“I don’t understand why we have to attend the funeral.”

Joonmyeon shot a glare at EXO’s sixth eldest member. “I never knew you were such an insensitive prick.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Why yo–”

“Enough.” Yifan stepped between his younger members, large hands on their chests. “The others have already headed to the dressing room. The both of you, go and change out of your stage outfits now.”

Seeing how they hadn’t moved an inch, their eyes still participating in a glare-down, Yifan sighed before motioning Chanyeol over to drag his same-aged friend over to the dressing room to get changed.

“Tch.” The boy broke the glare, as he crossed his arms and scowled. “Just so you know, I’ll go, unwillingly.” He spun on his heels and trudged noisily out of the room, as a frightened puppy, at Yifan’s gesture, trailed after him.

The door shut gently, and Yifan thought that would be the end of it but the door opened once more, and the boy’s deep scowl emerged from the slight hole. He shot a dark glare at his leader before slamming the door, hard. Joonmyeon swore he saw the walls of the room shake and shuddered at the thought of being buried in this gloomy space. Though I’d have Kris, but still…

“Joonmyeon, there’s no need to be angry with that brat.” Yifan chided softly, his voice breaking the leader’s daze, as the elder removed his hand from the leader’s chest. “If he’s like that, then leave him be.”

“I wish I could. But I really never knew that he’d be so– so heartless!” The fourth eldest buried his face in his hands, a loud worried sigh escaping his lips. “I just– It was supposed to be a happy day for us, for our fans here… Why did that have to happen…?! Why must one of our fans pass away on the day of our concert…?” He lifted his head, and Yifan was slightly taken aback at the boy’s reddening and glistening eyes. “It’s unfair. It’s so unfair to her!”

And the tears spilled from his eyes, as he hastily wiped them away with the back of his hands. Yifan glanced around the room and relief flooded him when none of the boys’ faces greeted him back. Good, the boys don’t need to see their leader breaking down. They’d be even more depressed and gloomy and we have more than what we can handle on our plates right now.

He placed a hand on his fellow leader’s shoulder, gripping it gently yet the reassurance could be felt flooding his body through the contact. Joonmyeon gradually stopped crying, as his reddened and somewhat swollen eyes appeared — the aftermath of his sudden tears.

Yifan sniggered. “We better get the make-up artist to conceal those; wouldn’t want the media to see that how ugly you look after crying, Joonmyeon ah.”

The boy fancied a soft snicker as he nodded and he exited the empty room, his legs walking on their own towards the dressing room with the Chinese giant in tow.

“I know it’s unfair for her, but life’s like that.” Yifan whispered as they weaved through the numerous workers carrying structures as they began to dismantle the stage. “Life’s unfair.”

“I know.” Joonmyeon replied quietly, as the door to the dressing room greeted them. Muffled noises could be heard through the slightly ajar door, and a certain member’s complaints escaped the room. The fourth eldest clenched his fists upon hearing those thoughtless words, but the thought of visiting a fan, one of their beloved fans, calmed him down. Placing a hand on the knob, he pushed the door open as he addressed Yifan with determination that the elder boy hasn’t seen from his leader since they have debuted.  

“That’s why we’re going to make things fair for her now.”

“Remember, look sad.” EXO’s manager reminded, as the bus pulled into a lot at a carpark. “She’s one of your fans after all.”

The twelve boys nodded, some removing earphones from their ears before stowing them into their respective bags while others cautiously pried their fingers from their clenched positions as the boys have been resting on their knuckles for most of the journey from the concert venue to the location of the wake.

Joonmyeon stood up first, his eyes sweeping across s’ faces.

We don’t need to be reminded; we already are.

Ten downcast expressions stared back at him, but the leader’s brows furrowed when his eyes landed on the last boy who looked bored and annoyed instead of the emotion that their manager wanted them to portray.  

Joonmyeon clenched his fists, his face contorting in simmering rage and he was about to stomp over to that boy, wanting to give him a piece of his mind, when a familiar large hand stopped him in his path. He subconsciously glared at the owner who was shaking his head, but Yifan’s heartbroken expression didn’t budge.

Don’t. His pleading eyes seem to say. Don’t make things harder than it already is.

Next to him, Zitao was a crying mess — his jet-black hair mussed by his hands that clutched at them, his dark circles more evident on his pale face as his eyes were swollen and small, and the poor boy couldn’t stop sniffling; a packet of tissues in his hands as he blew his nose, much to the disgust of his favourite hyung.

