SEND TO: King JD

Are you awake?

3:52 AM

All of Jongdae’s extended family lived in Cheongdo County so at seven years old when his cousin died suddenly, that is where he went. It was the only time growing up when he hadn’t been around for Junmyeon’s birthday. Even then, he still took the time to call.

(1) MISSED CALL FROM KING JD

5:01 AM

Jongdae had been very close to his cousin but even when his parents packed up the car on that unusually sweltering day in May, he hadn’t cried. Maybe it was because Junmyeon was doing all the crying for him, both of their parents shocked by his palpable distress. For someone as quiet as Junmyeon, no one expected such an audible outpouring of empathy. 

(2) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD

5:03 AM

Jongdae had extended a hand, a gesture he always jokingly likened to how he might reach out to a frightened animal. Junmyeon was always thankful for it. He was never very good with physical contact. But on that occasion he’d reached out and grabbed Jongdae’s offered hand with both of his own, squeezing it tight, the strange feeling of flesh on flesh not making him as uneasy as it would have otherwise since he’d initiated it himself. It would be years before Jongdae would admit how much better that had made him feel. 

(3) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD

5:08 AM

MESSAGE FROM: King JD

I called an ambulance. I’m on the way.

5:08 AM

Jongdae had always been responsible, always weathering the storm. His parents had risked everything moving to Daegu. They’d wanted their son to be closer to more opportunities. They’d had some troubles, of course. Even by local standards they didn’t have much in the way of wealth at the beginning. Regardless, it made sense he’d grow up with a knack for business and budgeting. When he’d left Daegu to begin college in Seoul, he did so knowing he’d return someday. Daegu is where Jongdae wanted his life to be. Junmyeon could never say the same but he was never asked to, either. 

(4) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD

5:11 AM

(1) NEW VOICEMAIL

5:11 AM

After Junmyeon was hospitalized he’d given Jongdae full access to all of his accounts and finances. Between heavy fines for the abuse of prescription medications, several weeks of inpatient treatment, and now close to a year of unemployment, he didn’t have much left. He had the remaining money his parents had left behind and the house as his only assets. If it weren’t for Jongdae taking care of things, he’d be in trouble in more ways than one.

(5) MISSED CALLS FROM KING JD

5:16 AM

Pyeongwang-dong was a quiet neighborhood, so quiet that the sound of an ambulance probably alerted many to something happening amiss at the little house on the hill. Junmyeon could imagine how the emergency lights had lit up the trees and shrubs. People would talk. They always did around here. 

“I’m Kim Jongdae, the one who called. I’m also his registered emergency contact.” There was a pause and Junmyeon could picture his friend digging out his identification. “Is he alright?” 

Jongdae’s voice came in clearly from the front door back to the living room where Junmyeon sat hunched in his father’s old favorite chair by the window. It was a dark purple velvet clashing with the burnt orange rug and the fraying red threaded ottoman. Jongdae always said that the most normal thing about this space was the family portrait hanging on the wall and even that wasn’t quite normal with the rabbit looking more comfortable in the photo than the child holding it. 

“Kim Go-eun, EMT. He has a minor concussion from falling out of the shower. At some point before we got here he vomited but has shown no further signs of nausea. We administered a mild tranquilizer and conducted a basic psych evaluation. He’s not an immediate danger to himself or others but was very adamant about not coming with us.” There was a pause and then the woman’s voice resumed quiet enough so that Junmyeon could no longer overhear. 

It was nearing six on a Monday morning, the time Junmyeon knew his friend would always be exercising before work. Far away from here, Taecyeon was probably just going to bed. In a couple hours the banks would open and everything Junmyeon had left would be wired from his account to a bank in Seoul. He knew just the one. He’d waited in the car outside of it while Taecyeon had gone in multiple times over the years on those early morning drives after long nights that Junmyeon could only ever half remember. 

But now once Taecyeon had what he wanted, he’d leave him alone for good. Junmyeon knew that he was of no value to the older man anymore. He was far away from Seoul, broke, and no longer actively addicted to what he was providing. To Taecyeon he would be nothing but an irritating man who would cry too much when touched. He also wasn’t as young as he used to be. It’s not like Taecyeon wasn’t being intimate with others the entire time they’d been together either. The only thing different about Junmyeon was how dependent he was on him, how lost he’d been.

