I know I’m going crazy, this is it for me. The pressure is getting huge—more and more…

 “You don’t have to do this.”

Minhyun watched as Jonghyun glanced up at him slowly—soft, soft eyes gently focusing on him and crinkling at the edges as he schooled his expression into a parody of a smile. The arrow fell short, however, and instead, he just looked weary and a little bit lost, and Minhyun struggled to keep the panic bubbling in his chest at bay.

Absently, as Minhyun met his gaze, he remembered Jonghyun’s quiet drunkenness a couple of nights ago, marked by the chilly winter breeze and long legs swinging underneath the balcony railing of their apartment. It was when they’d been first given the option of a last ditch attempt to rescue their dreams, and Minhyun had ended up keeping Jonghyun company late into the night, counting the lights of the city as they shut off one by one. When the darkness was finally giving way to early morning, and Jonghyun’s head had found Minhyun’s shoulder and his mumblings had become somewhat more coherent as he sobered up, Jonghyun had turned towards him and peered up at his face intently.

“What is it?” Minhyun remembered asking, heart beating roughly in his chest as his gaze brushed against Jonghyun’s face, taking in the way his skin was illuminated softly by the daybreak.

Instead of replying, Jonghyun had lifted up a hand and rested it gently against Minhyun’s cheek, lightly sweeping against it with his cold fingers.

“There are lines in your face,” he had mumbled, breath still smelling vaguely of the cheap soju that had once occupied the bottle lying by his side.

“It comes with age.”

There had been a beat of silence, and then Jonghyun dropped his hand and looked away, squinting at the first rays of sun breaking through the grey film of clouds.

“Your face isn’t one made for age,” he had replied quietly. “But the lines have been there for so long.”

Another pause, and then he had tilted his head back at Minhyun and smiled.

“I think I was the one who put them there.”

Minhyun had wanted to tell him that he was wrong, but instead he just watched as Jonghyun stared back out into the city below them, wondering what he was thinking about, what he was seeing when his eyelashes dampened with tears. Minhyun had wanted to brush them away, but instead he just sat silently next to Jonghyun, pressing his warmth against him like a steady reminder that he was still there, and prayed with all his might that Jonghyun understood his intention.

Minhyun thought that perhaps he did, but the look on his face when he gathered himself up and extended a hand to Minhyun was carefully guarded and so, so lonely.

It was the same look on Jonghyun’s face right now as he stared up at Minhyun from his seat at the empty dining table—vaguely benevolent, vaguely bittersweet—and Minhyun was at a loss of how to wipe that expression off of Jonghyun’s face, once and for all.

“Do what?” Jonghyun finally asked lightly, breaking the silence that had been stretching between them. His eyes dropped back down to the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of him, and the way they moved somberly across the sheet made it seem as if he was reading his own death sentence.

“Do…this,” Minhyun said when he found his voice, waving a hand at the piece of paper. “Lower yourself, humiliate yourself—” His voice broke off, and his heart stopped as Jonghyun seemingly instinctively looked back up at him.

“You don’t have to do this for us,” Minhyun finished finally, his voice lowered to a raspy whisper.

Jonghyun was quiet for a moment, silently observing Minhyun. Minhyun felt his skin prickle underneath his gaze, but he forced himself to stay still and not bolt from the scrutiny.

“I’m not the only one doing it though,” Jonghyun replied, gesturing for Minhyun to take the seat in front of him. He didn’t, choosing to remain standing, and he watched Jonghyun let his hand drop limply against the wood of the table.

“We all are, so don’t make me into a martyr.”

“But you feel the most responsible.”

Minhyun’s words were curt, and the even though you shouldn’t was left unsaid but nevertheless, hung tensely in the air. A rare, genuine smile crawled its way onto Jonghyun’s face and he smoothed his hands over the piece of paper.

“This could be our last chance, Minhyun-ah,” he said quietly, smile still present on his face.

Minhyun opened his mouth and took a breath, as if he was about to say something in contradiction. Time seemed to be suspended—it was like the hope of the world was held against Minhyun’s tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to move it and say something. In the end, he weakly shut his mouth, leaving no words uttered and a helplessness swimming in the room. 

 Minhyun watched as Jonghyun’s smile became tired and sad, and with a lurch of visceral pain, he felt pieces of his heart slowly crumble off as he continued to meet Jonghyun’s steady gaze.

“I’m glad we’re all in it together though. With you by my side, I feel like I can do anything,” Jonghyun said finally.

He knew the words were meant for all five of them—all of Nu’est, who had made the grim decision to come together in one last final battle against the Korean entertainment industry and their fate—but as Minhyun gave Jonghyun a bone-crushing hug and finally walked back to his room to lie on his bed and close his eyes, he pretended that the words were meant for him only.

As he laid back against the soft down of his bed covers, he could almost pretend that he was living in a dream—soft, melancholy, but temporary—and that he was about to wake up any moment now. But there was no sudden awakening—no jolt into reality. Reality was already accompanying him, wrapping its fingers around his arm gently, and then threateningly. He could feel something inside him harden with the coaxing of reality’s thin fingers, and he promised himself that regardless of what would happen, he would try his best to give Jonghyun the last chance that he wanted. Regardless of what would happen, he would shove away his pride and give Jonghyun, give Dongho, give Youngmin, give Minki the last chance to stand on stage—together.

The journey might have been easy at the very beginning—at the starting line—but it had since become more and more difficult. He knew this was going to be a bumpy road—in his mind’s eye, he could already see the thrushes and the thorns and the bleeding arms and scratched legs of s—but it was the only road offered to them. He would endure the humiliation, rewind the past five years, and become a trainee again if it meant he could stand on stage next to his best friends and watch the smile radiate from Jonghyun’s face—pure bliss and contentment.

He’d endured it for so long anyways—the frustration, the pain, the failures—and if Jonghyun had always been the one to give him the validation he sought for, then this time, he would be the one to give Jonghyun his dream back.

And if nothing else could chase away the cold grip reality had around his heart, at least he had his best friends by his side, holding him up and leading the way.