A/N: I recommend listening to Jun's cover of ISILY while reading the story and reading the entire thing because I wrote this as whole as a gift to Jun and all Jun-biased out there and not separately per ship and also because it would really just make a lot of more sense if you read it all.

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I. This familiar weather is left deeply in my memories

Besides the language, there are a lot of differences between China and Korea and when Junhui came here four years ago, he had missed China’s winter the most. Not because the winter is any different but because somehow, despite the freezing coldness of the weather, there was no winter in China he spent feeling colder than when he first experienced winter in Korea.

Alone, he felt.

He was absently looking outside the building’s large glass walls overlooking the complete whiteness of the city. It almost looked pure, had he not known better, and he lets himself miss home a little, even though deep down, he knew even a drop of memory could make him turn around.

He had not noticed Mingyu come beside him, with a spatula in one hand and the other hand under it to keep anything from spilling the floor. They were supposed to be practicing but everyone was starving and it was almost six in the morning.

The younger slowly placed the spatula which probably wasn’t made for cooking noodles in front of him, looking at him with burrowed eyebrows as he waits for Junhui to move.

II. Our fate in our previous lives

It was not just the language and the weather that made a lot of difference. It was not just the family and friends he left to pursue him dreams. It was those nights when he would wake up in the middle of the night, barely an adult, sweat seeping out of his body because of a terrible nightmare. Of not being able to debut. Of disappointing his parents. Of doing all of these for nothing.

Of being no one.

Junhui would try his best to go back to sleep because their couple of hours of sleep was critical in their everyday lives as trainees with no clear future ahead of them. It was like a bleak pattern on a canvas, barely drawn, barely colored.

During these times, he would go back to the practice room and just move. Moving until his mind ran out of things to think about was better than sit on his bed, listen to the quiet, but hear all of the possible sounds of the future.

The first time Soonyoung joined him, Junhui had been startled. But as days passed and hours stretched, dancing rhythmically with the other became fluid, became ordinary. As sleepless nights turned into unaccounted practices, what lies ahead became part of what had happened.

III. The ending that was set in place from the start

The first time it happened to him was not outside the practice rooms, among other people with the rest of this foreign country. The first time it happened to him was while practicing, and one of the other trainees had looked at him funnily and called him a weirdo. He had been surprised to say anything back then for he was wondering if speaking his native tongue was truly strange.

Different, it may be.

He was certain speaking Korean in China would make people look, too, but he was not convinced it would make people call them weirdo.

Junhui stood up to walk away from the floor and the boxes of pizza sprawled for everyone, not because he was running away, but because he knew there were more important things but Seungcheol caught his wrist, stopping him.

The older didn’t speak a word nor did he need to. He just held on Junhui long enough until he sat down again beside him, his shoulder on the other’s shoulder, as Seungcheol plucked the biggest slice of pizza and gave it to him.

IV. But this distance

The rough patch towards the stars had pushed Junhui down a lot more times than he would likely admit. There were more difficult times when he would just stop, and question himself if this was what he honestly wanted, if it was all worth it. Stopping for a second and looking back, there was a strained smile tugged on his lips.

Yes, this was what his heart desired.

It was still far, almost out of his hand’s reach but it was not impossible. It was still half-drawn, half-colored, and it could be crumbled and thrown away, but he was hoping it would not. Along with all the half-drawn and half-colored pieces of the other twelve boys around him.

He had misstepped, over stretched his arms, and made the wrong facial expression but even as the music faded out, he could not stop moving his limbs to correct the steps, to find the right angle of his long arms, and to see the perfect expression the song demands from his face.

All the other boys had sank their abused bodies to the floor and only Chan stood behind him, moving along him. Junhui had barely glanced at him but when he did, the younger held something in his face that made him think maybe, it couldn’t be that far now.

V. No matter how hard we try

He had almost given up, mind raking for reasons to leave instead of to stay, body calling for excuses not to move, and soul more exhausted than the physical training his body had endured.

Exhausted beyond, Junhui had thought of giving up.

