Behind closed lids Mingyu swims in a diluted yellow void. Arms, that he doesn't remember surrounding him, twitch and fingers dig into the waist of his skin but he doesn't dare look—not yet. Opening his eyes would mean that the day would start but the song birds mock that the day is already happening, whether Mingyu gets up or not. Still, if he can extract just a few more moments of silence he'll be over the moon, er, sun in this case. Things don't work out in Mingyu's favour; however, because of course it doesn't. When does it ever? The arms become too tight and Mingyu has to wiggle out of his bed companion's grasp. It isn't butterfly gracefulness when they emerge from a cocoon—legs and arms shoving—in Mingyu's defense though it's still early. A muffled, and rather nettled, voice groggy from sleep greets Mingyu's ears. “Hyung,” Mingyu huffs as he rubs his eyes, “what are you doing in my bed?” Really, Mingyu feels like he should be more annoyed with waking up with someone stealing half of the blankets but it's such a common occurrence for members to get too close with literally anything that he doesn't even bat an eye. Jeonghan, on the other hands, flutters his eyes a plenty as he sits up.

The bob-haired male yawns, picking his arms high above his head as his blue shirt rides to reveal a sliver of pale stomach. Mingyu snaps his eyes away from the exposure back to the singer's face as the brunette starts to talk.

“Well,” Jeonghan starts with a small voice, saturnine eyes searching the rapper's face as if the answer was written on Mingyu's skin. “You were moving around so much last night and talking I could barely get any sleep,” Jeonghan runs a hand through his bird's nest of hair before continuing, “I knew you liked to move around a lot, but it was like you were getting murdered or something, sheesh.”

A pregnant pause stretches on but it seems like Jeonghan catches his mistake too late; Mingyu clambers off of the bed with a sour expression. “Something like that,” the younger comments more to himself than the now alert man, rifling through his suitcase as he picks out his outfit for the day. Before the brunette can get to his boxers (thank god they got enough time to bring more than one) the door swings open to reveal a ray of sunshine. Seokmin looks at the two with an eerie happiness that could only be caused by some black magic. Seriously, who looks that giddy in the morning? Mingyu squints. “What is it, Seokmin-hyung?”

Seokmin, Mingyu swears, actually chirps, “Manager-hyung and Coups-hyung wants everyone to meet in there room.”

Jeonghan flops backwards onto the bed and Mingyu grouses. Seokmin, with his blinding smile, just goes into a different room to leave the duo to wallow in their morning grumpiness. Whatever Seokmin takes in the morning, Mingyu needs some of it.

After much complaining—threatening on Mingyu's part to make Jeonghan go—the duo squeeze themselves into the over-crowded room. The members' awake state ranges from dead, Jeonghan, to redbull-mixed-with-coffee, Seokmin, and everything in between. Like the responsible adults they are, the two managers are already dressed and well presented.

“What are we doing today,” Seungkwan shouts over the taller members.

“We decided that today will be a free day, no one is allowed to stay here and sleep in.” A chorus of groans. “And, you will have to all split into your unit groups.” At this the real complaints come in, mostly from Minghao and Mingyu because they both know what that means and dammit, it's too early for this! Seungcheol, who was nodding along with the plan, looks at the manager with an offended face.

“Do you think that's a, you know, good idea,” he questions cautiously.

The manager looks over to the maknae line, the three having shoved their way through the tall hyungs and grouped together with a nervous energy surrounding them. “It was actually Chan who had suggested it,” the manager quips breezily, “if you guys have issues bring it up with them, but I think it's a good way to split up. The best way to fix something is to take a look at the smaller parts.”

Mingyu side-eyes the maknae line who seem to be a little too happy, sweeping his gaze over to Wonwoo and Jun, both in their shared world, and finally to Minghao who looks fifty kinds of annoyed. Not as pissed off as Jihoon though, who seems to want to argue but Seungcheol gives the shorter man a knowing gaze. Mingyu hates it when adults are right. “Oh, I hear there are really good strawberries here,” Seokmin shouts and soon the Vocal Unit is lost in murmurs of ideas on where to go. Jeonghan, who looks less like a zombie but not quite, just mumbles out agreements, using Jisoo's shoulder as a head rest. One-by-one the singers bleed out into the hallway, the managers next, but before the eldest manager can leave he places a firm hand on Mingyu's shoulder. “Take it easy, Mingyu,” he whispers, fingers squeezing lightly before he calls from over the shoulder, “make sure you kids eat!” With the other two units left, eight bodies shifting haphazardly, Mingyu prays that he'll make it through the day.

