“Life is like a race,” Junmyeon’s father had often said to him. “The gun goes off when you’re born and you keep going until you die with hopefully a few good people rooting for you along the way.” 

There were people in the world like his parents and Jongdae who would do their best to accommodate his various quirks. More than that, in his hometown everyone just sort of understood the way he was, likely helping him in many unsaid ways. But in Seoul things were different. Even in college the stages were much more massive and complicated than what his high school or Dopyeong Playhouse had offered with pits, fly systems, catwalks, and moving lights. It was exciting studying with those who were just as invested in their individual craft as he was. There were many early mornings and late nights. There was all the socializing during and in between as well. 

After returning from the army already out of sorts, school made his life even more fast paced with the added element of his upperclassmen years being highly erratic doing sets on one show while stage managing another while getting his dramaturgical requirement out of the way on yet another plus helping out in production on smaller projects faculty approached him about. Junmyeon produced good work, but keeping up with everyone else took its toll. He’d needed time to recharge but that wasn’t possible. That’s not how this business worked or how life worked. So in his third year of college he took a page out of the book of his peers. He started drinking. Just to settle the nerves. Just to keep his footing in the race. Because if he ever fell behind he knew deep down he’d never be able to catch up. 

On the first Monday morning of June, Junsu cleared off a desk in the theatre attic that Junmyeon hadn’t noticed before on account of the entire room being piled high with administrative clutter and forgotten props. Opening night for The Glass Menagerie was in six weeks in mid July with the opening of Our Town six weeks after that in late August and the original play written by a recent university graduate named Kim Kibum called Sunny Boy in late September right before Chuseok to close their season. The cast for the first show had already been selected and everyone would be meeting that night for the first rehearsal which Junsu explained would be taking place where he currently worked and where Junmyeon used to attend: Youngshin High School. 

“We’ll be moving very quickly,” Junsu explained. “I’ve sort of been the interim everything this past year which is why everything is chaos. The director will be there tonight. Her name is Lee Sunmi. And I’ll begin looping you in on my emails with the designers. The plots and script are here,” he said, fishing out a binder, “so review those today. I’ve made the production and rehearsal schedule for Menagerie so you can copy that general format for Our Town or mix it up if you think something else would work better. Those are in the binder too along with a contact list.”

The paperwork was all clear and familiar but already Junmyeon felt himself losing confidence. He hadn’t worked a single day in over a year trying to pick up the pieces he’d returned to Daegu in. He could take all the time he needed to do anything, to think through anything, to prepare himself for anything. The materials in front of him were familiar but also felt like they were from a different lifetime. 

He looked over rehearsals with the cast which would take place on Monday and Thursday nights as well as Saturday afternoons and the work calls for crew which would happen on Wednesday nights and Saturday mornings. It was designed to leave Tuesday nights, Friday nights, and Sundays open if they needed to jumpstart the build and rehearsal process for the next show or need extra calls for the current one.  

After Junsu took him down to the small scene shop he’d seen earlier and around back to a decent sized barn that at one point was probably organized in a specific way but now was filled with splintered wood and rusty nails. Along with everything else this summer, this would be his primary side project. But realistically he didn’t have all summer to do it. Junsu showed him the budget for all the productions combined and it was readily apparent that they’d need to use as many things already found in house as possible in order to not go over. That meant salvaging what he could and fixing it up enough that it would be safe for volunteers to handle… volunteers that would be arriving in only two days. 

By the time Junsu ran off to get to the high school in time to teach his class, Junmyeon was left sweating and his heart beating wildly. He sat down at his desk and decided to indulge a little in the water and crackers he’d packed for himself after a barrage of texts from both Yixing and Jongdae wishing him luck and telling him to take care of himself. 

“You’re ok,” he said to himself. “You’re ok, Kim Junmyeon.” 

It was easier once he calmed down enough to thoroughly take in the materials he’d been given and by the time morning became afternoon, he had located the keys to unlock the luckily empty dumpsters in the back, pulled on his work boots, gloves, and dove right in. It was similar to how he’d cleaned up his father’s old shed and it felt good to have purpose to his day. He got the email that confirmed the original blocking schedule was still a go for that evening from Sunmi. 