He looked up at the ceiling and considered what he would tell his parents when he comes home, bags on his back but disappointment on himself burying heavier, or if there would be a lawsuit against him from leaving something that wasn’t his, or if there would be people who would remember him, not as Junhui who left before they could even begin but Junhui who tried.

He didn’t notice Jeonghan stood in front of him, hovering over him with two bottles of water on his hands and a tired but determined expression on his face. He properly sat up and took the other bottle, clasping it open in no time, as the other watched him gulp down more than half of it in seconds.

Before walking away, Jeonghan had placed a hand on his shoulder. Briefly, but all the meaning was not lost. It was that time when the older was telling him to hang on and at that time, it was all Junhui needed.

VI. I’m afraid it’ll be too late

Their debut was a blur to him when it happened because when it happened, it was like all thirteen pieces were either colored excessively or drawn incompletely, separately, yet somehow, when put together, the entire piece worked. Too much actually like it belonged, the pieces belonged.

He belonged.

Junhui knew his face was a prison of myriad of emotions, all wanting to escape at once, but he couldn’t bring himself to trembling, for his knees to stop shaking, for his eyes to stop swelling. It was something he wanted for so long but now that it was right in front of him, he wasn’t quite sure how to take it. It was like a treasure chest in front of him but he didn’t know how to open it.

His breath hitches as Hansol stood in front of him, the younger’s blank expression mixing with a confused one before he started laughing, louder than necessary, that the others had began glancing at them, their own hands sweating in fatal nervousness.

He knew Hansol was teasing him for being nerve-wrecked but he could not bring himself to scold the younger, or to even assert himself as hyung, because he didn’t forget the fondness in Hansol’s eyes and the proud smile he had on right after laughing to his face, as if telling him to go and get them.

VII. I just haven’t told you

Junhui would like to think he had adjusted accordingly to Korea after four years of living in the land of the morning calm. He had grown accustomed to the cultural differences and the traditions. He was quite proud to confess that the country had grown on him and he had learned to love it, for better or for worse.

After debuting though, he came to realize there were still a lot to learn.

His body tensed as senior artists arrived, alerting everyone especially the newbies. He wanted to greet them, too, but it was like something was stuck on his throat, still unused to the new world they have stepped in, still looking for guiding lights in the darkness they had thought they already left.

Junhui felt a hand on his back, slowly and gently leading his body in a bow. He looked beside him and saw Wonwoo looking back at him with a tentative smile. He felt himself loosen up, hands on his side with shoulders down and a more comfortable, stable breathing.

He glanced at Wonwoo again for a second, making a mental note to himself to thank him not just for today but for all those other days.

VIII. I can’t watch you cry

The variety shows they dreamed of participating in with ridiculous scripts were nothing compared to the reporters who would write about things they didn’t even confirm. The trainees who called him weirdo for speaking Chinese were kind compared to the people who called him other things on the Internet. The treatment they thought was cruel as trainees were comfortable after they debuted.

Junhui wanted to regret but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t completely ignore them though. He would think why do these people hurt him when he didn’t even know them. He would think why do these people talk about things as if they knew him. He would think why do these people call him things he wasn’t. He would think what was wrong with him instead of them.

He felt something soft touch his cheek. It was Joshua, with a handkerchief on his hand against Junhui’s cheek and a soft but serious expression on his face. He hadn’t even noticed he had started tearing up.

Joshua took his phone with everything Junhui was not away from him and sat beside the younger. Not saying a word, he stayed beside him until Junhui had himself dried, hiccupping violently.

IX. Even if I’ve left my body one day

Junhui thought what some people don't understand or sometimes miss is people can actually talk about something first before that particular something can lead into arguments, fights, misunderstandings, miscommunications, and other mis-sed. Not all the time non-verbal gestures work, especially to some people who can't feel these gestures. Maybe there is a reason why people can communicate with people but personally, Junhui preferred silence. He respected people who could go hours without speaking, especially if there was nothing to speak about.

He respected silence and he respected people who can respect it.