Chan looks nervously between Minghao and Jun. The China-line hasn't been too comfortable recently. With everything going on, Mingyu hasn't really paid attention, but now that he's looking, really looking, at the two, everything seems...off. Jun, usually put-together and confident, stares at his shoes while Minghao pins him with an inhospitable gaze. Now that he thinks about it, Minghao's changed ever since he woke up not remembering Wonwoo.

Well, this is—

“Awkwaaaard,” Hansol drags the word out as he rocks on the heels of his feet. “I vote we go to this private garden.”

“Garden,” Wonwoo and Mingyu synchoronize. Immediately, the two tallest stare across the rest of the members; electricity fills the room.

Hansol coughs bringing everyone's attention back to him, “Yeah, I did some research last night and it looks pretty cool! They're called a sa-saswae...won...?

“Saswaewon,” Seungcheol repeats correctly.

“Yeah, that.”

“That sounds cool,” Chan says eagerly, “can we look around town? I've never been to Damyang before,” the maknae finishes with an eager grin. And, really, how can one say no to a face like that? Soonyoung sighs as he glances to the other half of the Performance Unit, his cat eyes flashing before he turns back to Chan.

“Sounds like a plan,” Soonyoung chirps (oh, that must be where Seokmin gets it) as he ruffles the smaller boy's hair.

As the two units finally exit from the room, Mingyu stays near the back, letting Minghao mesh their fingers together, tying and untying.

I'm somewhere, you're somewhere

Unlike Seoul, one could walk the streets at nine in the morning without having to constantly apologize to people as you run into them. There's enough room on the street for the Performance Unit to walk freely and at their pace. Minghao shakes his head, dragging a hand over his weary face, as he forces himself to smile when he meets Chan's inquisitive gaze. The teenager's steps falter for a moment but Chan continues to bounce around them, prattling off all the possibilities. Right now; however, the main focus is on food. “I hear Damyang is known for it's bamboo forests,” Jun speaks up for the first time since leaving the homey inn.

Soonyoug and Chan hold their breaths, eyes trained on Minghao's back, but as the dancer just gives a small grunt of acknowledgment in response, the two deflate.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Soonyoung offers, filling in the silence, as he remembers the tall bamboo stalks that they passed on their drive over to here.

Chan seems to have other plans though, as he walks into a small a small corner-store that's seen better days. “Chan, don't just go on your own,” Jun chastises as the three adults enter after the teenager. The store is just as unassuming inside as it is outside. There are shiny trinkets in the display window, wooden ones lining shelves along with vintage looking records and plushies on shelves. Minghao wanders between the short isles, picking up random objects. There's a shiny kitchen utensil set that reminds him of Mingyu, or what would have because ever since Mingyu's amnesia he hasn't cooked. He sets the set down and taps gently at a glass vase. A light coat of dusts settles into the ridges of Minghao's fingerprint as he swipes a digit over the cold glass. It's not remarkable, rather old-fashioned if here were being honest—something he would see in his grandmother's living room. Faded flower petals sweep the lip, pinks and reds dotting the top part, but the bottom holds longer flowers. Green stalks sprout from the base, growing in a spiral pattern as bright white petals bloom around thin stalks from the center.

“Lilies,” a voice comments from behind, a voice that Minghao bristles at immediately. His arm falls back to his side and he steps to the left, letting his gaze linger on whatever object happens to be in his field of vision.

“Minghao,” Jun heaves, “I don't understand why you're acting like this, can't you at least act like everything's alright.”

“Sorry hyung,” Minghao grits out, “not everyone can be such a great as an actor as you,” the brunette finishes mockingly. Fully intending to leave the conversation at that, Minghao spins around and glares as Jun catches his bony wrist; a Chinese stand-off. Jun's sudden flare of anger wilts. He loosens his grip on the younger's wrist but it's not enough for Minghao to break free from.

“What did I do,” Jun whispers in Mandarin, the words coming out more desperate and rushed than they would have in Korean. It's weird, Minghao thinks, how languages change speaking patterns and even thought patterns. Jun told him that, long ago when he was still learning Korean, but that was then and this was now. Minghao stares at the floor, and as if the elder could sense the dancer's sudden docile shift, he lets the shorter boy's wrist go.

Minghao shakes his head, “You're hurting Mingyu,” he finally whispers.

Jun's brows furrow, “Mingyu? What do you...is it only Mingyu you care about? Wonwoo's hurting too.”

“But Wonwoo caused it,” Minghao hisses with slitted eyes.