Dopyeong Playhouse was categorized as a “semi-professional theatre” which meant early career and local professionals mixed in with volunteers who wanted to pick up a hobby. In meeting the cast, he could recognize that they very much were of the former, Sunmi included. They hit the rhythms Junmyeon was familiar with and looked at him strangely when he would fumble over his words. The volunteers were the opposite. They were enthusiastic and unpracticed, students and retired elders. They asked questions and were very sociable, always wondering if he needed assistance with anything. The mixture of all the questions and the stares, he presumed, was the reason he paused longer and longer at his front door each day, the telltale sound of a new email notification pinging on his phone. By the beginning of his second week, emails were already coming in regarding Our Town. 

“You want a smoke?” Sunmi asked him one night three weeks in when they broke for ten. “You look a little stressed.”

The Glass Menagerie was what they called a memory play. The primary character, narrating from the present, looks back on relevant sections of their life in snapshots that typically lead up to a significant event. In this case, it was the primary character’s decision to leave his mother and sister behind while he set off to see the world just like their absent father. Whether you sympathize with the character or despise them, you leave knowing how they saw things, how they recalled their life.

In reality, when you were deep into something it was oftentimes hard to see the wider picture, see how certain things tended to repeat themselves. Junmyeon didn’t think of the choices he’d made in his third year of college when he accepted Sunmi’s cigarette or when he doubled up on his medication the following days in an attempt to not have to accept her offer again. He only thought about it later the next week when he ran out of meds four days early and recognized the tendrils of an anxiety attack creeping up on him mid conversation when three different people were asking him questions with a handful of others simultaneously sawing and hammering things behind him.

“Let’s take five,” he said as naturally as he could manage when a hauntingly familiar chill was spreading over his skin five weeks in. The laughter from his four actors ceased in a way that made him think he hadn’t succeeded.

“Make that fifteen,” Sunmi announced quickly after. She was the director. She could do that.

It was a Thursday night, rehearsal night. Tech week would begin on Monday and that following Friday was when they’d open. Eight days from today. Junmyeon put his head in his hands and took a deep breath but more and more he knew his heart would feel like it was trying to claw out of his chest. Sunmi sat beside him, offering him another cigarette as he’d used his last one at the beginning of the night. His first pack. Junmyeon took it.

His last appointment with Baekhyun had been on Tuesday. It’s also when he got to refill his medication. Baekhyun put into words what he didn’t want to admit out loud himself: that he’d never been the leader of a department or a production when he hadn’t also been self medicating to some degree, engaging in unhealthy and addictive habits. Baekhyun agreed to up his dosage just a little bit emphasizing that his current medication wasn’t like the benzos he’d gotten addicted to before, that these only worked when taken on a schedule rather than as needed. That’s why when he doubled up before, it hadn’t had the immediate effects that made such drugs so addicting in the first place… like nicotine. But at least nicotine wouldn’t get you fined, put in a ward, or arrested. Truthfully it didn’t help all that much but it felt better than doing nothing. 

Baekhyun had been correct in one thing though. Junmyeon had yet to lapse back into a full anxiety attack or more long term episode like the ones that used to happen constantly even when Jongdae so much as mentioned the possibility of taking a walk outside. It was the fear of having one in the first place that had him so worried and what could potentially push him over the edge if he didn’t take care of himself, Baekhyun had warned.  

“I can finish up here, you know?” Sunmi said once the actors had dispersed for their break. “Take the rest of the night off. Don’t come back until tech on Monday. I can email you any last notes or thoughts I have on Sunday afternoon.” She was sitting too close to him, keeping her voice in that hushed whisper that irritated his senses so he scooted his chair a little bit away. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh? I didn’t think I was.” Sunmi gave herself a light, apparently not caring that they were still inside a school building. “This isn’t the Seoul Ballet you know. We can relax here, take our time.” Junmyeon tensed even further at the words, his still unlit cigarette not feeling as reassuring in his hand as he knew alternatives would. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. If he could just pull himself together, concentrate, tough it out, then Junsu would have no reason to fire him. He couldn’t mess up this job. It’s all he had. It’s what Jongdae and Yixing had been so proud of him for. If he couldn’t handle something so simple as this, he had no place in the performing arts. 

