Opening night was always a hectic affair at the ballet. The opening night of Coppélia was no exception. So when Junmyeon was late to the theatre, the call from Jihyo was expected. When he barged through the stage door drenched from the rain with a limp and a large bruise on the side of his face, there were only a few people who gave him a glance. It was opening night, after all, and it was far from the first time Junmyeon had come in looking like this. 

But he was there. He was present. With some chemical assistance he was both hyper focused and hyper aware just like any good stage manager should be. Jihyo and Taeil, his assistant and apprentice, only gestured to his lukewarm coffee when he sat down in the production office. He ended up tossing it and reaching for his emergency supply of BB cream instead.

The thing Junmyeon admired about performers was how they could go out and showcase their craft in front of so many people. It’s like they abandoned their human problems and transformed into these other-worldly beings. Of course, Junmyeon was used to seeing the bright smiles instantly vanish into the more natural groans and grins of his coworkers. He’d seen tears, injuries, and arguments all happen behind the curtain. There were emotional breakdowns sometimes but for the most part everyone handled themselves. The ones that couldn’t tended to not come to him these days anyway. Jihyo filled that role now. Everybody liked Jihyo. She’d never had a boyfriend that had to be escorted out by venue security.   

He was barely holding it together by the top of the third act but that wasn’t anything unusual. To him the orchestra seemed oddly loud that day, the screens and buttons in front of him blurring at each crescendo. He pricked himself with a thumbtack he kept handy. He focused again, heart pounding so much he thought he was going to be sick, then not soon enough the final cue was given and the curtains closed. 

But it was still opening night. 

Once he signed off with the run crew and removed his headset, he tried to pull himself together enough for the reception that would be starting soon in the connecting banquet hall. Still alone in his booth, he reached into his backpack to take out four large white pills, breathing as over the next few minutes the jittering of his hands ceased and his mind and body went numb. It was only then that he took his phone out of his back pocket and took it off silent. There was only one text from Taecyeon, an address for a party and when he was to meet him there.

But he would never make it to the party. In only eight minutes he would be caught between the crowd of the lobby and the crowd of the banquet hall when he’d get a call from a hospital in Daegu, stuck between all those bodies and suddenly unable to breathe. 

He could’ve thought of that moment as the beginning of the end. The reality was that already the ice he stood on was thinned and cracked to its limits. Everyone knew it. No one would say it.

“How are you doing today, Mr. Junmyeon?”

“Please, just Junmyeon really is fine.”

Today Yixing looked properly exhausted, the bags under his eyes expanding in recent days. But now the exhaustion crept into his posture, his well trained body seemingly giving way due to prolonged lack of sleep. His heavy winter coat had been abandoned as the coming spring was just beginning to warm the air. The young man would’ve had a difficult time in Seoul, being as sensitive to the cold as he was. Now he simply wore his postal service coat and thin black gloves that provided extra grip and protection. 

“Junmyeon, then,” he said, handing over the typical amount of junk mail.

After two months of front step chats, Junmyeon had thought Yixing would never drop the formalities with him. He hadn’t asked him to in weeks out of fear of being pushy. It could very well be that Yixing wanted to maintain a certain professional distance after achieving an internal sense of moral balance through his gifting of Christmas cookies in exchange for Junmyeon’s much lauded good deed. He hoped he didn’t relent simply because he was out of sorts with himself.

“I’m doing well. Thinking about picking up gardening… possibly. These days. You know, with the change of seasons.” In an earlier time, Junmyeon would’ve berated himself with his awkward delivery of words. Yixing didn’t seem the type to mind though and Baekhyun had been encouraging him to focus just on what was in front of him, not letting his mind spiral into a sea of what if’s.

“That seems very fitting of you, Mr… I mean… Junmyeon. My mother is a gardener herself. A hobby. But her mother used to enter plants into competitions back in the day.”

Yixing brought up his family somewhat frequently. He claimed it was a symptom of how much he’d been missing them these days. With any luck he would be able to visit Changsha soon. 

Junmyeon had never mentioned his own family but assumed that surely by now Yixing had noticed that the odd package every now and then with his name on it was different from what appeared on the endless stream of miscellaneous advertisements he gave him each day. Or maybe he was just overthinking things again. Maybe Yixing had never thought of where his parents might be. Or maybe someone else in the neighborhood fed him their stilted narrative in full and Yixing was pitying him just like Jongdae was prone to do.

No. Now he was overthinking. 

“How about you? Are you doing alright? I just noticed you seem to be a bit… worn out?” 

