is gone.

He tells himself Hankyung might have forgotten to tell him about a ten-day-trip to China that he might have somehow spontaneously planned, or an overnight trip to a friend’s house that called for so many bottles of beer, he needed to take his suitcase in order to carry them all. He tells himself Hankyung will be back within the day, or at least call, or something, but when he sees that even the pictures Hankyung had taped to the wall are gone, he knows that he’s known it all along, and that he doesn’t want to know.

He wants to delude himself into believing that his best friend is still his best friend.

Instead, he only stands there, shaking.

> 

Kibum announces his departure, and Leeteuk nearly shatters right then and there. Heechul watches them bellow at each other, his eyes drooping wearily.

One after another, we leave, he thinks, and he hates himself for it.

Heechul gives a small clench of his teeth as Kibum breaks into an uncharacteristic scream, and Leeteuk screams back. Screaming is common these days; Heechul does it a good load himself, only not out loud. He keeps his screams silent and uncorrupting, lets them reverberate inside his chest for a good two or three seconds before forcing them downwards, somewhere far away like the place where Hankyung is.

And then, of course, there’s the feeling of regret. Heechul can’t begin to count the number of things he regrets doing to Hankyung. Primarily, he regrets that he couldn’t prevent his disappearance, couldn’t make Korea into a permanent home for Hankyung. At times, he wonders whether he should have made more of an effort to learn Chinese, so that maybe now he could speak it in front of the mirror without wanting to punch himself. When he does it, he only says one phrase: the only phrase he learned aside from the basics.

“星星”

He doesn’t know what it means, but he knows it’s important because Hankyung keeps saying it in his sleep, over and over again; he whispers it like a mantra. And as Heechul chokes it out, he can’t help thinking that Chinese is such a pretty language, and that it’s even prettier when Hankyung speaks it. He reminisces, not of achievements or stages or very-first-wins, but of soft-spoken words and sad smiles and trips to the river. Heechul won’t say the name of that river because when he does, he’s tempted to add ‘kyung’ onto the end, and if he does that, everything will explode in his face.

Heechul knows that names can bring misfortune, too, and Leeteuk screams Kibum’s name so loudly, Heechul thinks, Ah. Another taboo soon to come.

> 

“Leeteuk-ssi, how is Super Junior dealing with the loss of two of its members—”

“Get out of my ing way. I don’t want to talk about it.”

> 

Donghae cries into the fabric of Heechul’s shirt, and Heechul realizes with a pang that Donghae maybe just loved Kibum the way Heechul did: a love that’s rare and dangerous, jumbled up into a strange, tangled mess. There’s a difference, though. Donghae’s is the innocent love, and Heechul’s is the messed up love that won’t ever be repaired.

If Kibum comes back, that love will continue as though it never stopped.

> 

On slow days, Heechul sits in their…no, his room and counts the dents in the wall. Each dent, he knows, tells a story; a moment in which certain emotions could be released only though destruction and demolition. Hankyung’s fists, Hankyung’s scarred knees and red-streaked elbows—the main characters. Heechul’s eyes and Heechul’s strangely unruffled gaze—oh, Kim Heechul is not always the violent one.

He traces his finger through the pockmarks, closing his eye as he remembers the veins that bulged out in Hankyung’s right arm as he struck, made of wild eyes and harsh breathing and strong, steady feet. He holds his breath as he recalls the way Hankyung’s knuckles began to leak crimson: gradually and then all at once in a smooth, steady flow, as if the blood represented every single misfortune in Heechul’s life.

They arrive gradually, then all at once.

Heechul looks at the scars on the wall, then raises his arm and leaves just one more.

> 

Heechul passes the time with a tired body, tired eyes.  Leeteuk is screaming again, this time at Kangin, who sits and takes it like the man he is.

“Don’t you ever think about your bandmates?” Leeteuk says quietly after a series of screaming.

Kangin looks up at him, and his eyes are sad. Always, always sad, Heechul thinks as he watches. It’s like we’re breaking to pieces. Then Kangin turns to the window and gazes out into the yard, where the trees are beginning to bloom, and he smiles (sadly) and Heechul’s heart contracts painfully.

“I’ll leave,” Kangin says, and Leeteuk starts crying.

