Though keeping my eyes closed and enduring is heavy, I clench my teeth and bear it anyways…

 “Aron-hyung is not joining us.”

Minhyun’s eyes shot up from where he was staring at his stained shoe laces, and he exchanged glances with Dongho from across their small practice room. Dongho looked just as confused as he was, but when they looked to Minki, all they saw was a firm resignation as he nodded minutely to Jonghyun.

Nobody could catch Youngmin’s eye. He was leaning against a table pushed towards the wall, looking down at the floor with a small frown on his face and Jonghyun’s hand pressed gently against the small of his tense back.

Dongho cleared his throat. “Why?” He asked. His voice echoed in the room and the question sounded almost too loud for the grave silence that had fallen over them.

Jonghyun shook his head and let a ghost of a smile play on his lips.

“It’s his decision.”

The room lapsed back into silence after his words—one hung tensely as if ready to crack and give way to chaos at any moment. Minhyun watched Youngmin closely, waiting for the weight of heavy resentment to settle in his chest.

He understood that every member had a choice of whether or not he wanted to join the program, but Minhyun had thought that they’d all come to a consensus that they’d go down fighting together. And, if he was completely honest with himself, only the thought that all five of them would be there for each other stopped him from staying awake every night, staring blankly at the bumpy ceiling of his bedroom, and kept him aloft the anxiety and fear.

Yet, even that notion had been brutally taken away from him.

Minhyun watched Youngmin closely, waiting for the weight of heavy resentment to settle in his chest, but it never did.

Instead, there was a sea of sadness engulfing him, and he felt it filling up his lungs as he struggled to breathe. His eyes were still trained on Youngmin, but they were unfocused and he could only see a blurry image of him, fading at the edges like an apparition threatening to disappear. He tried to blink away the tears, the betrayal—betrayal not so much from Youngmin but from music, from his ruined dreams, from life in general—but he could only screw his eyes shut and try to regulate his breathing.

He listened to the rest of s walk up to Youngmin, the ruffle of clothing as they each gave him a hug, the light murmurs he didn’t try hard enough to pick up on, and the hesitant steps of Jonghyun that walked towards him and then after a slight pause, away from him. He listened to them shuffle out, the door shutting mutely behind them, but most of all he listened to the rise and fall of his own chest reminding him that he was still alive, still breathing.

Inhale—one, two, three—

Exhale—one, two, three—

Inhale—one, tw—

Suddenly, there were strong arms wrapped tightly against him and he immediately fell into the embrace, the strength of his body fleeing as if the support of another person was the long awaited breath of fresh air.

“It’s going to be okay, Minhyun-ah.”

He heard Youngmin murmur the words against his hair, heard the hitch in his breathing as he too tried to keep his voice as calm as possible, and tightened his arms around him.

“It wasn’t your decision,” Minhyun muttered, a little bit of indignation tinting the edges of his words, and if he sounded petulant and childish, he no longer cared.

Youngmin gave a short, humorless chuckle, and Minhyun’s hair gently.

“You make it sound like we had a choice in the first place,” Youngmin said lightly. He paused. “We don’t.”

Minhyun didn’t reply, breathing in the scent of his hyung’s subtle cologne and appreciating that Youngmin didn’t mind his tears staining the sleeve of his sweater.

“What are we going to do?” Minhyun finally whispered with childlike candor.

Youngmin began to pull back, and even though Minhyun wanted nothing more than to drag him back into the embrace, he let him step away. Fingers slipped under his chin and lifted it up until he was looking at Youngmin—a stab of fresh pain returning when he saw the gentle sadness and acceptance swimming in Youngmin’s eyes.

“You’re going to change the world,” Youngmin said, his voice deceptively casual as if he was merely relegating chores for their dorm. Fold the laundry.

“You’re going to make Nu’est number one again.” Wash the dishes.

“You’re going to make sure the world does not—cannot—forget about us again.” Let’s clean up our home together, guys.

Youngmin offered him a watery smile, and pulled him close once more.

“But take care of yourself, okay?” He continued, words soft against Minhyun’s ear. “Take care of Jonghyun too—make sure he knows that none of this is his fault. The past, the present, the future—they’re all out of our control whether we like it or not, and the most we can do is fight against the story destiny had written for us. And he can’t do that alone.”

Youngmin stepped back again and ruffled Minhyun’s hair with a smile, as genuine and worry-free as he could make it. Minhyun tried to do him the same courtesy, but he was well aware that the poor excuse for a smile on his face was far from happy.

“And don’t fall into it, my beloved dongsaeng,” Youngmin warned seriously, eyebrows knitting together. “Once it gets you, you’ll never climb your way out.”

Minhyun rubbed his nose, sniffling despite the fact that he knew he looked ridiculous, and then cocked his head.

“Fall into what?” He asked, bemused.

“Capitalism,” Youngmin replied darkly, nodding to himself.

Minhyun stared for a moment, blinking at Youngmin’s overly serious face, and before he could stop himself, he burst into laughter from the pure absurdity of the statement. As idols, their identity had literally been crafted by the system of capitalism, and it had been so long that Minhyun had forgotten it was an institution and not just a way of life.

The irony hadn’t been lost to Youngmin, who grinned at his outburst and nudged him with his elbow. Minhyun pushed him back, still chortling.

“Hey, you laugh now, but I’m just telling you there is no such thing as ethical capitalism. We gotta get out of it when we can,” Youngmin added, the faked conviction in his voice making the feat sound almost possible.

“Sure, hyung,” Minhyun managed between breaths. “Whatever you say.”

Youngmin elbowed him once more as they made their way out of the practice room and slowly back to their dormitory. The cold outside still nipped at their exposed skin, but Minhyun gladly welcomed the chilly winter air after the suffocating dance room.

Along the way, the two of them wordlessly stopped in a park they had hung out in often during their trainee days, and as Minhyun resisted the urge to swing his legs against the bench while stabbing his straw into his yogurt drink, he wished for this moment to last. An intermission that lasted for an eternity, a small repose where the world still seemed to hang together, if only by Youngmin’s shoulder pressed against his and Jonghyun’s exasperated smile when he found them in the park and joined them, stealing Minhyun’s drink in the process. It was only a matter of time when Dongho and Minki appeared, voices loud and boisterous as they tried to cajole Youngmin into buying them drinks as well.

Minhyun closed his eyes to the laughter, feeling Jonghyun’s hand lying softly against his thigh, and quietly intertwined his fingers between his. There was no indication that the world had shifted its course—just a gentle squeeze, a head against a shoulder, and the laughter of his best friends fading in and out of the background.