The clock ticked melancholically, each second burning with a new rush of anxieties.

“How much longer…?” He thought despairing, “There’s no way out of this…not now the situation has reached epidemic proportions…”

He questioned himself; the instigation of all these events was tarnished with so many countless lies and fabrications, that the truth seemed as distant as the Earth was to the White Tiger of the West*.

At that time, however, it seemed that they could overcome this. It seemed that it would only be a while until they would wear triumphant expressions once again, as they returned to their performances and proved that Super Junior would always be one.

Although they may make mistakes along the way, Super Junior was faultless, right?

Yet, as he reflected back into the sinister, mysterious night, he realised how unreasonable and foolish his philosophy was.

If someone had told Park Jungsoo, at this particular moment of time, that there wasn’t one enthusiast left, he would’ve agreed.

It seemed ridiculous – pathetic, even, that Super Junior – Asia’s pinnacle of success – had lost all of their fans in a single night.

Yet, it was the clear truth.

A fan does not abandon a group during difficulties whilst enjoining on their achievements. A fan’s duty becomes creating the sole foundation for growth. A place where Super Junior is allowed to fall, stumble, trip and stagger yet when they decide to stand up and continue walking, they are supported.

This was not the case, however. It was evident that Super Junior was lonesome, friendless and forlorn. If there was anyone who cared, anyone who could express any empathy, Jungsoo would’ve sworn to protect them.

His senseless thoughts continued preoccupying his mind for a lengthy amount of time; first lingering, then vanishing, then finally revisiting him again. Each time with a new set of worries, a new set of anxieties, and a new set of uncertainties intruding his thoughts.

Until, almost half an hour later, there was a gentle knock on the dormitory door.

Kangin walked in.

His face was struck with remorse; he seemed helpless.

Yet, Leeteuk forbade himself to feel even the slightest amount of repentance towards him. He continued bathing himself in angst, looking away from Kangin to seem distracted.

He was too overwhelmed by his emotions to even notice the caution Kangin was taking.

Leeteuk gave Kangin a bitter look and then shifted his gaze away from him.

He didn’t want to see Kangin. It carried too much pain.

Kangin fiddled with his fingers nervously, opening his mouth and closing it, multiple times, as if he had lost his voice or was struggling to say something.

Leeteuk failed to notice.

Or so it seemed.

“The Manager said I won’t be allowed to participate in schedules for at least a year.” Kangin finally spitted out.

Leeteuk looked at him through the corner of his eye and then refocused his vision on the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry for failing you.” Kangin added.

There was another moment of awkward silence as Kangin continued looking at his fingernails.

“Tell the members…I said sorry…” Kangin stuttered, as he retrieved the black suitcase his manager had packed for him.

“They’re all sleeping.” Leeteuk finally said, “They were tired of waiting for you,”

Kangin remained silent, he knew better than to end his last meeting with Jungsoo on a disagreement.

“They are always tired of waiting for you. Unlike you, the rest of us respect this opportunity to be a Super Junior member. I hope you’re happy. Even I don’t know the way forward now.”

“I’m sorry …” Kangin said, as he opened his mouth without words yet again; he fumbled over how to address his leader.

“Give us our fans back. Then you’ll be truly sorry.” Leeteuk said irrationally, his voice thick with vengeance and bitterness.

Knowing it would be useless to even answer, Kangin stayed quiet, sorrow overpowering him.

There was another moment of silence, they both remained quiet, none of them daring to speak.

“I guess this is goodbye then…” Kangin stated, “I’m sorry for neglecting my duty of being a Super Junior member, I’m really sorry…To all the members, especially you, the leader.”

Leeteuk scratched his neck, his eyes pressing on Kangin.

“It’s ok.” Leeteuk said, his eyes slowly b with tears. “Stay safe, I’ll see you soon.”

“Neh hyung…” Kangin said as he continued looking at Leeteuk regretfully, he knew he couldn’t comfort Leeteuk in any way, he felt helpless, feeble…

Turning away, Kangin walked through the dormitory door for the last time.

“Life couldn't get better (hey~)Nan nol pume ango nara ~ Purun darul hyanghe nara (ho~) Jamdun noui ib machul koya~”

Leeteuk’s ringtone tuned melodically.

Leeteuk smiled bitterly, through all the tears, angst and helplessness.

“Wasn’t this ironic?” He thought, pressing a button on his mobile to end the call and resuming his silence for the rest of the night.

* White Tiger of the West (西方白虎) = Chinese Terminlogy for Cassiopeia. Known as Baekho in Korean.

Thank you for reading this story. Although it isn't good, and there are many faults...

Thank you for your patience.

©  25.09.11 . rulebreaker.