“Yeah I’m already here.” Hyukjae utters, rolling his eyes as he listens to Kyuhyun rant out on the other line, his call coming just in time as Hyukjae is heading out of the lift.

“Look, I don’t really expect the dorm to be squeaky clean when you’re barely in there,” He cackles with yet another snarky remark from Kyuhyun. “And you’re moving out soon, right?”

There’s a pregnant pause that follows and Hyukjae bites his inner cheek. They have went through this already, have been talking about it ever since the enlistment date of the very first member to join the army has been announced. It has been a long time coming if they’re being honest, has been a long time since management has given them the permission to go live in their own. But members left and came back one by one and yet they still chose to stay, hanging on the previously ty, pathetic dorm rooms that once housed fifteen boys with big dreams. Has it been ten years really? Hyukjae is still in awe.

“I wanted to say something very dramatic about that but I wouldn’t because you have enough drama going on now.” Kyuhyun’s voice brings him back from his reverie, eliciting a cackle out of his lips.

“I don’t have drama going on in my life right now, thank you very much.” He utters back, fingers reaching to fix his fringe out of habit only to realize there’s no fringe to fix anymore. Hyukjae runs a hand on his freshly trimmed buzz cut, the selca he uploaded a few hours ago still causing a Twitter breakdown among his fans. Okay, maybe the farewell message he wrote accompanying it was a bit dramatic.

He hears Kyuhyun snort over the phone, bickering even more while telling him he’ll be going back late, so he better make sure he would lock everything properly. Hyukjae scoffs and says of course he will, ignoring the surge of nostalgia striking all of a sudden just as he stands before the 11th floor dorm.

Kyuhyun is then biding goodbye, reminding him he’ll be calling again tomorrow. He tells Hyukjae that he has to be sure he’ll pick up his phone, for he already decided to enlist quietly and privately, he should at least let Kyuhyun send him off even just through a phone call. Hyukjae cackles yet again and says yes, promising a specific minute for Kyuhyun while he keys in the dorm’s pass code.

“Everything’s going to be fine, hyung. It’s gonna be alright.” Kyuhyun says just as Hyukjae thinks he’s about to end the call.

Hyukjae halts as he opens the door, his sneakers scratching over the cold wooden tiles of his former home, his gaze landing on the once overflowing shoe rack that is now almost empty saved for a few pairs of Kyuhyun’s shoes. The noise that used to greet him when Ryeowook’s working in the kitchen and 12th floor’s occupants decided to crash in and asked for dinner now nothing but a memory. He lets a small, sad smile breaks through.  

“Yeah,” He whispers back, and though they both know Hyukjae isn’t being entirely truthful, Kyuhyun takes it and says goodbye.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, he and Kyuhyun have been living proper roommates in the last days they were together. Of course when they said they’re not being dramatic, they totally were, so on their free days they locked themselves inside their dorm, playing online games, ordering black-bean noodles in the middle of the night, drinking and cuddling their feelings out. Some days Heechul would join them, taking pictures of an unsuspecting Hyukjae and posting it with anecdotes from that day or recollections from years ago. He often got really sentimental after that. Hyukjae shakes his head at the thought.

The dorm looks empty. When you get used to corners filled with clothes, shelves of CDs, awards and fan gifts or walls littered with pictures and huge portraits, it will indeed look bland. Kyuhyun has been packing, Hyukjae’s aware of that. The usual clutter the boys of the 12th floor left for him to clean aren’t there anymore, even the kitchen utensils Ryeowook used for cooking. Suddenly it feels like there’s too much space, and Hyukjae shakes his head at the thought that their apartment may not be as small as they have complained before. Has it really been this wide and big? Or maybe it just looked tiny because it has been cramped with clothes, gifts and memories before? Of distant pitter-patters or deliberate stomping of feet, of angry yells or hushed whispers, of joyous laughter or teary outbursts. Of a group of young boys that were suddenly men.

Has it really been ten years?