What hurt the most right now was that despite all the progress he’d made with Baekhyun and within himself over the past three months, just the sound of Taecyeon’s voice had tugged him right back into the place he never wanted to be again. Maybe if he were someone else he’d be stronger. But he wasn’t. He was just Junmyeon. He’d always just been Junmyeon and knew the second he heard Taecyeon’s voice he’d give him whatever he wanted, his whole body tuned to react like it had no other choice. It was pure luck he’d only wanted money. Jongdae wouldn’t understand any of this. Of course Jongdae wouldn’t understand what Taecyeon showing up at his door would do to him if he refused. 

That’s why when everything was settled he would sit Jongdae down and tell him all that happened. Then he could be more like his friend in taking the next step on whatever his journey would be. He knew he would never willingly sell the house even if it would solve all the financial troubles he was about to be in. But as of now the house was filled to the brim with things that didn’t belong to him, things he’d never use, or things he knew would go for a good price if he sold it in the right place so that is what he planned to do while starting to look into simple or part time work. 

Jongdae would be proud of him eventually. His friend would never have to know about the pills he’d hid from him for months, not even the ones he’d taken then expelled from his body earlier that night by choking on his own fingers. He wouldn’t tell him about all the ways he’d thought about hurting himself. Jongdae would be able to rely on and trust him again after disappointing and worrying him for so long. And Yixing… he would cheer the dancer on with everything he had. So despite appearances and despite all he was feeling at this moment, today was a happy day. Today he could finally start moving forward for real instead of just pretending like there hadn’t been a monster under his bed this entire time, since the moment Taecyeon’s eyes had met his from across the room. After this, what more could Taecyeon take from him that he hadn’t already? 

The floor creaked as Jongdae and the primary medic made their way down the hall to the living room. Junmyeon kept his head down and wrapped the blankets they’d given him tighter around himself. His hair and clothes were still wet, the dampness no doubt seeping into the old and worn velvet upholstery. 

“Junmyeon, do you know this man?” the medic asked him, leaning down so she was at his ear level.

“Yes,” he said.

“Who is he?” she asked. 

“Kim Jongdae.”

“Are you alright with us leaving you with him?”

“Yes.”

The woman stood up to her full height and offered Jongdae a few simple parting words. As soon as they were alone, Jongdae quickly moved across the room sitting himself down on the ottoman. His friend reached out a hand between them, an invitation that Junmyeon understood far more now than he had that sweltering day long ago in Jongdae’s driveway. For Jongdae, touch felt good. When he was scared or confused, something like this reassured him. If Junmyeon were anyone else he maybe would’ve understood this naturally but he didn’t for a long time. In this way and many other ways, the two of them had their own way of communicating a lot of things.

Jongdae’s hair was messy, his eyes red, and the nightclothes he was wearing disheveled. Junmyeon accepted his offered hand, thumbs smoothing over the skin of his palm to let Jongdae know first through touch that he was alright. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen Jongdae out in public like this, so far from looking all put together. Maybe during middle school gym class. But that was different. This was different.

“What really happened, Junmyeon?” Whatever composure he had pulled together for the EMT crumbled then and Junmyeon held his hand tighter even with his friend’s skin feeling increasingly unnerving. “I thought… well… I don’t know what I thought. Or I guess I don’t want to say what I thought.” As usual, Jongdae avoided stating the unpleasant. 

“I just got spooked. Couldn’t calm myself down all night. I tried to run a bath like you do but the shower instead. It just seemed so loud… I got disoriented I suppose. Got caught on the curtain and fell. Hit the countertop pretty hard on the way down,” Junmyeon said. “It was all an accident. I’ll talk to Baekhyun about it.”

“Accident…”

“It’s not like the other times. I’m clean and everything,” Junmyeon assured him again even though he knew by this point Jongdae didn’t trust him as much as he probably thought he did. “But now I can lay down for a while. I can get myself to bed. You should go back home so-” 

“I’m not going to work today. If your concussion symptoms get worse I’ll need to take you to the hospital. I can handle all of my affairs remotely. My briefcase is in the car.”

