c h a p t e r  o n e ; 

evanesce [ ev-uh-nes, ev-uh-nes ]

verb (used without object), evanesced, evanescing

-

Silence, is there

Nothing more to say?

It’s been long since

The white flowers of laughter have withered

-

“This is the last concert we’ll be doing before our hiatus, so let’s give it our best, alright?”

The rest of the group watched their leader with looks of certainty and determination, fear and anxiety going undetected. They’d been in the business for far too long to have any concert of sorts wreck their nerves. At this point, holding a concert was as easy as breathing to them, and each time they held one, they prayed the audience enjoyed it as much as they did. Of course they did.

“Before we get onstage, does anyone have any questions?” Leeteuk asked, looking from member to member. Just then, a ring-clad hand was raised. Everyone turned.

“Me,” Eunhyuk said seriously, darting his eyes in an austere manner. Everyone stared at him confusedly, curiously. His expression quickly softened, breaking into crinkled eyes, a scrunched nose, and teeth and gums. “I have nothing to say. I just wanted to know what it feels like to have everyone’s attention on me like this.”

Everyone sighed in exasperation, rolling their eyes as far back into their heads as possible. Leeteuk slapped the nape of Eunhyuk’s neck, frowning in disapproval. “This isn’t the time to joke around, Hyuk.”

“Sorry.”

There was a pair, only one pair of eyes looking at Eunhyuk with adoration, its owner laughing to himself like he had just told the best joke he’d ever heard in his thirty-six years of living. He didn’t say anything about it though, and Eunhyuk barely noticed, so it didn’t matter. He quickly let his laughter die down, dissolving into nothing louder than a whisper. Clearing his throat, he huddled together in a circle with the rest, putting his hand out in front of him as the others did.

Leeteuk looked from one to the other, taking in the expressions of s, long-time colleagues, friends, family. He believed in them. He always had. With this being their last concert before a two year (possibly longer) hiatus, he was sure all of them would pour their hearts and souls into their acts for the night. He paused momentarily as he scanned the worried look on Eunhyuk’s face, his previously cheeky expression long fallen into the abyss. He knew Eunhyuk was feeling extremely pressured to execute his solo act properly, considering how the managers had berated him for a mistake he’d made during one of the concert rehearsals. His solo act was, after all, one of the highlights of the concert. He wasn’t called the dancing machine for no reason. No amount of jokes could disguise the worried look etched into his delicate features.

Leeteuk moved his attention back to the center of the circle, focusing on the overlapping hands held out by the members. “One, two, three—”

“Kill them all!”

Super Junior dispersed, moving towards the stage hastily and taking their positions behind the large red curtains. They waited for their cue to enter the stage, and as always, they killed it. Well, most of them did.

-

“Good job, everyone.” 

The backstage atmosphere was filled with thank gods and you did wells and pats on the backs and butts. Most of them were standing in front of their respective dressers, wiping make-up off and changing out of their sweaty costumes, while others rushed to the bathrooms, water coolers and what not. Donghae pulled the last of his wet tissues out of its packet and wiped the smeared under eye make-up off his face, tossing it into a bin. As soon as he’d cleaned off every remnant of his icky make-up off and changed out of his costume, he playfully skipped his way to his best friend’s dresser several tables down, only to find it empty. Where was he?

“Kyu,” Donghae called out to the man next to him who’d been dabbing a tissue across his forehead in a bid to wipe off a sheen of sweat, “where’s Hyukjae?” Hyukjae was Eunhyuk’s real name; the one that replaced Eunhyuk as soon as he was stripped bare of his identity as an idol to blend in with the rest of the crowd offstage. Donghae loved calling him by his real name.

Kyuhyun shot him a look, one that Donghae had only been able to see via the mirror. Kyuhyun nodded towards the stage, lips pursed. It took a while before he spoke.

“He’s onstage with Leeteuk and the rest,” he said, wondering how Donghae could’ve been so dense. He had literally walked by them on his way off the stage after all.

Donghae wasn’t fond of the way Kyuhyun looked at him. It made him uneasy, and he hated it, but he tried to pay no mind to it. Besides, all he wanted to do was to celebrate the close to their final concert with his best friend. Call him sentimental but the thought of rounding up the concert with his best friend of over eighteen years felt like the perfect way to punctuate their years of hard work.

“Thanks,” Donghae said, smiling awkwardly. He skipped towards the stairs to the stage, but as soon as he’d reached the top, he halted in his tracks.

Donghae quickly hid himself behind a large curtain and listened in. His heart raced at the sounds of strained voices and muffled sobs coming from the center of the stage, especially since he recognised the voices; all four of them. He carefully stuck the top of his face out from behind the curtain to get a better look at what was happening, and as soon as he’d been able to see them, he froze. His eyes doubled in size as he watched a very distraught Leeteuk patting the back of a very sad, shameful man who was bawling his eyes out; Hyukjae. It was Hyukjae. Two of their managers were standing in front of them, backs to Donghae, and even though he couldn’t see their expressions, Donghae could tell that they were beyond enraged, most probably at Hyukjae. He didn’t understand why, so he continued to listen.

“This was the last concert, Lee Hyukjae. The last one! How could you mess up like that?” One of their managers, Yongsun, yelled. Hyukjae flinched, leaning into Leeteuk’s arms for comfort. He began to cry louder, trying his best to muffle his sobs with the back of his hand. It didn’t really work though. “What will everyone think of us? What will the tabloids write about our dancing machine ing up his own solo act in what could possibly be Super Junior’s last concert ever? You knew we had to end this on a high note, as perfectly as we could, but you just had to ruin everything. You were the main highlight of the solo acts, Lee Hyukjae!”