Biting on the insides of his mouth, Joonmyeon spun on his heels and followed after his manager who motioned for him to alight. Behind him, he heard the shuffling of feet as the other boys dragged themselves silently to the door one after another.

Stepping down from the bus, the leader had expected himself to be bombarded by blinding flashes from cameras but there was none. No one was stationed at the door to usher them, no bodyguards were seen rushing to protect them and astonishingly, no media and fangirls surrounded them. The carpark was tranquil, as it should be for the time then was past midnight. Not a soul was in the area, except for a few who sat under the bright lights at the void deck that would have blinded anyone who stared, but an alarming number of vehicles surrounded their transport, which added to Joonmyeon’s puzzlement and confusion. Odd, I’m sure that the local news reported the accident. So why wouldn’t anyone be here…?

“Boys! Gather round!”

Glancing up from their phones, EXO’s confusion were written over their faces as their managers burst into their waiting room with pieces of papers in their hands. Beads of perspiration dotted their foreheads and Yixing hurriedly dabbed his own towel on their faces, in which the managers gratefully thanked.

“We have news.”

Luhan grimaced. “Good, or bad news?”

The managers’ expressions were unreadable as they smoothed the crumpled pieces of papers out on the table, and the foreign language of English greeted them. Everyone snapped their heads to the only English speaker amongst them, who frowned as he snatched the paper up and his eyes darted from left to right.

They widened and his jaw slacked as Yifan lowered his hands, the paper slipping from his long digits. Kyungsoo caught it, and he began to decipher the characters, his doe eyes sweeping the sentences wildly. Like the third eldest, his orbs grew larger than they already were and Zitao was more than shocked when he found his same-aged friend’s eyes to be welling up in tears.

“K-Kyungsoo…?” He gingerly placed an arm around his friend’s shoulders and realised that the boy was shaking. “W-What’s wrong?”

The rest of the boys gazed at Yifan for answers as the tallest raked a hand through his unstyled hair, his fringe flopping over his glistening eyes.

“One of our fans… got into a traffic accident this morning while she was on her way here, to attend our concert.” The boy gulped dryly, his eyes blinked and a single tear escaped. “Sh-She never made it.”

It took awhile for the news to sink in but when it did, the room was filled with sniffles and sounds of comforting and condolences. The boys’ moods were drastically affected and the managers severely doubted their logic for delivering such a blow to them before the concert began. Their worry and concern did not go unnoticed, as Joonmyeon walked up to them with tears streaming down his face, and he placed both hands on his managers’ shoulders.

“Don’t worry, the concert will be fine. We’re fine.” And he turned to the rest of the boys. “We’re okay, right boys?”

A few of them nodded but Joonmyeon’s eyes narrowed at one particular member whose eyes weren’t red, whose face was not streaked with tears, whose hands were not comforting another, and whose heart was definitely not affected by the tragic news.

“I’m more than okay.” His svelte digits danced across his phone screen as his eyes focused on the game that he was playing. “The concert has to go on even though she’s dead.”

Minseok glanced at the boy, a disapproving look appearing on his face and he was about to head over to spitefully knock the phone out of his hands when Jongin wrapped a restraining arm around the older boy’s waist.

“Don’t, hyung. Don’t stir up trouble,” Jongin warned, his eyes miniscule from all the crying. “Leave him be.”

Minseok scowled, and he sat back down on his chair at the second youngest’s request. His eyes never left the boy, for deep down he detested ’s I-could-care-less response to the devastating news.

What a despicable being, and to think I’ve only realised that now.

“B-Baekhyun-hyung,” Kyungsoo approached him cautiously, another piece of paper that the manager handed to him clutched in his hand. “I think… you should care.”

“And why should I?” Baekhyun stared back at him, the iciness evident in his gaze. “It’s just one of the many fans we have here.”

The younger boy gripped the paper tighter as his hyung rolled his eyes dramatically before going back to his game. “Jus– Just take a look at this.”

He smoothed the paper out on his pants before holding it up in front of an annoyed boy who reluctantly lifted his head to look at the paper. The boy’s eyes widened and if they grew larger, his eyeballs would pop out.

“Well, my life.”

“I am the most unfortunate soul here.”

Baekhyun muttered sourly under his breath as Chanyeol pushed him from behind to enter a small yellow structure situated under the void deck of a building of housing flats. Metal poles held the structure up while yellow canvas were draped around, effectively shielding the girl’s final resting place. The boys had formed a single file, at the victim’s mother’s request, to be able to enter the small space within for the coffin had already occupied the bulk of it.

Minseok d behind for Luhan’s hand, as the latter gently slipped his hand into the eldest’s, and the former gingerl