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Jonghyun

Most days I'm happy, but on some days things hit hard and they hurt.

It's like I wear a mask, almost. A mask that slowly seems to be cracking and chipping and I'm terrified. Unlike Kibum, who can show his insecurities through his speech, or lack of it, I find the need to hide.
I guess we both hide, just differently.

He hides by shutting himself out, and away.
I hide by giving myself a new identity. 
Kim Kibum is different from Key. It's like how Kim Jonghyun is different from SHINee's Jonghyun. The difference between my stage persona to be, and myself, it's not as big as the difference between Kibum and Key. Still, the difference is big enough to make me feel strange. To make me feel inadequate when practicing, to make me stop and stare at myself in the mirror and wonder, who am I, really?

Opening the door to our bedroom quietly, I take the care to climb up the ladder to Kibum's bunk bed as silently as possible so as to make sure that I don't wake the other members who are still sleeping.

We rise in this order in the morning: Myself, followed by Kibum, then Minho, maknae and Jinki hyung. Therefore, the job of bringing Kibum his anxiety medication every morning fell to me, not that I mind, truly, because mornings appear to be the only time when Kibum is willing to talk, even if just a little. I haven't found out why, maybe it's the surreality of the morning, when the sunlight is not yet sharp and bright enough to cut into your heart and your mind and make the words that pour from one's mouth so clear and memorable, when it's grey, not black, not ominous enough to be like night.

"Kibummie, hey...wake up." I shake him gently, watching as his long lashes flutter slightly and his lids lift, blinking blearily up at me. So cute. It's the few minutes when he just wakes up and the insecurities haven't seem to set in that he seems at his s