“Oh. Me?” Yixing brought each of his hands to pat his face as if checking himself over. “Well you might understand. I have an appointment this week with my doctor. If it doesn’t go well it will mean I won’t be able to make auditions for next season with the company. I’m… well, I’m worried about it.”

Physical health was often on the minds of professional dancers. At the ballet they had a whole in house medical team to make sure minor aches and pains didn’t evolve into major aches and pains. For things to get so bad that someone as passionate about dance as Yixing to be forced to stop entirely? Junmyeon didn’t have to use too much imagination to have a good idea about how soul crushing that would be. 

“You’ve been listening to your body like I told you? Didn’t try to superpower your way through heavy lunar new year deliveries like you did over Christmas?”

“I’m a stubborn man, Junmyeon.” The cheery disposition he’d come to associate with his mailman vanished as he spoke, replaced with a tense pensiveness. “On one hand I won’t let anything keep me from the stage. On the other hand if my body just… won’t work… I can’t say I know what I’d do with myself.” 

Yixing stared off a bit absently, hands flexing at his sides. Junmyeon’s heart went out to him. He’d seen careers end before. Yixing still seemed young enough that he’d be able to transition into another area of the arts if he really needed to but it would hurt. It would hurt a lot.

“Do you have time to wait here a moment? I want to show you something,” he said thinking on his feet. His words seemed to pull Yixing back to earth and he nodded.

“Ok.”

Junmyeon retreated back into the house. In the living room wedged somewhat behind the TV set was the box Yixing had delivered to him the day they met. It had stayed outside his back door for weeks until it came up during one of his sessions with Baekhyun. When Junmyeon deemed himself ready enough, he was to go through them either with Baekhyun or on his own. Up until now the tattered box hadn’t moved from its new position. He pulled it out enough to comfortably shuffle through the titles until he found what he was looking for then grabbed his laptop off of the couch. Yixing seemed confused when he appeared again with his hands full moving to sit comfortably on the front step. 

By now Junmyeon was used to taking short walks with Baekhyun and Jongdae looping from the back of his house to the front then down the road until the first bend. To anyone else it might not seem like much. To Junmyeon it meant so much he almost cried. Dead plants and barren trees had never looked so beautiful.

“I’ve never actually watched this before but I know they’ll have footage of her. Yes… yes, this is it. Take a look.” Yixing sat down next to him and Junmyeon placed the computer in his lap, turning up the volume, the Seoul Ballet Theatre company coming to life.

“This is your production?” Yixing asked, eyes following the movements of the pair on stage.

“Yes. The woman is Bae Joohyun, principal dancer. This was her first show back after knee surgery. She tore her ACL during a performance early the previous season. Nobody thought she’d be back within a year but here she is, the most graceful and precise Juliet I think I’ve ever seen.” When explaining it to Yixing like this, the uncomfortable dread and anguish he’d felt when he’d first received the package didn’t rear its head. He felt… he didn’t know what he felt exactly. But like Yixing, he saw the beauty of it. “Being diligent is the most important thing. I think as long as your stubbornness doesn’t get in the way of diligence, you’ll get the result you’re looking for whether it’s this doctor’s visit or the next.”

The video continued to play. Yixing watched until the end of the piece, hand caressing the hinge of the laptop as if it were made of gold. 

“As expected. Stage managers are wise,” he said. 

“I wouldn’t call myself wise,” Junmyeon said, blushing a bit. “If anything I just have a few more years on you.” Perking up to a semblance of his usual self, Yixing closed the laptop and handed it back.

“A few years? How old are you?”

“Thirty-one, unfortunately. I feel it the most in my back.” Yixing let out an exaggerated gasp.

“Now I feel bad for speaking so casually! You don’t look like it at all. I’m twenty-seven.” 

“Well even though I’m a crotchety old man, I hope we can keep in touch once you return to the stage.”

“I gave you my number for a reason. It was very intentional,” Yixing said. Junmyeon could feel his eyes attempting to meet his own but he focused on the laptop in his hands instead. “I like spending time with you. Should I do more? Should I start calling you hyung ?” Junmyeon could hear the smile in his voice.

“Make fun of me all you want but know that friendship isn’t one of my strong suits. Be gentle with me.”

“Understood,” Yixing finished sternly with a salute before the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. “Can I ask if you’ll be swapping out theatre for gardening indefinitely?” 

Junmyeon shifted his head to look at Yixing but couldn’t raise his eyes past the younger man’s chin as the weight of the question settled on his shoulders. Baekhyun had encouraged him to not think of himself as a broken man but even with all of his progress he felt that description was an accurate one. Their industry was about as small of a world as you could get. Even if he were able to walk through Seoul today, he doubted he’d be able to get any work. He preferred to not think about just how thoroughly he had ruined his own life. Of course, Yixing didn’t know anything about that. Maybe he suspected. Maybe he’d heard rumors. Maybe Junmyeon never looked as put together and in control of his life as he thought he did. 