“Wonwoo never meant to hurt Mingyu,” Jun retorts with equal and measured fury. “Is Mingyu all you can think about? We're a team, Minghao, we all want to help Mingyu but keeping up such a hostile air will do nothing for him.” The two stare at each other, one pair of eyes pleading for things of the past and another that sees nothing but a present filled with do-or-die.

“He's my best friend.”

“He's not the only member.”

“I'd do anything for him.”

“What about us?”

Us? Minghao snaps his head up but before he can formulate an answer Soonyoung's voice interrupts their secluded silence.

“Guys, is everything okay? Chan's ready to leave, unless you guys need some time,” the unit leader raises the last syllabels along with a quirk of his eyebrow. Minghao shakes his head, turning away from Jun's steady gaze as he plasters the man with a small smile. The tension in Soonyoung's shoulders leave as he grins back, settling his gaze on Jun.

“Good talk...?”

Lie. That's Jun's first instinct and he knows that it's always good to follow your gut.

“Yeah. Is the maknae finally hungry? Let's get something to eat.” And with that Jun walks out of the store, not looking back as he hears the small scuffs of shoes against pavement behind him.

They end up asking some locals what the best place to grab breakfast (well, brunch) would be and they enter a tea house. The place is busy but not busy enough that they have to wait long for a table, after five minutes a table large enough opens up and they place their orders.

“Is that bamboo in the tea,” Chan questions with a tilt of his head.

Smiling, Jun stirs the chopped bamboo shoot, but it's short lived as he accidentally meets Minghao's unreadable gaze.

“Well, how is it?”

Jun's gaze lingers on Minghao. He the residual drops of liquid from his lips whispering, “Bitter...”

I'm nowhere, you're nowhere

“You took us to a temple,” Jeonghan starts, “on top of a hike, it's like you want to kill me.” Upon the death stares Jeonghan shoots Jisoo, the latter laughs nervously.

“Well, if we're here we might as well pray,” Seungkwan comments as he puts a coin into the well as an offering. The members stay quiet as they watch on, but Jisoo doesn't miss the way Jihoon turns and stares blankly at the town below. The higher altitude makes causes the shortest to shake, but knowing Jihoon the brunette would rather get hypothermia than ask for someone to lend him a jacket.

The temple isn't very large, probably the most ancient thing in Damyang, but it doesn't look like it's in shambles. The shingles are a deep, brick red with stone walls and fairly new looking sliding doors. Jisoo turns away from the members to join Jihoon near the edge of the steeple. Silence engulfs the both of them, neither eager to start a conversation, but it isn't necessarily uncomfortable. Small snippets of chatter from families slip in and out of the singer's mind. Being with Jihoon is like being in a cage with sharks surrounding you, there's a protective barrier but metal bars can only do so much, but Jihoon isn't a shark and Jisoo feels a bit ashamed of still being so tense around the shorter man. “Why aren't you over there with them,” Jihoon finally breaks the silence but still doesn't look Jisoo in the eyes.

“Just...wanted to make sure you're doing okay. I know the whole issue with Mingyu is taking a toll on everyone,” Jisoo speaks softly like everything else he does. “I've noticed some hostility between you and Wonwoo though...”

At this Jihoon scoffs, “Yeah, everyone and their mother have noticed, hyung.” Folding his arms, Jihoon looks up at the cloud-free sky.

“We're a team, Jihoon.”

“I know.”

Jisoo sighs because it seems that no, Jihoon doesn't really know, doesn't really understand the point he's trying to get to here. “If there's something bugging you, you need to tell us. You know that, right?”

Again, the same response.

“I know.”

Jisoo, knowing when to give up, sighs and looks to stare at the rest of the Vocal Unit with their heads all bowed. He wonders what they're praying for, probably for everyone to stay healthy and that their next promotions will do well; all nice things. Pursing his lips into a thin line, Jisoo lets his eyes fall shut and exhales slowly. Whether the issue with Mingyu and Wonwoo requires divine assistance is anyone's guess, but it never hurts to pray, to call upon The Father, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, for help.

A soft breeze fans across Jisoo's face. He smiles.

You're somewhere, you're somewhere

This is a train-wreck, Seungcheol thinks as he looks at the large space left between Wonwoo and Mingyu. It's not like he expected the duo to walk hand-in-hand like they used to, but it's as if they were no better than strangers. And, really, that's what Wonwoo is to Mingyu at this point. Just strangers. Even if the members want to tell Mingyu about all the things he's done with Wonwoo—good and bad—they can't unless they want to deal with an unconscious rapper. The stark indifference between the two is juxtaposed next to the beauty and warmth surrounding them that even though there's nothing remarkable about the rappers (excluding Mingyu's height) they still manage to stand out. Everywhere the four of them went, no matter the garden path, families and couples infiltrated their sight.