He opens one of the cabinets near the kitchen and finds what he’s coming back for. It’s a couple of shirts he misplaced, had forgotten to pack up and was originally going with the stuff he’s bringing inside the camp. He rolls them up and tucks under his left arm, closing the cabinet gently and taking one last glance around the place.

Once Kyuhyun leaves it’ll be the end of it, a finality of an era, a chapter closed.

Hyukjae stops when his eyes fall on his room. He refuses to be sappy than he already is. He already had a night of reminiscing that one time the hyungs drag him out to drink. He’s not here to go down memory lane anyway, Jesus, he has been doing that for the past weeks, for the past few months! But his door is slightly open and there’s light coming out of it. Has Kyuhyun been using his room since he left?

Hyukjae is swiftly hit with the feeling that he should have known. He knows, knew even before he pushes his door faintly. No one comes in his room uninvited, uses his room even when he’s not there, treats it like it belongs to him and not Hyukjae’s. There’s no one.

But one.

Theatrics probably runs in the band, heck they’re all actors at some point. But if anyone is hailed to be drama queen, Lee Donghae takes the crown (no matter how Jungsoo or Heechul insist it’s theirs.)

Donghae’s currently curl up in a ball, lying in the empty bedroom with his back facing the door. He’s sniffing softly and Hyukjae isn’t sure if it’s just his always runny nose or that he is crying. He is browsing on his phone, his left arm folded and tucked under his head as his pillow.

“What are you doing?” Hyukjae asks, startling the life out of Donghae he is abruptly rummaging to get up, head swerving quickly over Hyukjae’s direction he might have break it. Hyukjae flinches at the thought, his reaction immediate.

“Christ, Donghae.” He mutters quite harshly, dropping everything on the floor and kneeling before the other man. He soon realizes that Donghae’s fine, evident with the way he’s gawking, looking like a deer caught in headlights and Hyukjae chuckles, face fond.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hyukjae asks, taking the spot beside the still gaping man, crossing his legs as he sits. Hyukjae watches as Donghae’s eyes stares back at him for a moment before gradually, as if timed with the ticking of the clock, Donghae is looking at his hair.

“You’ve cut your hair.” He whispers and Hyukjae is suddenly conscious, a hand automatically reaching for his head. He has a beanie with him but he left it in the car thinking he won’t be meeting anyone at this hour inside the building, nor he intended to stay longer anyway. He might have also hated how he looked sick wearing it but now he’s regretting his decisions and wishing he has the beanie on instead. Donghae’s sad expression tells him how bad it must have looked like.

“I know it looks awful...,” he starts coyly, trying to make a joke out of it while his hand unconsciously brushes over his head repeatedly, as if the act will magically cover it. Donghae remains staring.

“You cut it,” Donghae says again, his voice croaking a little and Hyukjae is quickly heedful that there is something else bothering the other. He straightens and reaches for Donghae’s knee, the urge to comfort every time Donghae is sad has always been a second nature, no matter how awkward his attempts appear to be.

“I-It’s not like you didn’t know I would. I mean,” Hyukjae his lips a tad nervously, patting Donghae’s knee, “I texted you before I got them chopped off, didn’t I?”

Donghae’s face crumples even more, burying his face in his hands and whimpering a pained ‘noooo.’ It’s Hyukjae’s turn to gape, blinking right back at Donghae and yet before he could ask what the hell is going on, Donghae’s looking back at him with such a sad, defeated face.

“I’m so stupid, Hyukjae.” He says, a tiny pout on his lips. He then presses those pink lips together, trembling as he gazes back at Hyukjae. Or more specifically, his hair. Hyukjae tries not to feel insecure.

“We could’ve done it together. Shave all the hair off and I don’t know, maybe make fun of each other.” Donghae whines the last few words, gripping a handful of the short hair he got for the repackage album. (He previously said he’ll cut them off on the 14th, so Hyukjae won’t see him.)

“And now I have all these hair and you’re bald.” Donghae continues to mop and Hyukjae actually takes it upon himself the right to be offended because Donghae may be grumbling right now because he’s upset, but Hyukjae isn’t bald.

“I’m not bald.” He voices out and Donghae glares at him. “I mean, it’s ca