> 

The part Heechul loves most in Bonamana is the part where Siwon’s part ends, and they high-five before Heechul’s part begins.

It’s a small thing, but satisfactory, and Heechul has to suppress a smile as he sings his own four seconds. Nowadays, Siwon is helpful. When Heechul is drunk and depressed, Siwon rushes into his room and exhales quietly as he cradles Heechul’s head in his hands, murmuring, “Hyung,” over and over under his breath. Heechul closes his eyes and sinks into Siwon’s embrace, Siwon’s firm and steady arms, and he’s cold as ice in Siwon’s fiery warmth.

“Heechul-hyung,” Siwon says one day, looking nervous with his cell phone in hand. “He…called.”

Heechul, whose heart skips a few terrified beats, swallows quietly as he picks up the phone and holds it to his ear. Then, after a moment of silence, Hankyung’s voice is drifting over from 1500 miles away.

“Hey.”

Heechul’s mouth runs dry, and there’s another few moments of silence, before Hankyung goes, “Hello?” and Heechul replies.

“I—uh, hey,” he breathes, trying to suppress the ache that’s mounting in his chest. “Hi, Hankyung.”

“So.”

“So…?”

“Is everything okay?”

The question makes Heechul slightly angry; he grits his teeth and replies carefully, “Yes, everything’s perfectly fine. Is there a reason you’re calling?” He doesn’t mention the fact that neither of them have bothered to call each other since Hankyung’s departure, or that Super Junior has been steadily falling apart, or that thirteen somehow turned into ten in the blink of an eye; he’s too stubborn to mention any of that.

“I just wanted to…well, you see, I’m trying to figure things out and I just… just wanted to see how things were going in Korea.” Hankyung sounds breathless, his voice straining painfully.

Heechul’s eyes narrow. “Liar,” he mutters. “You wouldn’t call for something like that.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line, and Heechul knows Hankyung is debating whether to come clean or to deny Heechul’s accusation.

“You know me too well,” he finally sighs, and Heechul grimaces at the familiar words.

“What do you want?” he mutters, and Hankyung fumbles slightly with his next words.

“Well…Heechul, I’m calling because—because I need help…”

> 

He’s up making phone calls all night: to composers and lyricists and choreographers, putting his many connections to good use. In that moment, there’s nothing in Heechul’s mind but Hankyung, Hankyung’s album and Hankyung’s dreams, Hankyung’s grudgingly admirable determination to continue moving forward all by himself.

“Yes, I’m calling for a friend who needs help producing an album…yes, sir, it’s complicated…”

Heechul’s lungs are aching, and when he makes his final phone call and it’s 5:46 in the morning, his voice is hoarse and he has no idea how he is going to survive on Star King the next day.

He sleeps with his leader that night, crawls into his bed and settles down into the covers, careful not to make any noise. And then he reaches out his hand and gently slips it into Leeteuk’s outstretched fingers like a small child would, and Leeteuk, who is maybe not quite asleep, squeezes ever so slightly, the tiniest of creases descending upon his brow.

Heechul begins to adore the way Leeteuk’s flank rises and falls, oh so slowly like the passing of time.

> 

Zhou Mi, whom Heechul hasn’t seen since the car accident, arrives at the dorms one day: his first visit in who-knows-how-long. He arrives fully loaded with new clothes and accessories and designer handbags, which he evenly distributes to each member present at that moment. Heechul finds himself holding a year’s worth of clothing, along with three brand new, fuchsia-colored Louis Vuitton luxury purses. He thanks the heavens for Zhou Mi’s steady income.

The lanky Chinese member flashes his balmy smile and explains that he will be living here until his actual apartment is vacated; he’d lent it to a couple of tourists with no place to stay. It’s good news for all the members, and as Zhou Mi encloses his hyungs in a series of bone-crushing hugs, Heechul finds his spirits lifting for the first time since Hankyung disappeared.  

“Hyung,” Zhou Mi beams when he sees Heechul. “It’s good to see you.” As he bends forward to hug the older, Heechul finds that tears are pricking at the sides of his eyes. Forcing them away, he reaches up and weaves his fingers through Zhou Mi’s chestnut hair, breathing in Zhou Mi’s scent and his aura and his warmth.

He sometimes thinks that he’s a er for the Chinese.