“I’m fine,” he said, but he knew once he met Sunmi’s eyes through pure willpower to convince her that he really was fine that she hadn’t liked what she’d seen. 

“Let me put it this way. Whatever it is that’s going on right now I feel like it’s worth it for you to have a few days off to take care of it. Tech is still tech after all… even in a tiny place like this. We all need you at your best.”

Sunmi was older than him by two years. She had stated before that she liked to put on plays in interesting places rather than glamorous ones. She’d spent time producing in Seoul but abandoned it to bring theatre to smaller towns and villages and was now based in Daegu. 

“The blocking in the dinner scene needs work,” he argued.

“We can save that for tech.”

“They’re still a bit awkward with the props.”

“Tech.”

“But-”

“ Goodnight , Junmyeon. Take it easy, ok? I’ll text you,” she said and with that she waltzed out of the rehearsal space, fumbling for her wallet, likely heading back to the vending machine she liked so much. 

He shouldn’t overthink Sunmi’s intentions. The show was coming together well and everyone was happy. They had put the finishing touches on the set last weekend and the props turned out better than he’d expected. Scenic storage was mostly sorted. The greenroom was almost all removed of unnecessary clutter. Repairs and upgrades on the building were complete for the immediate future. He had fallen behind on emails a bit with Our Town but he hadn’t needed to be present for the audition process. That was all Junsu and the director. It’s the designers for that show he was falling behind with, the sight of his inbox or glowing phone making him queasy most days. 

If you fell behind you were done. You’d lost the race. That’s how this all worked. That’s how life worked. Sunmi knew that and so she was covering the rest of tonight’s rehearsal and all of Saturday night’s rehearsal with no complaints.  

Sunmi was doing him a favor. So why was he so devastated?

*** 

Junmyeon couldn’t get away from the school fast enough, the nearby tall apartment buildings quickly disappearing behind him as he pushed his bike as fast as it would go. He flew along the narrow local roads that weaved in and out from under the interstate until he was forced to pull over from that telltale frantic tightening in his chest.

“!” he shouted in frustration into the darkness, interrupting the nighttime crickets and fireflies. He zipped up his light jacket and sat on the side of the road tucked into himself, finally lighting the cigarette Sunmi had given him.  

Junmyeon sat there for a long time, long after the cigarette had run out and long after he managed to calm down. He sat there soaking in the resulting fatigue and refused to berate himself for shedding a few tears. Eventually, he reasoned, he needed to get home. It had been over an hour and in true local fashion not a single car had passed. He would go home, try to eat something, then sleep for a long time. It was best to capitalize on the time Sunmi had given him. He could catch up on his emails and do the exercises he’d been neglecting. Maybe he would start the day with a long bath and his favorite Batman cartoon series. What happened today didn’t have to be anything more than a small bump in the road. Those were bound to happen. No one ever promised him this would be easy.

When he got back on his bike again his mind was muddled but muted. The night breeze, he noted, distantly felt nice. That was a good sign, thinking the outdoors felt nice when it was dark and quiet and empty like this. 

In going up to his little house on the hill, he did not expect to see a familiar beat up old car or Zhang Yixing sitting on his doorstep. The prospect of facing people right now should be overwhelming or at least uncomfortable but Junmyeon didn’t feel either of those things. He just felt… surprised. The man stood up quickly, watching as Junmyeon’s bike kept moving to stop a certain distance away.

The time they used to spend together on Saturdays hadn’t happened since he went back to work. Junmyeon’s Saturdays were full now. They did discuss maybe having dinner together on Sundays but Junmyeon had been spending those days at work too doing organization and handiwork. After three weeks it had been Yixing’s suggestion that he work on resting more, the dancer not wanting to get in the way of that. It hadn’t been a charged or negative conversation. Yixing’s various texts and phone calls to him had persisted after that. But it was only two days later when Sunmi had offered him to smoke with her for the first time. He realized that once Yixing walked closer, his steps faltered when he got close enough to smell the odor of what he’d done. 

"Jongdae and I thought one of us should check up on you," Yixing said, looking hesitant for the first time on Junmyeon's property than he had in months. “We haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”

Had it been that long? Maybe it had. But it was his phone. It weighed heavy in his pocket but less so when he kept it on silent. He didn’t have to hear the notifications or feel the buzzing. He could just concentrate on what was in front of him. And when he did gather up the energy to check, his eyes went straight to notifications from show people. He had to stay focused. He had to keep up.  