“Let's stop guys,” Seungcheol comments. He hopes the Soonyoung is dealing better with Minghao because he didn't miss the way the younger boy's face hardened when it was announced they'd group into their units. Heat from the stone bench seeps through denim, warming the leader's skin, as he lets out a small yawn.

When did everything start to become so easy to break, brittle? How did these hairline fractures form? Was this before or after Mingyu's accident? The sun soaks Seungcheol's face as if the universe hears him and is trying to comfort his ache, but it does nothing. When bones have fractures they grow back stronger, but sometimes the bone grows back wrong—sets wrong. And as the leader Seungcheol is supposed to be the cast to make sure everything ends okay but doubts swim in his head. A divide is there, a barrier that lives in Mingyu's mind and to some extent Wonwoo's as well. It's all-encompassing.

It reminds Seungcheol of a cocoon, because shells are meant to protect what's inside but if the creature never emerges it stands to reason that it will die.

Mingyu's burning up and Wonwoo's burning out. The wick doesn't have much time left, pressuring Seungcheol to find a solution before the flame goes out.

“Do you have to flinch every time I come near you?”

Seungcheol lifts his head up as he hears the low grumble of Wonwoo's voice. The two stand at the opposite side of the path with a terrified looking Hansol close-by. The leader's eyes meet the frenzied gaze of the younger and with four long strides, Seungcheol places a hand on either of the bickering members' chest.

“What's going on, I leave you alone for a few seconds and you get into an argument,” he whispers sharply, “you're attracting attention.”

Wonwoo backs away first, “I'm tired of Mingyu treating me like this.” For once, instead of sadness permeating the deep-voice, it's anger that oozes out, “I've been trying to give you space, I've been nice, I don't understand why you won't give me a chance,” Wonwoo tirades, “can't you see that you're, you're hurting everyone too...”

“Wonwoo-hyung,” Hansol shouts as he takes Mingyu by the hand and yanks the giant back, “that's too far!”

Clenching his jaw, Wonwoo's head drops as his vision starts to swim. The stares that greet him when he looks up are no better. Pity paints Seungcheol's face, and Hansol regards him as some sort of haenious villain and maybe he is. “I—I have to go,” Wonwoo mumbles as he walks pass the group. Seungcheol's muscles tighten but he isn't sure where to release the energy. He needs to go after Wonwoo, he wants to go after Wonwoo, but his feet seem to be in a committed relationship to the spot he's currently standing in.

“Hyung,” Hansol's voice brings Seungcheol out of his reverie, “it's okay.” Mingyu's head drops, fringe falling in a way that casts a shadow against the tan boy's face, masking his eyes. Looking back out to the path, Seungcheol watches as Wonwoo's form slowly disappears from his sight.

This went about as well as he had expected.

I could go there but I don't

There's no merry banter during dinner, in fact a third of the members immediately retreat back to their rooms without so much as greeting the rest. Disappointment sits heavily on both the manager and assistant manager's faces but neither men ask questions. At least directly. Wonwoo knows, well, has an inkling, that Seungcheol updates the manager on what happens around the dorm, the subject most likely being Mingyu these days. Stars dot the sky as Wonwoo reflects on the very long day he's had. As a kid he used to make wishes on the first one he saw, but when he stares out the open window all he can think about is how messed up everything's gotten and even if wishing did work he wouldn't know where to begin. Maybe the beginning back when they were trainees, maybe to when he started to lose Mingyu, maybe back to late afternoon when he practically admitted to the younger that he was causing everyone pain.

Overthinking has always been a problem though, and only sweet slumber takes over once Wonwoo's thoroughly exhausted with all the bleak thoughts entering and exiting his mind like a well-oiled machine. His subconscious self sits in an empty void, floating along the darkness silently. No one's there, not the members, not his family; a dreamless sleep.

When Wonwoo's eyes open slowly again, he's disappointed to see that it's still dark outside and that the moon's shining even brighter than when he went to bed. Squinting at the unwanted light, he clumsily makes it to the window and is about to shut the curtains but what he spots outside makes his blood run cold. There, near the entrance of the inn, is a curled figure that appears to be asleep. The image is surreal and unsettling, but as Wonwoo peers closer, blinking more as if it would make the figure go away, a tingling sensation lights up his brain. Something tells him he knows who it is and that just makes it worse.

He runs into Jeonghan and Mingyu's room, earning a very pissed off groan from Jeonghan, but when his eyes land on an empty bed, Wonwoo curses.

“, hyung, Mingyu's outside.”
 