> 

It’s like déjà vu: the hate, the stinginess, and the silent tears. Heechul quietly squeezes Zhou Mi’s hand as they walk along the street among fans and anti-fans alike. Zhou Mi keeps his eyes to the ground, refusing to look at the massive crowd who is spitting at his feet and glaring at him hostilely. You don’t belong here, is what their eyes say, and it’s most definitely déjà vu.

Shut up, Heechul wants to shout at them, but he knows that Leeteuk would want him to control himself and stay quiet. It’s not your fight, the leader would say. Zhou Mi and Henry are strong. Let them overcome this on their own.

But Heechul’s mind always spirals back to another person, another tall and lanky person with endlessly long legs and an enormously bright smile, a person who, too, would clench his fists and glare at the floor while hatred soared through the air above his head, ever taking its toll. He reminds himself that he made the mistake of deciding that person’s fate for him, and from the moment that mask came off, everything spiraled downwards.

And then he thinks to something his manager used to say when he was practicing the choreography to ‘Don’t Don’.

It’s impossible to make the same mistake twice. The second time, it isn’t a mistake. It’s a choice.

This time, Heechul thinks, he will make the right choice.

> 

Hankyung’s album comes out in a flurry of hype and propaganda. Heechul visits the Super Junior fancafe for the first time in 4 years, and sure enough, everyone is freaking out over it. “Hwaiting” and “oppa saranghaeyo” are scrawled all over the screen in a typeset that gives too much favor to certain words.

To be fairer, one word in particular.

+981 -22 kkkk amazing, but what’s going on with Heechul?

+740 -56 Where is Kim Heechul? Shouldn’t he be supporting Han Geng?

+526 -12 Heechul…kk

+198 -4 Kim Heechul and Han Geng hwaiting—everyone support new album! Daebak!

+20 -2 It feels wrong without Heenim, ah…what to do?

Kibum calls that night and brings everything into perspective. “Understand now, hyung?” he says in a pleasantly sour tone. “He realized that everything he did would eventually be traced back to you. He was afraid that you had somehow worked your way into his very identity, and that you had begun to define him.”

“That’s absurd,” Heechul murmurs faintly.

“It’s true, don’t you think? You saw the way the fans reacted. Your name showed up every two lines. Han Geng was losing himself to you, and he was terrified of that.”

Kibum knew. Heechul is somehow beginning to hate himself.

“…why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Oh. Um, Han Geng hyung’s wishes. He said he needed to figure things out by himself. No offense, but you would have gotten in the way.”

Heechul notices that Kibum is using Hankyung’s Chinese name, and it bothers him to no end. “Hankyung,” he says pointedly. “Is a ing douche.”

“You can’t blame him for what he did. Especially not you, hyung.”

“What are you saying…?”

“Well, I just spent twenty minutes explaining why you’re the reason he left…”

“…Kibum.”

“Yes, hyung?”

“Sometimes you anger me.”

“Hm?”

“Like, every time your mouth opens.”

> 

Heechul shuts all thoughts, reminders, and memories of Hankyung out of his life and tries to go about his daily routine. He films dramas and shoots photos and kisses Leeteuk and hugs Eunhyuk and trips over curbs and kisses Sungmin and uses Twitter and kisses Siwon and kisses Henry and kisses Ryeowook and drinks smoothies and kisses Zhou Mi like his life depends on it.

It angers him and relieves him at the same time that things are moving on, and times are changing. The members have grown from a bunch of confused, idiotic kids to a group of mature and independent adults. Even Kyuhyun who sometimes still sleeps with his satin blue blanket is growing up: his plushy body becoming lean and steady. When Heechul presses against it, it’s no longer comforting. It’s a jarring reminder of the fact that he is getting old.

Heechul still clings to Zhou Mi, who is stable and trustworthy and always smiles real big when he sees his hyung. Zhou Mi has become somewhat of a salvation: a shoulder to lean on after a tiring concert and a source of warmth during the chilly hours spent waiting in the airport. After time spent apart, Heechul rushes into Zhou Mi’s broad, welcoming arms and latches his own arms around Zhou Mi’s long neck and is just way more grateful than he should ever be about any one person.

Zhou Mi tells him, “I’ve got your back!” and flashes him a grin and a cheery thumbs up, and Heechul can’t help but to smile back.

