Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I’m glad for that.

- Ally Condie -

When you've been in a boy band for five years, been training with the same people for longer, and spend more hours practicing dance moves than sleeping, you kind of lose track of where your life's headed.

When it hits Sunggyu, he nearly breaks down crying in the bathroom, which is really lame and stupid, so he stops himself and turns on the faucet to hide the sound of him controlling his breathing.

He's old - and not just by idol standards. It's extremely unnerving. His high school friends have serious jobs and committed relationships - hell, some of them are even married now. And old Kim Sunggyu is still the leader of possibly the only ridiculously-still-intact-after-five-years-except-Teen-Top-maybe-but-they-don't-count boy group in all of Asia.

It's amazing they haven't had any lineup changes or huge scandals - he'd like to believe as leader he played a part in that, but he mostly chalks it all up to good management and public relations teams, and luck. 

Because Infinite's still doing relatively well (for a relatively old group anyway) Sunggyu can't find an out to all of it. There are no ups big enough for him to leave. He knew what he was getting into when he signed the contract, and the company's done nothing but honor it so far, but he feels like it's too good to be true for this to be going on for so long. He thought at 25, he'd be in the army. Or at least at a real job. But he's still in Infinite, he's still winning awards, and he's still got legions of fans.

But when he breaks down (sorry, almost) in the bathroom, the sound of the running water masking his heavy breathing, it's because he feels like his life's going nowhere. He knows the ride down's not gonna be pretty. Sure, they're incredibly successful now, but as time passes, it won't be worth anything anymore. And Sunggyu can't bring himself to think of what awaits him once he does leave Infinite behind.

(Because he's safe from being heard and because the tears are literally about to fall, he lets himself cry.)

It's ten minutes later and only after he's washed his face and had some water when he returns to the practice room, the other six sitting on the floor, still on lunch break. He takes the spot between Woohyun and Sungyeol, avoiding their eyes.

"No, if I have a daughter I wouldn't let Myungsoo's kid anywhere near— Hey, Sunggyu-hyung, we were just talking about..." Sungjong starts, but cuts himself off once more. "Have you been crying?"

The five other pairs of eyes travel to their leader, and he wants to curse at himself for not using eyedrops. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sungyeol clears his throat.

"We were just talking about what to name all our children," he says quickly, lifting his hand and setting it on Sunggyu's shoulder. "And whose kids marry whose." Sunggyu gives him a small smile and Woohyun catches on.

He slings an arm around the eldest, squeezing comfortingly for a moment before speaking. "I just know I can't let my daughter be with Hoya's boy - he'd be too short." The main dancer wrinkles his nose and chucks a water bottle at him, more laughter erupting from the group.

Dongwoo kicks Woohyun gently and stretches his leg out to nudge Sunggyu with his toes. "Hey, we shouldn't be naming our kids yet. Gyuleader, can I be best man?" The room falls silent for a moment before exploding in shouts, six voices overlapping each other's.

Sunggyu watches the six kids he's watched grow up - and grow up with, practically - fight over who gets to be his best man at a wedding he doesn't see happening in the next few years, and imagines the seven of them, all decked out in tuxedos for each other's weddings and catching up after months of being away from each other. He imagines going out for drinks with all of them the day before he enlists, and going out again the day he gets released, and feeling as if the two years away were just a day. He imagines meeting with them every once in a while, sharing stories about the mundane lives they'd once only dreamed of living, and eventually live apart. He imagines Infinite's last performance, and smiling through the tears because they know that it's far from the end for them.

(Because he's always safe with these guys and because he doesn't care to stop the tears anymore, he lets himself cry again, but this time, he also smiles.)

The other members seem to understand, continuing their conversations albeit with softer, more compassionate smiles. They don't mention his tears or try to make him speak, only continue to tell stories of the lives they haven't lived yet, the life Sunggyu prays everyday to have.

(Right now, he wants to laugh and shake his head at that stupid existential crisis he'd been going through not fifteen minutes ago, but opts to laugh at the six boys he knew would be there for him no matter what.)

Yeah, right now, maybe his life's headed nowhere.

But Sunggyu would like to believe nowhere isn't so bad a place, so long as he had his brothers there with him.