“W-wha,” Jeonghan sits up but Wonwoo's already gone.

“Manager-hyung,” light bursts into the room, “Mingyu's outside! He fainted.”

Suddenly the managers flying out the door with Seungcheol right behind him. Soon, all the rooms down the hall become illuminated as members spill into the space, eyes bleary and faces questioning. Leaning against the wall, Wonwoo quietly bangs his head, not bothering to acknowledge the member that walks up to him. “Wonwoo,” Jun's voice says gently, placing a hand on the younger's shoulder, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm perfectly fine, I just saw my best-friend lying unconscious on the grass and it's probably because I yelled at him.”

Unable to look Jun straight in the eye, Wonwoo misses the sad smile that passes over the Chinese man's sleepy face. Wonwoo relaxes minutely under the blonde's touch, but he hears the chatter of the other members and can't help but think that they're all probably blaming him for Mingyu's fainting episode. Hansol already hates him now, so it would make sense for the rest of the memebrs too.

“Stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking. I know Mingyu acts like a child but trust me, he can take care of himself. Why won't you worry about you for once...?”

The question lingers in the air and leaves a bad taste in Wonwoo's mouth. It's reminiscient of luke-warm coffee drank right after brushing your teeth. The two stand in silence until the manager comes back with an unconscious Mingyu dangling in his arms. In any other circumstance it would be comical seeing their much shorter manager carrying the tallest member bridal-style, Mingyu's limbs dangling off, but there's a conflicted look on the rapper's face and the manager doesn't seem any better.

“Alright guys, don't crowd around him.” Seungcheol shoos away the members as they try and gather around Mingyu's bed.

“What happened,” Chan questions with wide eyes.

“We don't know. He was just laying there holding one of those flowers,” the assistant manger comments. “Alright kids, go back to bed, we have a long day tomorrow.” That feels like the understatement of the century but everyone quietly concedes. Leaving the door slightly ajar, Jeonghan carefully sits on the edge of Mingyu's bed, gently fixing the brunette's messy hair as he picks out small blades of grass.

“Hmm, hyung,” Mingyu drawls tiredly, seeming to phase in and out of consciousness.

Jeonghan hums, “Yes, what is it Mingyu?”

“Hyung,” the younger replies in a strained voice, “I...I remember.”

Goodbye to my Santa Monica dream

When Seokmin returns to his room, he doesn't go back to sleep immediately. No, he sits in the near-darkness and waits for Wonwoo to come, wanting to tell the elder that he's here if he wants to talk but maybe it's more for Seokmin's sake than Wonwoo's; he might need to vent more if that was even possible. After a few minutes of sitting alone; however, does Seokmin begin to worry. Did something happen to Wonwoo? Was he not coming back to bed? Carefully, he makes his way to the door, shivering as the cold shoots up from his feet and up his spine.

Seokmin's about to exit to the pitch dark hallway but his fingers linger against the cool wood as he hears hushed voices. Wonwoo is definitely one of the disembodied voices, but Seokmin strains his ear to catch the softer voice. He knows it's wrong to eavesdrop, that his mother would have no doubt punished him if she were here, but what could the two of them be discussing that's so important at this hour? Pieces of the conversation filter through the door but it's not enough to put the whole puzzle together. Nibbling his bottom lip, Seokmin carefully places his weight on the door enough so he can look through the crack.

He vaguely makes out the silhouette of the two band members. The way their bodies move though has Seokmin blushing slightly. It feels like he's intruding on a moment only meant to seen by the eyes of Cupid. The two are close, intimately close, sharing the same air and breath. How odd.

A silhouette shifts and one of them places their hands on the small of the other figures back.

Why were they just standing in the middle of a hallway though? Didn't they realize anyone could just walk in on the moment? Like now, for example. Guilt pooling in the pit of his stomach, Seokmin's about to detach himself from the door but stops as one of the silhouette comes too close. Seokmin bites down on his lip as he watches Jun and Wonwoo share a kiss, only tearing his gaze away as arms come to wrap around a neck.

What was happening?

A/N: dun dUN DUUUUUNNNN! And so the plot (and angst) thickens. What did Jun mean by 'Us'? What does Mingyu remember? SEokmin really should not eavesdrop. Until the next installement of this angst riddled story, so stay tuned! 

PS: Lyris from 'Santa Monica Dream' a slow and emotional song

PPS: All the chapter except 4 are parts of a flower if you were curious

PPPS: Alright guys, instead of just /solely/ thinking about meanie and wonhui, think about the other relatinships that might have been affected becasue of the incident plus meanie drifting apart