It got pretty dreary by the middle, people singing covers of their songs and not doing them any justice, and others making outdated jokes that had to be met with exuberant laughter or at least polite smiling for the cameras. Kibum couldn't really blame Eunsook for drifting off at some point, with her silky long hair getting into her glass. It all was just... unnecessary.
That realization hit him – no, it slowly sled into his mind like a whale piercing the waters of the ocean with its lazy, cumbrous mass – while he watched Jinki climbing the stairs to the stage to demonstrate the famous ttakbam (bringing it up was unavoidable), bowing in his overly polite way and buttoning his jacket up with one hand at the same time, because he'd got too comfortable snoozing there by the table. Everything was unnecessary.
It's strange how existential thoughts come at the oddest moments. You suddenly fall out of everything, and it all – your past, your love, your fear, your traumas and your ghosts, the ugly and the beautiful ones – rushes into your head. It took him one hellishly long flight, one halfhearted shag with a waiter from the hotel restaurant, some fussing with the outfit and one tacky celebration of things long gone to finally admit to himself that he was lying to himself on a daily basis. He kept saying he had got his cream, and Eunsook, the kind soul, kept reminding him of his achievements, but perhaps, perhaps, that box of pills that he carried around, that empty bed on cold mornings, those long hours of talking bull to his extremely patient and very well-paid therapist meant that not all pieces were in place. He was not alright.
Jinki took his wedding ring off and put it in his pocket before hitting the MC's forehead with his legendary finger, just in case.
It was not alright that a beautiful girl who worked for him had to pretend to be his girlfriend.
It was not alright that he was lying to his family.
It was not alright that his inspiration was gone, and he had been rational and deliberate in his art, and was aware of it, and was restless about it despite being lauded and idolized as an unchangeably innovative genius of fashion.
He could see that Jinki didn't put all of his strength into that hit, but the guy grimaced and moaned anyway, for the show.
“Years go on, but that finger can still destroy skulls,” the MC panted into the microphone, smoothing his jacket.
It was not alright that he couldn't feel nostalgic about the things he knew he still loved deep inside.
It was not alright that the only thing he was looking forward to all day was getting disgustingly wasted.
It was not alright that he had a wife and two kids at home.
Jinki came closer to the microphone.
“You got Jink'd,” he said curtly, and there was laughter in his eyes as the camera captured him bowing to the sound of applause.

The show for the most part was only secondary, of course, because everyone came just to see the five of them perform again, today. Kibum waited for that one part, too – these were the people with whom he had spent his most tiring and brilliant years, after all. They were his friends, and they knew him well. Only they had seen and heard so much of each other in the past that there was no need to meet more often than, say, once in every seven years. They were busy living their actual lives now.
Kibum took a pill some time before they would go on stage. He needed it, because it put him in a wonderfully peaceful and submissive state where, even though he couldn't produce his own joy, he could absorb it from without, from other people's smiles and laughter. Agitation was still there, and Kibum still wanted to grab Jonghyun's hand and tell him that something was about to explode inside his body, but it became a languid and lukewarm feeling instead. He wanted to go and dance.

~

“I thought people actually grow up in the army,” Kibum said, looking at Jinki's face with tired eyes.
His friend had put pieces of sea weed on his teeth to make himself look like he was missing a few.
“They do,” the other argued, grinning. “Their arms get bigger.”
“How about the brain?” Kibum asked, reaching for the bag a fan had given Jinki outside the hotel.
“Ah, that old misconception that polishing your own boots and waking up at the -crack of dawn after sleeping in the same room with a bunch of guys can actually make you smarter... It's not true. I checked.”
Kibum chuckled. Inside the bag, he found a box with a note attached to it: ‘To our Tofu Leader Onew! ^^’ .
“What's that?” Jinki asked, ketchup off his fingers. Kibum couldn't eat anymore. He was full.
“A board game. Wanna play?”
“Sure.”
Kibum tore the plastic wrap off.
“What a relief that your fans still don't take you seriously.”
“Yeah, thanks to them I never run out of puzzle games and plushy pineapples,” Jinki agreed. “Oh, and giraffes. Although I have no idea wherever the hell that came from.”
“You said you'd fallen in love with a giraffe, don't you remember?”
Jinki frowned, browsing through his memories.
“Woah. I said all kinds of crap, didn't I?”
“You still do,” Kibum assured him. And Jinki was too much in touch with his own personality to argue with that.