How the days are filled with joy.

> 

The days are filled with endless melancholy; Heechul can’t shake the feeling that he’s being left behind. Everyone is improving, and Heechul is nearing his thirties. With a heavy heart, he decides to enlist quietly.

The fans are devastated, of course, and they wish him good luck. Leeteuk cries for a whole month, and the rest of the members sob and embrace Heechul in a conglomerate of body heat and sorrowful tears.

But when Heechul leaves the dorms for the last time, it’s like he was never there.

> 

Time is sifting slowly.

> 

“Zhou Mi.”

“Who’s this? Did you call a wrong number?”

“Oh, no…I got a new phone. Zhou Mi, it’s Han Geng.”

“Ge? It’s you?”

“Yeah, my new album came out. I’m sending you a signed copy, okay?”

“Really? That’s amazing! I’ll tell everyone to support you.”

“Haha, thanks. Oh, but if you see Heechul, say thanks for me, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Heechul-hyung enlisted recently, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I guess it’s a little longer huh?”

“Two years…”

“Mhm. Oh well, it’s okay, Zhou Mi. Have you been taking care of everyone? When I get back there, I don’t want to find a group that’s split in two.”

“Relax, ge. Everything’s going well.”

> 

 One day, it’s chaos because the door opens and Hankyung walks in, relatively cheerful and dragging two huge trunks behind him. Leeteuk stares at him and drops his mug of coffee, which splashes all over his brand new white shoes. The other members are frozen to their spots, and Siwon makes a strangled noise in his throat.

Sungmin walks in from his bedroom, takes one look at Hankyung, and nonchalantly states, “Well, that was unexpected.”

Hankyung glances around at the mortified faces of his bandmates and props his luggage against the wall. “Where’s—“

“Heechul’s not here.”

There’s an awkward pause as Hankyung stares at Kyuhyun, who is looking a bit defiant. “I know he isn’t here,” Hankyung says carefully. “I meant to ask where Zhou Mi was.”

“Zhou Mi is guesting on Shindong’s radio show,” Leeteuk whispers, still squinting at Hankyung as though he might be an illusion. “He should be back…right about now, actually.”

And then, as if the gods predicted it, Zhou Mi walks in with Shindong following. The door swings shut and is then pushed open again by an extremely irate Heechul.

“Look, Seasoning, if you’re gonna invite me back here, at least be polite enough to hold the door open for me—oh.” Heechul catches sight of Hankyung and his bag falls to the floor with a small thump. The room is silent, and Hankyung gives a very uncomfortable wave.

“Hi.”

Then Heechul seems to realize what he’s seeing and his cheeks turn a bit pale. He drops his gaze and stumbles over to Leeteuk, who steadies him instinctively. “Hi,” Heechul mutters, refusing to look at Hankyung. “I didn’t know you would be here.” Hankyung shifts nervously, and something small inside of Heechul remembers that Hankyung is scared of both being stared at and being ignored, and the way it makes absolutely no sense, but is somehow still so genuine. He swallows carefully and continues, his voice cutting through the silence.

“Have you figured things out?”

The members’ eyes shift from Heechul to Hankyung back to Heechul back to Hankyung, who slowly replies, “To a certain degree.” Another awkward silence ensues, and Leeteuk says in a voice that’s way too loud and way too bright, “Haha…well, let’s eat dinner, then!”

There’s a flurry of muttered consent while all the members flock to the kitchen for a portion of Ryeowook’s fine cooking. Heechul excuses himself and retreats to his room, leaving Hankyung standing around awkwardly in front of the television.

> 

An hour later, as Heechul is browsing the internet on his phone, he receives a text.

To: Hee

From: Hankyung

Subject: ugh woww

Well, this is terribly awkward -__-

Heechul scoffs at the text before reluctantly sending a reply.

To: Hankyung

From: Hee

Subject: Re: ugh woww

Tell me about it >> I didn’t even get to eat dinner…it’s all your fault

A few seconds later, his phone buzzes again.

To: Hee

From: Hankyung

Subject: Re: ugh woww

I haven’t eaten either - - I’m outside your door, come out if you wanna grab some dinner with me

He raises an eyebrow skeptically and is about to refuse when his stomach starts growling. He grits his teeth, sighs, and grudgingly agrees.

