I'm updating this quicker as a form of respect to EunB, her family, and to pray for the recovery of Sojung and Rise.
Love, Epione.

Her phone rang at five in the morning. Although she was in her white nightdress, she was not sleeping. Junhee was sitting on her bed, knees to her chest, fingers fidgeting with the frill of her long sleeves. Her unfocused eyes took a second longer than usual to react to the incoming call.

Jongup.

Her heart did a tiny skip, surprised that she wasn’t the only one awake in this cold planet. With shaky hands, she accepted the call, but found her voice gone all of a sudden.

“Hello? I know you’re there,” the static voice that belonged to BAP’s drummer murmured. “I can hear you breathing.”

Letting out a shaky sigh, Junhee stared at the drawn curtains beside her bed that was starting to glow for the dawn.

“Yeah,” she found herself saying without much conviction.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.”

A quiet chuckle reached her ear, although the voice didn’t sound very amused, “I guessed that.”

A pause.

“Hey.”

“Yeah,” she said hollowly.

“Do something for me,” said the static. “Come out and open the front door.”

Junhee frowned. “Why?”

“Just because.”

The line went dead.

A beast, a man, above, below;
One has a plan, but two must go…  

“A DREAM RECORDER YOU SAID!” roared Zelo, red in the face. He was pushed back down into his seat by Himchan, as they all crowded around him. Youngjae now moved to the other side of the table, next to Yongguk, after getting punched on the shoulder.

“That was a matter of speech, and you know it!” argued Youngjae, waving his arms around wildly. “We ALL know there is no such thing as a Dream Recorder, for gods’ sake you’re better than this. Come up with a better excuse!”

Zelo was breathing hard, his hands turning into fists, his mind going haywire. Himchan had now stored his phone away after wrenching it out of the bassist’s grasp when he attempted to throw it.

“Zelo, look. We’re on your side,” Himchan tried saying calmly. “Just tell us what’s going on, okay?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” snapped the bassist, lurching up from his chair only to be pushed down again.

Youngjae opened his mouth to retort only to have Yongguk raised his hand in demand of silence.

“You have to,” grunted Yongguk in the grimmest of tone that everybody stiffen. “We’ve put up with this act long enough,” he said leaning over the table, ignoring Himchan’s widened eyes; this wasn’t the plan. Yongguk continued anyway, “You’re not the only one with a story, Zelo. All of us have them, and what we did with them is tell somebody, so we can let go.”

“But it’s mine,” snapped Zelo, stiffening. “I don’t want to let go.”

“You’ve been here long enough. You know each of us, and we’re still waiting–”

“So, that’s what you want?” snarled Zelo. “Some kind of reciprocation? What is this, a social theory?”

“Well, yes,” snorted Youngjae, impressed at the kid’s knowledge. “But that isn’t the point.” He sighed, feeling the warning glare from Yongguk. “Point is… it’s time you cough up.”

Tension ensued as Zelo glared at them all. Youngjae found something sinister in those eyes, and he couldn’t help but look away. He knew those eyes. He’d seen them before when he was younger, and every single time he looked in the mirror. Youngjae swallowed.

“Why,” Zelo breathed. His voice threatened to crack. “I don’t understand.”

“We want to help,” said Himchan quietly. “We want to get to know you–”

“But THIS is who I am,” bellowed Zelo. “And I don’t need help. Why can’t you all just— stop this nosing around? So what if I’ve got a problem? Whoever I am got nothing to do with you.”

“Is this who you are?” said Yongguk quietly.

Zelo spat, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yongguk gave him a solemn smile, which Youngjae did not understand. “Is this how you’ve always been, Zelo?”

Zelo didn’t answer. He looked trapped, and Youngjae realised what this was. The only thing Zelo knew was that he needed to defend himself, because he no longer felt safe, because he just painted himself into a corner.

The bassist stared at them with suspicion and hurt in his eyes, and Youngjae looked away.

“Whatever she told you, she’s lying,” he hissed.

“Who?”

“Junhee.” He looked exposed and frightened, but nobody apart from Youngjae seemed to notice this. Zelo’s eyes told everything Youngjae needed to know. He felt betrayed.

“You want to hear what I’ve got to say after you listened to her?” He lurched up from his chair and nobody tried to stop him this time. “You’re not entitled to anything–”

“Wait, stop,” halted Youngjae, standing up too. “Hey, as much as I want to know, I don’t think this is fair.” They all stared at Youngjae now. He continued gently, “Look, Zelo. You’re getting ahead of yourself.” Youngjae lowered his voice. “Nobody said anything about anybody, just… sit down, please. We really don’t know anything.”

The others watched as Youngjae slowly lowered himself back onto his seat, eyes not leaving the bassist, who eventually, did the same. The tension at the table seemed to have dissipated after that.

“I think I’ll do the talking,” offered Youngjae calmly. His voice held no edge, no malice; it even sounded kind, “just this bit.”

He felt eyes on him, but he kept his focus on the boy in front of him, pretending there was no one else.

“I’m going to call you by your real name, just for this,” muttered Youngjae, watching the boy for any hint of resistance. It was there, but it was like Zelo saw something on his face that stopped him from protesting.

“Junhong,” he started hesitantly. “Before I… every time I faced my father… I get this nasty feeling. Like– like, my clothes and flesh vanished, and all I am is an open wound, that people can probe and prod their fingers into and… that’s what vulnerability is like for me,” he in a breath, “and I hate feeling vulnerable.”

Mile after mile, above, beneath;
One has a smile, and one has teeth… 

She stared at her phone now, wondering if she’d just imagined the call. Something inside her flitted, like morse code, spelling out the words that shouldn’t exist. ‘Just a little more of this and you will never come back,’ it was like a whisper, chilled and taunting.

She wasn’t crazy, Junhee thought, getting up from her bed, making her way out of the room.

‘Ah, but don’t they all think they are sane?’ the all-knowing voice taunted.

Junhee walked faster, practically running by the time she swung the front door open. Her heart sank as she stared at the empty hallway. She allowed herself a second of panic before she shoved it back down, poking her head out for any sign of life. And then she heard it.

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