He was listening to some of their new unreleased recordings for their second mini album when Jihoon sat beside him, some lyrics on his hand and a pen behind his ear. He watches the younger scrutinize word after word, drawing lines under some words and circling particular phrases in complete silence, for a while before going back to what he was listening to.

After some time, Junhui felt a tug on his sleeve and saw Jihoon pointing to some words with exasperation. He removed his earphones, pursed his lips and looked at it for a moment before he took the pen from the younger’s hand and wrote something else.

The silence fell back after Jihoon’s grateful smile at him, taking the sheets of paper back, and going back to what he was doing and Junhui thought he would love to hear more of this.

X. Waiting for me in the same place

He thought he already knew about not being able to control another person's thinking. Because you can’t. He couldn’t. He could know a person for so long but still can't be one hundred percent sure of what they're thinking.

That’s what he thought.

However, Junhui was suprised when he arrived at four in the morning in the hotel after being held for several hours because of some problem with his visa to see Seungkwan idly changing foreign channels on the television and how the younger’s face brightened up when he saw him on the door.

He was still surprised when he arrived at two in the morning after running late with the choreographies for the upcoming comeback and saw all the lights in the living room on with a stirring Seungkwan on the couch when he heard footsteps.

He was still perpetually surprised when he saw Seungkwan waving excitedly at him as he got out of the van from a visit home. It was then that Junhui thought places could be people, too.

XI. Because of you, I exist

Perhaps it's not because people don't understand that some things are meant to disappear ultimately but because people do know. They know that when these things disappear, it's never going to be the same thing again and that pains more than the fact that someone or something finishes or disappears. It pains because people know what it's like that they are there and they don't know what to feel anymore that they're gone.

Gone, Junhui repeated on his head.

He scruffled his face against the pillow, ignoring the ruckus outside his room because even if he said that, it didn’t make the death of the person he looked up to less real. He could even say that it only made it more real.

He heard the door open and Seokmin entered his room without knocking. He removed the covers above him without talking and got him out of bed without flinching. He looked at the younger who was looking right back at him. He knew his hair was disheveled, his eyes were red, his nose was running, and his face was a mess.

When Junhui looked at Seokmin, he looked exactly like him. He had almost forgotten that he was his role model, too. He had the faith that humans are not stupid all the time when it comes to separation and disappearances but rather, fragile. And it's not humans fault to be made to feel, right? He didn’t think it is anyway.

XII. I still can’t be separated from you

His face had broken into a much delighted grin as they accepted another award that night after a series they had accepted since last week. It had been a particularly busy season, with shows, award nights, and comebacks he didn’t think sleep or food was even necessary anymore. He also didn’t think his face was capable of too much happiness until he was still grinning from ear to ear even when they climbed the stairs towards the stage for their goodbye performance and he was fainting, effectively stopping everyone.

So much for being professionals, Junhui thought as darkness swallowed him into an abyss.

He woke up to twelve boys sprawled on every corner of the hospital room and Minghao drooling on his hospital bed, face crumpled and lips slightly parted into a frown. He slowly looked around and noticed a needle on his right hand, dextrose dropping in a pattern, and Minghao on his old sweatshirt the younger borrowed four years ago.

Junhui couldn’t help smiling because he thought Minghao had already thrown away the sweatshirt or had grown tired of it and had simply forgotten about it even if he pestered him gravely for it.

Stirring, Minghao gently opened his eyes and saw Junhui smiling down at him. The younger’s eyes welled up before he forcefully threw himself to the older, like a child jumping into a bed of hay in glee. Tears had wet Junhui’s hospital gown as he patted Minghao’s head, burying his face on the other’s shoulder, on the old sweatshirt that smelled like four years ago, because something got caught in his eyes as well.

XIII. I still want to continue being with you 

Junhui had indulged himself with the never wavering support and love they had received from their fans, the Carats, in the beginning. It was overwhelming and unexpected when there were people who didn’t know them personally but would stood beside them, behind them, and even in front of them sometimes, no matter what. He was appalled in a good way but there were no words to express how thankful he was that they were there. It might sound cliche but they were where they were now because of their fans and somehow, being there with them made it all more worth it.