None of the strain had faded from Jongdae’s voice so Junmyeon did not complain when his friend guided him upstairs. All while getting settled, Jongdae’s mind seemed to be elsewhere whether that be work, his eight month’s pregnant wife, or any of the other things he no doubt juggled on a daily basis under his calm exterior. It kept the dip in his brow and the tension in his shoulders as the gears in his brain turned. Junmyeon could tell he wanted to ask more questions. Nonetheless, Jongdae said nothing. 

***

Junmyeon curled in on himself beneath the covers, his mother’s journal resting beside him. Like the medic had said and like what Jongdae reiterated, trying to read it caused both a throbbing and splitting sensation in his head but over the past several weeks he had grown to just like its presence. Like this it is the first thing he saw that day whenever drifting in and out of sleep, nerves frayed but not enough to allow him a deeper or more consistent slumber.

Downstairs he could sometimes hear Jongdae moving around, the muffled sounds of him talking on the phone in what he internally referred to as his friend’s “business voice.” Every couple hours he would come upstairs to check on him but Junmyeon had only been awake for some of the visits. Otherwise he could just realize that the glass of water by the bed had been refreshed next to the off the shelf pain medication untouched and centered on a napkin. 

The closed curtains prevented any direct rays of sunlight from irritating him but the room was still far from being completely dark. At one point he reached over to his bedside table to take the batteries out of the clock that rested there, the ticking sounding more to him like a power drill. He flinched every now and then at Taecyeon’s phantom touches, fists closed tight as he told himself it wasn’t real, breathless by the time the feeling finally ebbed away. The last thing he remembered before finally falling into a more proper sleep was staring at the crack on the lavender wall as he often did in his many days of solitude. At last, his body exhausted itself enough for him to melt into the soft mattress. 

When he next woke up it was dark outside and Jongdae was fiddling with a lamp in the far corner with one hand and balancing a tray of food with the other. 

“Hey,” he said, settling down on the other side of the bed. “Feeling any better?”

“I’ve been in bed all day but am still this tired,” Junmyeon said groggily. “My head feels better though. Thank you.”

Jongdae waited until he sat all the way up before placing the tray down on the covers. There were two bowls of ramen and two bowls of fruit. No doubt Jongdae had been working all day and was tired himself but he still looked far more refreshed than he had been first thing that morning. He seemed relaxed. Happy.

“The medic said it might be like this for the first day or two. In a couple weeks everything should be back to normal. Yixing left those for you, by the way. Came by after his shift in probably the most… interesting car I’ve ever seen.” Junmyeon turned around to where Jongdae was pointing and noticed that his dismantled clock had been pushed aside for a small vase he hadn’t seen since he was a kid filled with red geranium flowers. Then he remembered that it was Monday. He’d missed Yixing’s mail delivery just like he had on Saturday and the thought made him oddly almost upset. He had yet to be able to congratulate him in person on his return to the dance studio, only cheering him on via text. 

“You should’ve woken me up,” he said, running a finger over the flower petals. “I would’ve come down.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t. Seems like the neighborhood has been gossiping as per usual and filled his head with all sorts of ridiculous things about you. He was relieved to hear you weren’t in the hospital and hadn’t lost any limbs.”

Gossip. Junmyeon could only guess what kind and frowned as the possibilities started becoming more exaggerated in his head. “I guess that’s it then,” he muttered. “Now he knows I’m strange too.” Jongdae sighed.

“Everyone’s at least a little strange, Myeon. You, me, and definitely Yixing. He seems like the type who would sooner fight the whole neighborhood than say anything bad or misleading about you. Now eat. You’ve been dodging food from me all day.”

Junmyeon thought back to how his teenage self would’ve been so nervous in a situation like this with Jongdae’s hair still tousled and gel-free from that morning, glasses perched on his nose, nightshirt crooked on his shoulders, and looking so relaxed sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him. It was the type of image that had manifested in his mind the more he became an outcast, the more Jongdae became his lifeline. But that was over a decade ago. Now his confusing longing for his friend, the type he slowly realized could not fit neatly into any sort of box, had settled into an everlasting fondness, respect, and admiration. Now he knew he couldn’t satisfy Jongdae the way Li Yin could, Taecyeon the way glamorous performers could, or anyone for that matter. He didn’t have the right to long for anyone. 