"I'm sorry I caused concern." He wanted to say more but instead his hands only gripped tighter on the handlebars. 

"Was it something I said?" Yixing asked, immediately looking regretful for his phrasing. "I mean, the last time we spoke. Did I make you uncomfortable?"

The last time they spoke? It had been a phone call, one of those night ones Junmyeon enjoyed from the warmth of his bed, the kind that wouldn’t necessarily be filled with conversation but rather just the comfort of feeling like someone was there. Yixing had spoken about the time he’d been spending with Chanyeol and that they both hoped that maybe after Junmyeon’s first production was over that they could all go out together and celebrate. Then Yixing had talked about wanting to adopt a cat, wondering what Junmyeon’s experience had been like with his pet rabbit, wondering if Junmyeon personally liked cats. Junmyeon had been low energy that night, not by any fault of Yixing. Quite the opposite, he liked hearing Yixing’s voice and various comments. He liked being around Yixing. It felt good. He was just exhausted by everything else that had been going on, the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to handle it growing by the day. 

"No,” he said. Yixing waited for an explanation and Junmyeon was too tired to come up with a satisfying lie or deflection. "The sounds my phone makes were irritating me. I put it on silent and haven't really looked at it in a bit." Yixing nodded, trying to understand. 

"I see… Do you want to talk about it?" Junmyeon did his best to laugh. No matter how strung out he was, he didn’t want Yixing to feel like he wasn’t always welcome here. 

"Not really. But you can come in. How long have you been sitting out here?" 

“Only around half an hour,” Yixing said, relaxing a bit. “It’s nice to see you.”

Yixing walked with him to the backyard where Junmyeon put his bike away for the night and hadn’t even put his bag down in the living room when Yixing was rushing ahead of him.

"Sit!” Yixing said, gesturing to the couch. “I can make tea. Or… I want to make tea for you. Is that alright? What kind do you like in times like this?"

"Yixing…" Junmyeon hadn’t wanted his fatigue to show through his tone but it did, Yixing visibly deflating and becoming nervous again.

"I'm sorry. I told Jongdae I'd come. It took me a while to convince him that I could do it. But I don't know what to do. I'm not sure if I'm making things better or worse." 

Junmyeon stopped Yixing by tapping his slippered foot against Yixing’s matching ones that were always waiting for him whenever he came over. It was a gesture Yixing had introduced to their friendship at Hyejin's christening, one that balanced Junmyeon’s aversion to touch and Yixing’s craving for it. It helped Yixing be more reassured in their interactions and helped Junmyeon feel like he was making his own type of progress.

We're hopeless, he thought to himself as they both stood together embarrassed. Jongdae would laugh at us both. 

They ended up splitting the task. Junmyeon put the kettle on and Yixing chose the tea type. Chai. They sat in silence at the kitchen table but it was a good silence. It had caught him off guard at first, coming home to company. But now he was grateful for it, finding a bit of peace in his presence. 

He prompted Yixing to talk about the time they’d spent apart, mostly about how his dance practices were going with the company. Like Jongdae had probably encouraged the younger man to do, he watched Yixing check his fridge and cabinets, seemingly satisfied they were stocked just enough for him to not be seen as neglectful of his own health. 

“Can I ask how things are going with the show?” Yixing said once their cups sat empty. Junmyeon still pushed his along the table with his finger. 

“Sunmi told me to take the next few days off before we go into tech next week. Everything with the show is fine. It’s just me. I haven’t been feeling great. I haven’t been doing my best as a… presence. I think if I get a good day’s solid rest then take it easy over the weekend I’ll be in a better place.” Yixing nodded and fiddled with his empty cup a bit as well. 

“I think that’s a good idea. It’s amazing you’ve been able to really jump into things there but I’ve also been a bit worried, you know? I’m glad the show is in a place where you can rest a bit before it’s full speed ahead.” It’s the same conclusion Junmyeon had reached himself while sitting on the side of the road under the night sky. In his heart he was still upset but it did feel good to have a third mind make sense of it, the mind of a performer. Hopefully by the morning his heart would catch up and truly be at peace with all that had been transpiring. 