~

Kibum made a mistake during the performance. It was a tiny one, just one little wrong move that Taemin successfully covered up, and surely nobody in the audience had a chance to notice it amidst all the visual and sonic perfection that they were still able to create. “Why are not they a thing anymore, again?” – this thought visited everyone's mind, including those in question, even if for a second.
Kibum was disappointed with himself, however. The others knew. Jinki put his arm around him as they were leaving the stage.
“You were perfect,” he whispered in Kibum's ear.
Maybe it was the heartfelt simplicity in his voice, or the warmth of his breath against Kibum's skin, or a sudden wish to reminisce their greatest moments, but, to Kibum, those three words sounded like a conclusion, a summary of everything that had happened with them over the years.
“We all were,” he replied, patting his back. Jonghyun, who was walking on the other side, rubbed Kibum's neck reassuringly.
“I can't wait to eat,” Taemin said from behind.

“Feeling lonely?” Taemin asked, making Eunsook jump up. She was putting chicken fillet onto her plate.
“Holy cow, you scared me…” the girl answered, putting a hand to her chest. “How can you be lonely with all that chicken around.”
Taemin smiled.
“But can it satisfy your hunger in full?”
“No. That's why I'll go get some potatoes and shrimps.”
“What if even those are not enough? Suppose you've eaten them all, but your body still craves something?”
Eunsook walked over to the salad bar, and the man followed her, his own plate loaded with salmon sushis.
“Are you kidding me? There are salads, and rolls, and buns...”
“I wouldn't mind having some of those right now.”
“…and udon, and creamy mushroom soup – they're all mine to take. Not to mention the dessert…” She froze, salad spoon in hand. “Oh, you were making ual innuendos there, I get it now.”
Taemin chuckled.
“Yeah, I was getting a bit worried.”
Eunsook shrugged.
“Sorry. I take my food seriously.”
“Tell me when you get to the dessert, though. I might be able to suggest a specialty.”
His face was completely straight, and it was hard for the girl not to burst into laughter. Nevertheless, she was intrigued.
“See you later, then,” she said, turning to go away.
Maybe it was better to be here right now rather than at home in her plush pajamas.
“Didn't know you had it in you, Lee Taemin,” Jonghyun commented, one eyebrow raised behind his – real – eyeglasses.
“What are you talking about?” Taemin asked with clueless sincerity.
Jonghyun just waved him away.

“So when is your movie coming out?” Kibum asked, cutting his fish steak.
“After we actually shoot it, I hope,” Minho said with a bitter laugh.
“Do you have doubts?”
“People don't hurry to invest into independent movies.”
“Why didn't you stick to playing brooding rich boys?”
“Why didn't you stick to making rings from beer caps?”
Kibum thought a bit, chewing.
“Well, I'm not that fond of beer,” he answered, reaching for his wine.
“What about you? Are you sure you're done making movies?” Minho asked, turning to Jinki.
“For now, yes. I reached a point where I got tired of playing the same dorky secondary characters over and over.”
“What's tiring about being paid to be yourself on camera?”
“I'd rather be myself on the couch,” Jinki replied, and the other two laughed. “Anyways, one director said I don't have the face or the presence of a main character.”
Minho said nothing. To him, it probably made sense.
“Rubbish,” Kibum said firmly. “So, what are you doing now?”
“I'm just...” Jinki rubbed his temple, studying his plate. “…hanging around,” he answered with a shrug.
Minho nodded.
“Happy?”
Jinki smiled.
“Sure. I have everything I wanted, right?”