At least when it came to Yixing, the quiet conversations they’d have with each other were like lazy ocean tides washing over his feet. In each talk he had with the dancer, he worried endlessly that he would offend him or otherwise put him off but that feeling had faded a bit over time. The fact that Yixing had confided in him about his medical situation and hopes for the future had made him soar with happiness, left him feeling good all through the night and into the next day as Yixing’s once more sporadic texts increased in frequency and enthusiasm. It was like the seed planted on that winter day had sprouted and was on the cusp of blooming into something that could… mean a lot. For all the time he’d spent living in the world of performance, he had yet to make a friend there. But Yixing was different, special, or as Jongdae said: strange.  

“Where’s my phone? I want to thank Yixing for the flowers,” Junmyeon said as Jongdae stacked the dishes back on the tray and placed it on top of the dresser. 

“My dear adult friend, you have a concussion. Usage of phones or any other screen can wait for a couple days. The goal is for us to not have to make any special trips to the emergency room this year.”

Junmyeon stretched his body like a cat, only remembering those specific instructions after the question had left his mouth. He moved to sit so that his feet touched the ground, his shoulders hunching as he gazed at the closed curtains. The bed dipped again when Jongdae walked over to sit next to him, the silence between them seemingly comfortable. This horrible day was coming to an end. Tomorrow Junmyeon would begin to tackle the consequences.  

“I need to have a difficult conversation with you, Junmyeon,” he said after some moments. “It’s one that I didn’t want to have for another few days when I was sure you were feeling better but… I also don’t want all you’ve got bottled up inside of you right now to fester any longer than it needs to. That alone could be even more detrimental than me not saying anything.”

Jongdae, even after all these years, managed to be the smartest person Junmyeon had ever known. He never boasted about it. Jongdae was as humble as he was loyal so of course he knew. It seemed foolish now to think he wouldn’t. How could he not know that Junmyeon had been hiding so much from him? How would that make Jongdae feel? Just like that, Junmyeon’s stomach dropped, his chest turned cold, and the discomfort in his head began to sharpen. 

“Earlier today,” Jongdae began again, “Taecyeon and a number of his associates were arrested.”

“What?” Junmyeon said. It was as if all of a sudden the entire world had fallen away as he stared into the face of his friend that held a mixture of emotions he couldn’t identify. 

“Taecyeon was brought in for a number of charges in association with drug trafficking, gambling, and aggravated assault. When those investigators came to speak to us when you were in the hospital, I got their contact information. By calling in some favors, I’ve been able to somewhat keep up with how the case against him, but more so those he associated with, was progressing. Taecyeon must’ve known they were onto him. He’d… he’d need a lot of money to make bail, to pay people off. I…” Jongdae hesitated again briefly. “I get automatic notifications when any of your accounts are touched. I know you sent him money last night. With the timing… I figured what happened. I managed to stop the wire before the request was processed by the other bank. Taecyeon’s accounts have since been frozen. I didn’t want to tell you anything for your health. You’ve honestly been getting so much better these past weeks and I didn’t want you to worry about what was going on since you moved back here even though there hasn’t been much to tell until recently. Point is, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s gone.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand what you’re saying to me.” Junmyeon stood up slowly, steading himself with the ledge of the nightstand. “That’s not possible…”

“He’s only a man. He’s not above the law. We’re talking twenty years to life in prison. Even if he did try to come after you or me, I have friends in high places. I don’t work all the time for nothing, you know. Some people would even say I’m important,” Jongdae said with a hesitant grin while Junmyeon walked the few paces needed to sit in the rocking chair next to the bedroom window, bewildered but not panicked. “He called again this morning, by the way, with more empty threats which confirmed everything I’d expected. That three day deadline he gave you? He called trying to change it because he probably knew something was going on. I made sure to say exactly what I thought about him. I also recorded the whole exchange in case the investigators ever come asking for it.”

Junmyeon brought his hands to his face as his vision began to blur briefly. How could things end like this? How could Jongdae be telling the truth? 