“I also brought extra clothes and things,” Yixing spoke up again. “I could stay over if you wanted me to. I’m perfectly fine on the couch. Jongdae and I thought that maybe you could use some company out here again.”

Normally his immediate reaction to such things was embarrassment and offense. He didn’t like the feeling of Jongdae pitying him and he didn’t like being seen as someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. It’s the same reaction he had when people at the ballet would try prying too much or the complete humiliation he’d felt while hospitalized. It was the core feeling behind the shouting matches he’d had with Jongdae over the past year. He didn’t want to do that to Yixing too and from the way Yixing stood stiff with bated breath told him that perhaps Yixing needed this just as much as he did. Perhaps Yixing living alone in his own apartment being thrown into the rhythm of training and rehearsals was also craving a comfortable presence. Maybe this is what he had meant when he said he looked forward to the two of them taking this journey together.

“I have a spare bedroom upstairs. There’s no need to sleep on the couch.”

It only occurred to Junmyeon as they made their way up the stairs that Yixing had never been on this floor before, not even to use the bathroom. He looked curiously into Junmyeon’s sleeping space, accepting a spare towel before insisting that he could figure out the rest on his own, urging Junmyeon to get into bed as quickly as possible. 

“Goodnight, Junmyeon,” Yixing said to him. It was the exact same words that Sunmi had said hours earlier but instead of feeling like his whole life was crashing in around him, it instead put him at ease, his body floating against floral sheets surrounded by lavender walls. 

***

Junmyeon woke up a few minutes before noon from a deep and dreamless slumber, squinting at the light that managed to flood the room even with his closed curtains. Still somehow feeling far from well rested, he ended up staying in bed falling in and out of consciousness until two in the afternoon, stretching out before finally going through the bloodrush of getting vertical again. He shuffled to the bathroom where a lengthy note was taped to the mirror.

Good Morning!

I had to leave a bit early to get to the studio on time. We wrap up at three. Jongdae said he would give me his spare key to the house and that you wouldn’t mind? Hopefully he’s right! But if you decide to go out today, do so knowing that I’m coming back and can get in just fine. 

I fixed some breakfast for you this morning. It’s in the fridge and you can heat it up whenever you wake up. I’ll be back around five depending on traffic. I left a new puzzle in the dining room that I think you might like. Don’t forget to get some sunshine today too! 

Yixing

Junmyeon’s face warmed at the gesture and he ate the rice and vegetables Yixing had made for him next to the ballet themed puzzle that was exactly where Yixing said it would be. After eating, however, he still felt sluggish and found himself back in bed with soft music coming from his record player for another hour until it occurred to him that he hadn’t checked on the guest room even though Yixing had already spent an entire night there!

The room where his grandparents used to sleep was never entered much so the amount of dust there was not surprising but no less embarrassing. Junmyeon quickly got to work changing the bedsheets and tidying up, opening the two windows there as wide as they could go to let the fresh air in and the smell of cleaning product out. It was only when he was nearly finished that he felt foolish. Yixing never said that he’d be spending another night yet here he was jumping in presuming that this was more than a one time thing. 

Still, he knew Yixing was returning after his dance practices. The least he could do was make dinner. His heart jumped in excitement when he heard an approaching vehicle but from the kitchen window he could see it was just the mail truck, a stranger rushing over to deposit the day’s junk mail. By the time the sputtering of Yixing’s car could be heard instead, the soba noodle soup was ready. What he didn’t expect was for Yixing to walk through the front door with a potted plant in one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. 

“I’m back!” Yixing announced loudly, his vision blocked by the large green leaves and budding flowers. Junmyeon rushed over to take it from him.

“What’s all this about?” he asked. Yixing seemed to inspect the state of him, likely seeing the active kitchen behind him. 

“I was planning on making us dinner but it seems I’m too late,” he said. “Feeling good today?”

“Better. I didn’t get out of bed until two and I still took a nap after that. Dinner is the least I could do to repay you for everything.”

“And here I was getting this plant for your room as a thank you for letting me stay over. I thought it would look nice with the glimpse I got of it yesterday.” With all the house plants Yixing owned himself, his thought pattern wasn’t surprising. Despite mentioning a while ago that he’d try gardening as a hobby, Junmyeon had yet to stick his hands into any soil.