“I guess you could say, using your words, I’m at the point where I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself. Gardening seems like as good of a place to start as any,” he settled with saying. “But look at me distracting you from your work. I should let you go.” The two of them stood up but Yixing still lingered a moment longer.

“Thank you for your time as always. Your words really helped. I’ll make sure to be as diligent as Joohyun no matter what I find out at the appointment,” he said.

Junmyeon stayed to watch the small truck reverse to head back down the narrow road. 

***

“Gardening? Really?”

“Don’t sound so impressed. Gardening might not be the right word. I want to keep plants alive. Baekhyun suggested I place them outside to add to my routine.” 

It was the first Saturday of March and Junmyeon walked with Jongdae past the first bend in the road, the house on the hill now out of sight behind them. Today they would be walking all the way to the main road. The anxiety was still there, still growing, but it wasn’t debilitating. The night before he had received an excited call from Yixing who had been given the clear to start properly dancing again. As long as there weren’t any unforeseen setbacks, he would be able to audition in May. 

“I think it’s a good idea,” Jongdae said. 

It was always amusing to watch him walking alongside him on the country road with what he insisted was his casual blazer. Junmyeon couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend in sweatpants or even jeans. Meanwhile Junmyeon shuffled along in an old sweater and corduroys. The path beneath began to slope up again. The main road was now just in sight.

“Next time I come over might be the last time for a little while that I can for sure keep the schedule we’ve been on,” Jongdae spoke up again once they’d reached the day's goal. Li Yin’s due date was in late April. To reach any pictures on his phone that weren’t of all the ultrasounds and home furnishings Jongdae had been spamming him with would be no small task. But this was all expected. In all the years he had known Jongdae, he had never seemed happier than he was recently. Even Li Yin seemed shocked.

“I know. We’ll play everything by ear.”

“But if you need anything, you always know you can call me. Li Yin understands. We should all support each other.” On the main road, three cars zoomed by not long after each other probably heading towards the orchards. That’s the only reason why anyone would come out this far.

“Focus on your family, Jongdae. You being a father makes me nervous. I’d feel too sorry for Li Yin if she ended up having to be a mother to all three of us.”

April would be here before they knew it. Jongdae didn’t need to mention the christening ceremony for it to linger in Junmyeon’s thoughts. If he weren’t able to attend, he knew his friend would be disappointed. Beside him, Jongdae pulled out a small pamphlet. 

“I checked out the website for Dopyeong Playhouse the other day and stopped by there on my way here today. It’s under new ownership,” he said pointing to the profiles on the back. “The people who were there when we were kids are long gone. Volunteer signups are open. Maybe it’s something you could try for the summer season.” 

Dopyeong Playhouse had been his first theatrical experience outside of school. He used to practically live there even when they weren’t actively producing a show. His favorite were the shows they’d put on for children. Hearing such an openly excited audience was always refreshing for him but once rumors about him started spreading, the small community theatre didn’t seem to want anything to do with him. From the pamphlet the place still looked mostly the same. It always struggled financially but the front seemed to have gotten a new paint job at some point in the past fifteen years. He handed the pamphlet back when he could feel his hands start to shake. Luckily, Jongdae didn’t seem to notice.

“I think keeping flowers alive and getting my own groceries will prove to be enough of a challenge to start. I’ll keep it in mind though. When I’m ready… I think that would be good. Thanks for letting me know about it.” By the time he finished speaking it was like all the air had left his lungs and couldn’t get back in. He looked up in the sky and breathed as deeply as possible. 

“Would you want to come to the store with me to pick out which plants you like? We could try that today. The outdoor market will be open.”

The place Jongdae was talking about was maybe a twenty minute walk along the main road. At this time of day it would be crowded but maybe not packed. The full opening for the season wouldn’t be until April when they’d have live music and activities for children. But they had been out for long enough and for the first time in a while Junmyeon could feel himself losing control of his breathing. 

“I uh…” He closed his eyes at the same time a truck drove by, clanking ast it bounced on the uneven road. A tree branch scratched his elbow. “I…”

“Junmyeon?” he could hear Jongdae said as he crouched on the ground. “. I’m sorry. We can go back. Let’s go back.”

Junmyeon swallowed, his ears ringing as he wiped the forming wetness out of his eyes. He didn’t want to see the way Jongdae was looking at him. Back at the house, Jongdae fixed him some tea when all Junmyeon wanted to do was be in bed. Eventually he was in bed, Jongdae letting him know that he’d be downstairs for another hour or so to research grocery delivery services. Once again, Junmyeon thought about the christening.