Donghae felt his heart constrict, a pain like no other shooting through his chest like a dagger through a block of wood. In all the years that he’d known Hyukjae, he had never seen Hyukjae cry like this. The last time he’d caught him crying this badly was when the two of them had fought over a misunderstanding, one caused by the rumours and accusations thrown about by the press. Even then, the way he had cried back then stood no chance to how much he was crying right now.

“We warned you during the rehearsals to get your together, but instead you spent your time fooling around with the rest. We wouldn’t have minded that if you’d have been able to pick up and take things seriously. That means no ing up, but of course you did.”

“Hyung,” Leeteuk chipped in. “Give him a break. He has always done well in the past sixteen years of being in Super Junior and you know that. It was one slip-up. Forgive him. Let’s move on.”

Jisung, their second manager, stepped forward. He placed a hand on Hyukjae’s shoulder and shook him, hard. Unfortunately, Leeteuk was in no place to stop him.

“We’ll see if this one slip-up makes or breaks Super Junior, because if Super Junior never reunites after the hiatus because of you, your ridiculous mistake and the criticism we have coming our way, I swear to god, Hyukjae, that I will kill—”

“Hyung,” Donghae interrupted, stepping out from behind the curtains. He balled his hands into fists behind his back, counting to ten in his head to calm himself down. “Someone’s looking for you backstage. You too, Yongsun-hyung.”

Both the managers took a step back, sending both Hyukjae and Leeteuk one last deathly glare before turning around to stomp their way backstage. Donghae took a few careful steps forward, tilting his head as he glanced at his blonde friend. There were tears trickling down his cheeks, smudging the black eyeliner drawn around the perimeter of his sad eyes. Leeteuk was hugging him now, cooing as he rubbed his hand up and down the small of Hyukjae’s back. Donghae wanted to tear Leeteuk away and be the warmth around Hyukjae in his place. As if he’d read Donghae’s mind, Leeteuk pulled away, pressing his palms against Hyukjae’s cheeks. He wiped his tears away with his thumbs and smiled warmly at him, looking directly into a pair of eyes that looked anywhere but him.

“It’s okay, Hyukjae.” Leeteuk reassured, rubbing the nape of Hyukjae’s neck soothingly. “It’s okay. No one blames you, alright? None of us blame you. We love you. That small mistake doesn’t change that.”

Leeteuk took a step backwards and gently placed his hands on Hyukjae’s shoulders, smiling affectionately. He looked at Donghae and nodded as if to tell him it was okay for him to walk over, before leaving the two of them, disappearing backstage. Donghae walked towards his best friend gingerly, dipping his head to look at Hyukjae, whose eyes were still glued to the floor. He pressed his lips into a small smile and sighed.

“Hey there,” he said softly, hoping to receive a smile in return but to no avail. “How are you?”

Out of nowhere, Hyukjae darted his head up and glared at Donghae wordlessly. Only then could Donghae get a good look of his features; Hyukjae’s eyes were swollen and red from all the excessive crying, his cheeks were flushed and his lower lip was abused by severe bite marks, probably from when he’d been trying hard to stifle his weeping. He barely paid attention to how Hyukjae was boring holes through his very existence and continued obliviously.

“Everyone’s changing backstage so we can go to the restaurant and celebrate our last concert,” he said calmly, laughing softly. “I went to your dresser looking for you but you weren’t there, so I—”

“Shut up,” Hyukjae said hoarsely. “Please shut up.”

He brushed past Donghae, bumping into his shoulder, hard, throwing Donghae off balance. Hyukjae ran down the stairs backstage, leaving Donghae upset and dumbfounded. He knew that Hyukjae was sad, yes, but was it really necessary to act that way towards someone who only had the intention of comforting him? He touched his shoulder and swallowed, forcing himself to hold back his tears. He’d always been a rather emotionally sensitive man after all. However, he couldn’t help but notice the way Hyukjae had limped out of his sight.

During the car ride towards the restaurant, Donghae noticed how Hyukjae had chosen to sit in the corner of the backseat next to Leeteuk, staring silently out the window with the side of his forehead pressed against the glass. He decided not to say anything about it.

-

Bottles clinked against each other in a toast, accompanied by an atmosphere filled with merriment and loud voices chatting away past the dead of night. The men took their seats after emptying out their first bottles of soju, grinning and laughing as they made themselves comfortable around the table. Each one of them looked towards their leader in anticipation, and of course, as expected, Leeteuk spoke first.

“We did really well, guys.” He reassured, flashing his signature smile. Underneath the table, however, Leeteuk had his hand on Hyukjae’s lap, squeezing it as a form of encouragement. “We ended the year on a good note, and now it’s time to enjoy ourselves for the next two years. I’ll be going on a trip around the world with my family, and yes, Shimkoong is included. What about you guys?”

Shindong puffed his cheeks, sighing. “I’ll be directing a bunch of other concerts, hyung. Work doesn’t stop for me.”

“Me neither,” Heechul adds. “I’ve still got a lot of variety shows to be on. It’s like they can’t live without me.”

Half of Super Junior rolled their eyes at Heechul, while the other half had accepted him as a narcissist and found his comment unsurprising.

“I’ll be opening a new cafe with Jongjin,” Yesung smiled, tapping his fingers on the table. “Please visit us when it’s open, okay?”

“Of course we will!” Kyuhyun exclaimed, taking a swig of his beer. “Who wouldn’t want free food?”

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