“No need to thank me. I only realized today how dusty it was in there. I’m sorry.” Yixing waved him off and they put the groceries away together before settling down around the kitchen table just like they’d done the night before except this time Junmyeon felt better, more alert, more ready to engage Yixing the way his friend deserved. 

“I’ll never say I don’t like dancing, but I will say that I don’t like certain choreography.” Yixing said it with a grimace while laying out on the carpet after dinner, embarking on a familiar stretching routine. “I never know if it’s just in my mind that my injury is acting up or if it’s real. Either way, I don’t think I’m at my best and the piece we’re learning right now is brutal. I can’t wait for you to see it.” Junmyeon quirked an eyebrow at the odd ending to Yixing’s thought. He really was a performer at heart. 

“Do you need ice?” he asked.

“Probably… yeah, probably. That would be good.” Yixing accepted the bag of ice graciously, face relaxing when he finally got settled with it on the couch. He seemed rather interested in the evening news so Junmyeon didn’t move to change it to the cartoon channel. He always liked watching animation the most, especially when the storylines were straightforward and usually had a core lesson or moral. He fidgeted a bit in his chair, deciding to speak during a commercial break.

“I cleaned your room while you were gone. Dusting, sheet changes, stuff like that. I only realized once I was near done that I didn’t know if you were planning on staying again?” Yixing looked over at him, hesitant. 

“I was actually wondering how I could ask. I wanted to stay over again tonight if that’s alright? I don’t have to go into the studio at all this weekend. With the time you have off I thought we could… maybe do things together… if you want to? The orchard maybe. Or if not we could just spend time here. I’ve missed your company. But I also know you wanted to rest. I can be quiet. You won’t even notice I’m here!” Yixing’s words made Junmyeon fill up even more with the good feeling being around Yixing always gave him. 

“You’re always welcome here. I’m sure glad I cleaned up! Maybe on Sunday we could check out the orchard to make up for me not going outside at all today. Tomorrow I’ll probably want to stay in though. Catch up on work. Rest some more.”

“Thank you. I’m always worried I’ll come off as too overbearing. Chanyeol makes fun of me for it. I was hanging around his shop so much while you were busy...” It was the same sentiment Yixing had only half put into words at the very beginning of their friendship the first time he’d ever stayed for dinner. Junmyeon decided that seeing Yixing so relaxed in his home was one of his favorite things and just like Jongdae knew this house like his own, maybe Yixing would someday be the same.

Later in the night when they were both dressed for bed, Junmyeon shyly showed Yixing the various diagrams for the shows he was doing, the dancer trying to visualize the sets in his mind. Unlike the various videos Yixing would send him, it was rare Yixing actually saw anything of what Junmyeon did aside from early progress photos of the storage shed. 

“It’s the designers for this I hope to catch up with tomorrow. They’re no doubt irritated with my slow responses.”

“I can only imagine what it’s like to get so many emails. I don’t even have a work email. The director usually just texts the company information.” Junmyeon responded with a yawn and Yixing chuckled. “Look at me. I said before you wouldn’t even notice I’m here but I’m already keeping you up late.”

“I was already asleep most of the day. I guess I was just more worn out than I thought I was…” Yixing helped him gather everything back into the production binder and made a show of peeling back the bedcovers, gesturing for Junmyeon to get in. “Are you my mother now?” Junmyeon asked. 

“Think of me as your teammate.”

Junmyeon mulled over the word choice, leaning back into the pillows. Yixing stayed at the end of his bed, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Teammate, huh?” Junmyeon said quietly. “Like in tennis.” 

“Ha! Maybe. Or just… in life. Teammates in life.” Yixing laughed nervously. Junmyeon felt his face warm. 

“Yixing?” he began, curiously, but the dancer cut him off.

“Forget I said anything. I’m just being silly. See you in the morning?” Junmyeon’s hands twisted in the sheets. 

“Yes. I’ll make breakfast this time. And Yixing?’

“Yes?”

“I missed you too. These past weeks. Thank you for being here with me.” The smile returned to Yixing’s face.

“Anytime. Goodnight.”