He wasn’t sure what brought on that day’s episode. He could blame it on the pamphlet but he’d been feeling off before that. Yixing came as always just after four but by then Junmyeon had managed to fall asleep. He felt terrible about it. He wanted to congratulate his young friend.

But maybe that was it. Maybe the people around him all seemed on the precipice of a great change and amidst all of that, something deep within him felt like once again he was in danger of being left behind. And if he was left behind, maybe that meant the past would somehow find a way to catch up with him.

***

Junmyeon sat like he often did curled up on his couch with his computer, a virtual volunteer form for the Dopyeong Playhouse open on the screen. He had no intention of filling it out but looked at the available positions: painting, carpentry, and costumes. Carpentry would meet on Wednesday evenings and Saturday mornings. The first show of the summer would be The Glass Menagerie followed by Our Town and then an original work by a recent graduate of Keimyung University.   

He had texted an apology to Yixing that morning and got a cheerful response with a picture of himself stretching in front of a studio mirror, his posture completely restored. The windows reflected in it showed a night sky. He hoped Yixing hadn’t stayed up practicing too late. When his phone buzzed he assumed it was another text from the dancer but when the buzzing didn’t stop he realized someone was calling him.

“Hello?” he said. 

“Hey bebe. Heard you were out of the nuthouse.” Junmyeon froze at the voice coming through his phone, his computer sliding off his lap and onto the burnt orange carpet. “It’s rude to not answer.”

Sometimes Junmyeon wondered if it was just him who was like this, promising with every fiber of his being that when the next inevitable storm came he’d weather it better and not repeat the same mistakes.

“Ye… yes. I’m o-out,” he stuttered, dread descending upon him like a tidal wave.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Junmyeon fought against the rapid tightening feeling in his chest, much worse than the day before, knowing he was failing when he felt himself breaking into a cold sweat.

“You broke up with me.”

“Are you in Seoul? Daegu?” And it was as if he could feel Taecyeon’s hands pressing down on him. He used to constantly feel his phantom touch even when the damaged skin he’d leave behind had healed. “Answer me.”

“Daegu. I’m in Daegu.”

“Of course. Back in that shack you grew up in, am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s too bad. I was hoping we could meet up. Are you… are you crying? You really miss me that bad?” Junmyeon slapped his hand over his mouth. He felt like Alice in Wonderland, like everything around him was growing bigger or maybe he was just shrinking. His eyes traveled towards the hallway closet, the one Jongdae had habitually checked a hundred times. “Say it. Say you miss me.”

“I… m-miss you.” 

“Of course you do. Cause you know I was right now. You realize you’re a ing crazy junkie and now you’re going to wire me the money you owe.”

“What money?” Taecyeon had a habit of twisting the truth, making up lies, leading Junmyeon through a maze of his own making oftentimes before he even realized he’d entered one.

“You think all that I got you was cheap?”

“I always gave you half my salary,” he said, not liking how he now couldn’t help from obviously sobbing. It took all his strength just to keep holding the phone, his mind telling him that things would only get worse if he ended the call. 

“Not after your folks croaked you didn’t. Whose stuff did you think you were overdosing on? Did you think I was being generous? If I really wanted you dead I would’ve done it myself.”

“H-how… how much?” he asked.

“Six million won should set us even.” It was a ridiculous amount, one Taecyeon had probably come up with randomly. He must be in some kind of trouble. That’s what he always used Junmyeon’s money for - getting himself out of trouble. 

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Did I say I was giving you a choice? You have three days. And if I don’t see it I swear to god I will find out where you live and break your skull. After all those years I had to put up with your you should be thankful this is all I’m asking for. Remember, nobody knows you as well as I do. Get what I’m saying?”

“Yes…” he whispered and the line went dead. 

Junmyeon’s phone fell from his hand as he started crawling towards the hallway closet. Pushing past hanging coats and piles of shoes his family had left behind, he grasped the loose corner of the carpet in the far back corner. Beneath it he lifted a broken wooden floorboard to pull out an unmarked medicine bottle with the name of a stranger on it. He was still crying. He couldn’t stop. He could hardly breathe. He tried pushing the cap down and rotating but his hands were shaking too much. 

Eventually it opened and he felt the familiar texture of the pills against his palm. He wasn’t thinking about Jongdae or Baekhyun or Yixing or his parents watching over him. None of them could truly understand what this was like. None of them knew him like Taecyeon. None of them should be judging him.