“Don’t… d-don’t lie to me,” he said as he began to cry into his hands. This couldn’t be real. He could feel Jongdae moving again to be next to him, a cool evening breeze coming through the window he must’ve cracked open. Junmyeon wiped at his eyes to turn and look out into the night, the stuffiness of the room he hadn’t noticed before dissipating. 

“He’s a real piece of and he’s never going to hurt you or anyone else ever again. He deserves everything that’s coming to him if not more. He’s not going to take your money and he’s not going to come to your home. That world out there? He’s lost the privilege to be in it. That world is for you. I won’t be the brother that sits by while someone ruins your happiness ever again. I regret nothing I’ve done as it relates to making sure that man stays out of your life for good.” 

Fondness. Respect. Admiration. In the five years Taecyeon had been part of his life, Jongdae had all but disappeared from it. He’d shut him out and said horrible things to derail their lifelong friendship. The funeral for his parents had been the first time he’d seen Jongdae in so long and while his friend had immediately been able to pick up on how much he had changed and the probable reasons why, Junmyeon still knew little of the life behind the pressed shirts, gelled hair, and polished shoes that should’ve never known the little dirt roads of their insignificant neighborhood. He knew little of the man Jongdae was when he was not with him. He had failed as a friend and as a brother and had lost so many years trying to find his way. But they were still here. The two of them were still here and maybe now Junmyeon could begin to learn of all he had missed. 

“I love you, Jongdae. I really do,” he whispered.

“I know. I’ve always known.”

***

Baekhyun managed to make himself available to come out and meet with Junmyeon the next day. Jongdae used the opportunity to drive back home, get proper clothes, and spend time with Li Yin with the promise that he’d be back after dinner. Nothing had changed with Junmyeon’s status in a way that warranted a hospital visit. His fatigue was still there and light sources in general still made his head hurt, but Baekhyun was fine with sitting in the dim dining room and speaking more softly than he would normally. 

“I really thought I was going to hurt myself. I was scared. That’s why I texted Jongdae when I did. I had this… narrative in my mind, I guess, that Taecyeon would be walking in at any moment. I thought about which knives I had in the kitchen and if it would be better to attack him with it or use it on myself. I could feel him doing things to me and then it’s like I was there. It’s like all those things were happening to me again and I couldn’t get it to stop,” he said watching as Baekhyun fiddled with the medicine bottle in his hands on the other side of the table.

Junmyeon had shown him the hiding place beneath the carpeting in the closet that Jongdae thankfully remained knowing nothing about. Something told him Baekhyun was used to seeing such things as he only directed him to sit down so they could talk about it together instead of looking shocked or upset. 

“Did you feel that any of the techniques we’ve been working on helped during that time?” Baekhyun asked. Junmyeon shook his head.

“A little bit. Enough, I suppose. But also not much.” Baekhyun smiled at him.

“That’s better than no impact whatsoever. Let’s talk through that.”

When Baekhyun left his home that day, he took the pills he'd hidden for so long with him. Junmyeon bit back excuses for Baekhyun not to as he walked the man out to his car. It had been a comfort knowing that the medication was there if he really needed it even if the call from Taecyeon was the only time he had felt in such a state to actually get to that point. But along with lifestyle changes, Baekhyun assured him that there were many alternative medications they could try at much lower doses that could help him transition better into interacting with the world again. Junmyeon said he’d think about it.

After Baekhyun’s departure, Junmyeon chose to sit on his front step, adjusting his sunglasses as he tapped his feet eagerly. It wouldn’t be long until Yixing would arrive with his few pieces of daily junk mail and even though he still felt sluggish and overwhelmed, he had so much he wanted to say and so much he wanted to hear. In the days since he’d last walked down the narrow pathway with Jongdae, flowers had blossomed in the trees and the sun felt warmer on his skin. 

This was his home and he was determined to honor it and all it represented by pushing himself, by continuing to live, by getting back to the people and things that made him happy. And when he could hear the telltale sound of Yixing’s truck navigating its way up the hill, Junmyeon recognized the pleasant chill that ran through him. It was anticipation, the type he could feel from an audience right before the curtain lifted.