~

They finished the board game. Jinki won because he was good at those and Kibum didn't care. There was nothing to watch on TV and they were tired, but none of them made a budge to get up from the floor and go to bed. They were both feeling warm and sleepy, and didn't want to get out of that pleasant state. Kibum had had too much soju, he knew. He was trying to convince himself that he was more sober than he actually was.
“What shall we do now?”
“Mmm...” Kibum blinked slowly. “Let's play ‘honesty’.”
“How's that?”
Jinki looked alright, although his voice did get a bit louder when he had some alcohol.
“Well... You just take turns and say what you honestly feel, or think, or want.”
“Isn't it like a normal conversation?”
“No...” Kibum shook his head slowly. “You need to be short and precise.”
“And what do you achieve?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
Pause.
“Okay, let's play,” Jinki agreed, as there was nothing else to do. “I'll start... I'm still hungry.”
Kibum shook his index finger in the air.
“Nooo, not like that. It needs to be something I didn't know.”
“Oh, really? Then...” Jinki thought a bit. “I hated our last album.”
Kibum snickered.
“I'm tired of touring,” he retaliated.
“I think SM .”
“Well, everyone knows it.”
Jinki clapped.
“I'll say something else, then...” he tapped his finger with his chin. “I haven't had for three weeks.”
“I haven't had for twelve hours.”
Jinki raised his eyebrows.
“Really?”
Kibum nodded, lying down on the floor. Despite being drunk, he felt embarrassed.
“With whom? Where?”
“You don't wanna know.”
“Aren't we playing ‘honesty’ right now? Spill it!”
Kibum giggled nervously.
“Well, he works with us... And he's cute.”
“But twelve hours mean it was… this morning?!”
Kibum nodded.
“But weren't we working?!”
“We were,” he answered in a strained voice, and they both burst into laughter.
“Your turn now.”
“I watched today.”
“When?”
Jinki pursed his lips, trying to remember.
“About five hours ago? And a half?”
“But weren't we working?!”
“We were.”
That put them both into hysterics. There were tears in their eyes when they were able to speak again.
The game was light-hearted at first, with Kibum confessing that he had wanted to kick Minho in the face during the rehearsal earlier that day, and Jinki telling him that he hated it when people had pieces of food stuck between their teeth because he didn't feel comfortable telling them about it. But then the mood gradually shifted towards melancholy and gloominess, as it always does when you drink too much in the company of a person who knows you well.
They were both lying on the floor. All of the lights were out, except for the yellowish glow of the artificial fireplace shimmering softly in the dark.
“I used to cut myself,” Kibum said in a coarse whisper.
“I did it too. Once.”
“Sometimes I wish nobody knew my name.”
“Sometimes I wish I didn't exist.”
Kibum found Jinki's hand in the dark and took it in his own, locking their fingers together.
“I want something I can't have,” he said even quieter than before.
He could feel the tiny drops of sweat on his forehead. The room was too hot. “It's been a while since I wanted anything at all,” Jinki whispered in response.
Kibum swallowed the lump in his throat and his lips.
“I want...” Despite being drunk enough to say something stupid, he faltered.
“What?”
Jinki's hushed voice, gentle, velvet, sounded like a lullaby.
“I want to touch your face.”
Silence.
“Touch my face?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Kibum took a deep breath.
“I want to trace my finger along your jawline and brush your cheek softly.”
“But... why?”
“No reason. I just want to.”
Another tormenting pause.
“Then, do.”
Kibum opened his eyes and turned his head to look at his friend. Jinki didn't have the looks of a lover. It was too humorous, his face. Yet he was beautiful. Sweet. Desirable.
He reached out to fulfill his wish – touched his face lightly, slowly. Jinki's skin was both soft and rough in a manly way. Kibum had always thought he had a most alluring jawline.
He put his hand away. They were staring at each other – Kibum propping himself on an elbow and Jinki lying on his back, one hand put beneath his head for comfort.
Kibum leaned closer and said:
“I want you.”
Jinki gulped, and Kibum's eyes shifted to his neck and back to his face – his mouth, to be precise.
“Isn't it my turn?” Jinki asked, sounding broken.
The other nodded.
“Go on.”
Rashly, Jinki grabbed his friend's neck with his free hand and pulled him in for a kiss. It had no potential to get them anywhere, or even to last. Jinki had no idea what he was doing. Aware of that, Kibum let his hand rest on his friend's chest and dived into that hopeless, brilliant moment with his whole being. Their noses got in the way and he craned his neck. In a moment, Jinki was no longer leading the kiss. He made a noise against Kibum's lips, a breath with just a little sound in it. Was he protesting? Sorry? Enjoying it? His hand was still pressing the other down, and Kibum kissed him again. Surely he didn't use any tongue, letting his lips alone speak his feelings.
Jinki's phone vibrated ferociously on the table, and it was over.
“I... I didn't mean to... I just...” Jinki stammered, but Kibum saved him from having to make any more explanations by saying:
“I know you're not gay. Calm down.”
He lay down again, giving a sigh.
“Bummie, it's not that...”
“Just pick up.”
Kibum didn't sound mad. He didn't feel mad.
The phone was still ringing, but Jinki didn't move. His thoughts were wandering elsewhere, too.