That said, there were also times when he was more curious.

He was curious why people wanted to see him. Just see him and not do anything such as his job. He was curious why people had enjoyed their performance with Minghao as a stuffed frog. He was curious why people had laughed when Seungkwan almost sang Jihoon’s part. Weren’t they supposed to be disappointed because of the mistake? He was curious why people had loved Hansol and Jihoon’s complicated handshake, the other members’ reactions whenever Joshua or Hansol would speak English, or whenever he or Minghao would speak Chinese when they should already be familiar with it, Seungkwan playing with a treadmill by himself, Seokmin choking on water and saying that was enjoyable, and how everyone talked with just the word “ramen” as if they were idiots.

He held a small smile as he read comments on his recently uploaded video. It was now pouring hearts and comments under it from Carats. Despite better judgment, Junhui liked reading each and every comment because he felt that hidden within the negative remarks where honest, thoughtful messages from their fans and he wanted to read them all.

Junhui stopped at one comment, complaining at first what she was doing with herself, listening to the video at the office, and feeling down because it was a melancholic song after all, and then, saying in the end, isn’t it the point?

XIV. Tell you that sentence, “I love you”

Junhui realized that when you're sad, you don't flaunt that you're sad. Sadness isn't like happiness to be flaunted around, to be shoved in other people's face like wine and buttercream meringue on the fourth of July. It's the complete opposite of that. People build a coccoon around themselves to hide their sadness except there's no butterfly to come out of it at the end of the day. They stay inside that shell of armor to protect themselves, not from the outside that threatens to invade but the opposite, from the inside that threatens to spill. Because the world isn't fond of sadness. It doesn't need your sadness, your pain, your tears, your truth. It forces you in this make-believe plot that happiness is the top and there is no room for sadness in this show called life. You curl up in bed instead, cry yourself to sleep, and will for yourself to hang in there, another night until the day repeats again.

Except those days don’t always have to repeat.

He took a deep breath and stretched his arms. He looked around the room and heard chaos from the kitchen and dining room. He figured they probably won’t be eating dinner on time tonight but it was still better than ordering takeout or not eating at all. He stood up and looked what the others were doing.

Seungcheol, Soonyoung, and Seokmin were messing up the ingredients while Joshua, Jihoon, and Seungkwan were actually making progress. Jeonghan, Hansol, and Chan were trying to prepare side dishes but it was mostly Hansol and Chan trying to eat some as Jeonghan glared at them. He glanced at the stove and was relieved nothing was burning at least, Wonwoo and Minghao hovering behind as Mingyu stirred.

His lips tugged up slightly as he rolled his sleeves and walked towards the stove, attracted to the delicious smell that Mingyu was preparing and probably that Wonwoo and Minghao were pestering him to taste already. He knew he was more of a deadweight in the kitchen than actual help but it was his space.

This was his space.

End

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A/N: To be honest, when I first heard of the song, I originally thought of writing a PURELY angst fic detailing the pains and heartaches of Jun because I really feel like along with Joshua he's one of the underloved members. But when I was writing the fic, I didn't want more sadness in this already sad world and also because Jun deserves better and despite the song being really, really sad, I thought maybe I could just write about sadness WITH love and care for Jun from all the members and of course, the Carats. I didn't know if it showed at all here but I hoped it did because I know, deep down, how much we and the members love our dear (belated) birthday boy, Jun.

Anyway, I just want to say I almost gave up on the fourth drabble because I didn't realize writing fourteen drabbles could take up so much time for me! But I'm glad I didn't because I want to show the world the love for Jun. I am so emotinally invested in him right now oh my god.

If you read all the way here, thank you and I hope you guys enjoyed this.

PS. I just want to say I spent like five minutes searching for Jun's ship name with Seungkwan and Chan. But it was worth it because now I have really confirmed that all thirteen members are shippable with each other. Like seriously this is the only group I've ever stanned that I don't have a problem with any of the ships.

- Elle