To: Hankyung

From: Hee

Subject: Re: ugh woww

Wait.

He rolls out of bed and throws on a loose shirt and jeans, pausing to grab a slightly tattered leather jacket off the drawer before opening the door to a prickly-looking Hankyung, who glances over Heechul’s shoulder into what used to be their room. Then, after a few beats…

“It’s so messy,” is his only comment.

And by some twisted, magical law of nature, Heechul snorts indignantly, and the sheet of ice that had been forming between them breaks.

“I’m sorry,” Heechul scoffs heatedly. “Sorry I don’t sweep the place every five minutes because I happen to see a dust bunny in between the floorboards. Sorry I don’t spray the entire thing with pesticide when my nonexistent roommate accidentally drops a crumb of carrot cake on the bed. Sorry I don’t—“

“For the record, I did not spray the room with pesticide. I’ve never even owned pesticide—“

“Oh, shut up. How should I know what kind of twisted black magic you learn from Sungmin?”

“What the fridge are you talking about? Sungmin learned it from me!”

“Well, it’s not my fault I never did chores like you did, growing up on a farm—“

“I did not grow up on a farm!”

There’s a pause, and then Heechul laughs, which makes Hankyung laugh too, and it feels like three years ago, or four, whichever it is, Heechul can’t remember, but the point is that everything feels normal and just right.

Heechul places a hand on Hankyung’s shoulder; it burns for a second, but then it’s nice. “Let’s just go eat,” he says.

> 

“I’m only visiting for a short time. I have to leave within the month.”

Heechul swallows, picking at his food. Even though he knows the answer, he asks, “Where do you have to go?”

Hankyung says nothing, but the answer hangs between them. China. Always China. There’s no escaping from China when it comes to Hankyung. Heechul wonders: if he had to live in China for a long time, would he miss his home country like Hankyung does, aching with every inch of his body?

He’s pondering this when Hankyung says, barely audibly, “You know, I can’t see the stars in China.” Heechul looks up at him, jerked away from his train of thought.

“Huh?” He says intelligently.

“It’s because of the air. It’s gray and dead, at least where I live right now. When you look up at night, all you see is a sheet of black.”

Hankyung looks Heechul in the eye and continues. “Well, I wanted to visit Korea so I could see the stars.”

Heechul is frowning because Hankyung looks uncharacteristically serious, and he’s about to reply, you can’t see the stars here either, before Hankyung smiles and somehow, Heechul can’t find his voice.

 “I might not be making any sense right now,” Hankyung mutters, and he suddenly seems a bit ticked off. “To be honest, I wanted to be my own person, but I guess now that I’ve stepped foot in this place again, that’s going to be a bit difficult. Because…” Hankyung’s voice drops until it’s just barely there, barely existent, and Heechul has to read his lips to understand.

“There are stars here that can’t be found anywhere else..”

By now, Hankyung is really not making sense, but Heechul can tell that it’s important, and he stays silent and holds his breath for fear of breaking the tension that has built up; for once, the tension is a good thing, and Heechul wants it to be there. And while it’s there, Heechul thinks that maybe it’s not him that defines Hankyung, but Hankyung that defines Heechul.

When Hankyung is there and he smiles that extremely subtle smile and starts talking about vague and yet somehow meaningful things like the presence of stars and talks about them in Korean far too advanced for a person of his background and just talks and talks and…nonexistent-god, when he puts that tension there between them, that’s when Heechul always thinks that Hankyung defines him: when Hankyung puts the tension there.

Heechul is made of that tension, and the tension is Hankyung, and Hankyung is the tension, and all of a sudden Hankyung is saying something that sounds a little bit like,

“Hey, when your contract ends, what are you gonna do?”

And Heechul finds himself saying, “I guess maybe I’ll go to China.”

Because China is always there.

> 

In the end, it’s also there. China is the land that surrounds them, the air the tickles their hair; China is the water they drink and the rain that falls upon them. China should be gloomy because it’s raining and they have no umbrella and are stranded between flooding streets, and Heechul is frowning.

But Hankyung is smiling.

Because eight years have passed and there are finally stars in China.

A/N: hello - - /

well, I finally finished after, like, a month, so. comment if you want; I'd appreciate feedback.

thanks