~

Jinki left the banquet hall and went to the back staircase leading onto the roof. He needed a breath of fresh air and maybe a moment alone. He tapped the screen of his phone to call the number he had on speed dial and waited. A woman's voice answered.
“Luna, hi,” Jinki greeted her somewhat hesitantly.
“Why are you calling? Aren't you busy?” the woman asked impassively.
He started walking along the edge of the roof slowly.
“No, I just wanted to ask how you're doing.”
“I'm doing fine as usual.”
“What- what did you do today?”
“Stuff.”
“Stuff?” Jinki rubbed the back of his head, looking at the lights below. “Could you be more precise?”
The woman sighed.
“Jinki, please.”
He screwed his eyes shut like he was in pain.
“Luna, I just want to talk... normally.”
“I didn't do anything interesting. It's you who's having a life out there, so you talk.”
Pause.
“Well... the reunion thing is today. We... we performed together and now there's a banquet, so...”
“Having fun?”
“Sure.”
He heard a noise in the phone and wanted to ask about it, but Luna was the first to speak:
“Jinki, I'm kind of busy. Is there anything else you wanna say?”
“Can I talk to Soojin for a minute?” he asked quickly.
“It's her bedtime.”
“Please?”
“Uh... I'll call her.”
It was getting chilly up there, and Jinki began pacing again.
“Hello? Daddy, is that you?” a little girl's voice spoke.
He smiled.
“Yes, it's daddy. How has my baby whale been?”
“Good! I have a plaster on my head!” Soojin cried proudly.
“A plaster? What happened?” Jinki asked, concerned.
“I wanted to take a book from the shelf, and I pulled it, but all the other books tumbled on me.”
“Ah, that won't do. You should be careful.”
“But daddy is never careful.”
“Daddy is stupid.”
“Then I'll be stupid too.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanna be like my daddy.”
Jinki laughed.
“No, you don't.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Nope.”
“Yep!!! Did you meet the pretty uncles today?”
“Yes, I did. We danced and sang songs together. And then we went to a place with lots of food in it and stuffed our tummies full.”
“Cool! Was there a big big beef steak? ”
“There was. And daddy ate it.”
“And a big big fish?”
“Yes, daddy took a piece of it.”
“And many many cola?”
“No, but there were many many grownup drinks.”
“Ew.”
“I agree. How is your little brother doing?”
“He bothers me and pulls my hair.”
“That's not a good thing to do at all. What does your mom say?”
“I don't talk to her about Kibum. I can handle him myself.”
“‘Handle’ him?” Jinki asked, surprised. “Where did you get that from?”
“From my head,” Soo replied like it was an obvious thing.
“And how did it get into your head?”
“From TV.”
“I see. Well, you're quite a big girl now, and I trust your judgement.”
“What's ‘judgement’?”
“What you decide to do.”
“Daddy,” Soo said quietly.
“Hm?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too, my love.”
“When will you come to see me, then?” Soo's voice trembled. She was already crying.
“I don't know yet, honey… Everything is… difficult...”
“When?”
“Soo, I... Soon.”
“When is soon?”
“In... in a few weeks or...” Soo's sobbing became louder, making her father's heart ache. “Ah, screw that. I'll come next weekend.”
“Hurray!!!”
“Don't tell your mom I said, ‘screw that’,” Jinki added quickly.
And Soojin was already making plans:
“When daddy comes, we'll go to Neverland, and the movies, and the swimming pool, and the planetarium, and we'll sing together, and eat lots of ice-cream!”
Jinki laughed.
“I'll try my best. But I think it's time for you to sleep now, baby whale.”
As always, Soo ignored him.
“Daddy... When mommy was with her friends, she said strange things about you. I didn't understand them at all...”
Jinki sighed.
“Eavesdropping is a bad thing, Soo.”
“I did no eardropping, they were talking too loud.”
“When you grow up... you'll understand. Maybe.”
“I don't wanna grow up. All grownups do is tell lies and cry.”
“TV again?”
“Daddy, can you sing me a song before you go?”
Her voice sounded cheerful now, and although Jinki was feeling sad, embarrassed and a bit annoyed with her mother, its very sound seemed to melt the darkness away.
“Okay. Which song would you like?”
“I like... I like ‘The Bread Song’, and ‘The Fridge Song’, and ‘The Dried Squid Song’, and... and...”
“No, no, you'll have to choose only one.”
Soo thought for a few seconds.
“Then, ‘The Bread Song’, because I ate a toast today!”
Jinki chuckled.
“Alright, then...” He cleared his throat and looked around just in case. “But you'll have to sing along.”
“Okay!”
“Ready? One-two-three!”
And he started singing in a low voice, with the noise of the cars passing below as an accompaniment: “A crunchy crunchy bread got roasted, Today I'm the chef in our family, A crunchy crunchy bread got roasted, I put some jam on it.”
Soo clapped her hands delightedly.
“Daddy must say goodbye now. See you Soo.”
“I'll be waiting for dad,” she replied, and they both laughed.
They said their goodbyes, and a longing, bittersweet feeling enveloped Jinki's heart. What a miracle it is – to be loved, unconditionally, by a warm and generous tiny heart.
“You're a crappy husband,” a voice said, and he turned around, caught by surprise.
Kibum, perfect and small-faced, just as usual, must have just stepped onto the roof. He was holding something shiny between his fingers. A wedding ring.
“Found this on the floor.”
Jinki looked at his own hand, then checked his pockets. Empty.
“Oh, I must have dropped it. Thank you.”
Kibum stepped closer, but, instead of returning the ring to its owner, he took his hand and slipped the ring onto his finger himself.
“Like a groom,” Jinki said with a smile.
“Yeah.”
“Hope your girlfriend doesn't mind.”
“She isn't my girlfriend,” Kibum argued, his face unreadable.
“She isn't?”
He shook his head.
“Women are not my field.”
“I thought you enjoyed variety.”
Kibum's eyes shifted to the floor. Even though he was having a struggle in his mind, he looked quite calm. Only his eyes were sad.
“No. I was lying to myself.”
“It takes courage to stop doing so.”
“Isn't it strange that you need to be brave to be yourself in the modern world?”
“Yeah...”
“I... I'll go back in, I guess,” Kibum said, watching the other take a pack of cigarettes out of his trousers' pocket.
“Can't you stay?”
“No. I'm too drunk.”
Jinki, with a cigarette between his lips, was feeling up and down his jacket in search for a lighter. He found it in his pocket.
“So what? I'm not sober either.”
“I'd better go. Trust me.”
“Oh... okay,” Jinki replied, disappointed. He didn't want to be alone.
“You should give that up, you know,” Kibum said as he walked away, without turning around. “Time to think of your health.”
“Yes, yes...”
And the silence came again. Jinki gave a sigh, leaving a cloud of smoke in the air.