I tried my best to stay calm, holding my hands out, searching for at least something in the darkness to hold onto.

--

“Are we there yet, gege?”

“Not yet.” Came his deep voice.

Kris.

A deep colourful voice, a soft yet warm embrace as he leads me around the studio in near silence. I hear he is a good dancer too, but unfortunately I will never know.

“Luhan, we’re here. Oh, and there’s two steps to go up.”

I cling to his arm, letting myself be led by him, my eyes wide open but still unseeing.

He can never know how I feel. Never.

I first realized that I was attracted to Kris when I felt his hand in mine, as I sat next to him at the table. I can’t recall whether or not it was a round or square table. But details like this are trivial.

He had a deep voice, and when I reached for him he didn’t flinch as I ran my hands along his face, trying to place his features and remember them permanently underneath my steady hands. He was the only one that didn’t flinch. The rest did.

Oh how I was wrong, thinking that they had been told about my condition.

“Here we are.” He leads me to a seat and pushes me down. I assume the room is lined with glass mirrors like all the other rooms.

Tao assures me that my hair is perfect, and it is then that I realise we are up instead on a stage.

“Ready, Luhan?” The voice I recognize to be Lay’s. As always, there is something condescending about it.

What I don’t see is Kris’ annoyed and angry stare at Lay, challenging him to push further.

What I don’t see is the way that Kris looks at the other members for some confirmation that the tone in which Lay spoke was hurtful and unnecessary.

What I don’t see is Kris’ heart breaking just a little more.

I hardly have time to respond before I am swept away from the other members by one of the people backstage. As they place a microphone on me and make final touches to my outfit, I hear the roar of the crowd.

A few bars into the music to HISTORY and I begin dancing, ever so carefully placing my feet on the ground in movements to match the choreography we have been learning for so long.

It takes me longer to learn than the others. They all see the movements but I have to feel them, feel the pounding of my heart in my chest as the instructor tugs at my arm or kicks my legs apart so that I get the movements right.

Kris has complained before about this, but I dare not to. I’ve worked so hard to make it this far, and I’m not giving up just because of a little bullying.

It’s near impossible for someone like me to make it anywhere in life.

--

It’s raining, I feel it on my shoulders, I smell it in the air.

“It’s raining.” I note aloud. There is a chortle from somewhere next to me.

“Yes it is.”

Before conversation can continue I am shoved across and into a building. The coldness outside is taken over by an abrupt rush of hot air, sending shivers down my spine.

“Gege?”

There is no response. Instead, I am lead by people I have no recollection of into a new room that I will never see.

“What’s happening?” I ask, craning my ears for at least some kind of confirmation of my whereabouts.

As if in response, a rush of hands meets my skin. But they are abruptly pushed away.

“I’m so sorry, Luhan!”

It’s Kris.

“This airport was much more crowded than we expected. There are lots of fans!” I hear Tao’s voice, Chen is laughing from somewhere beside me.

“Yeah, we should be really happy!”

The boys assert their pleasure in our situation, but it is the deep voice of Kris that cuts through their playful, excited chatter.

“It was wrong of all of us to let you wander off.” He says, as if chastising the others. “We know your problem, so we need to be more careful.”

At his words I feel like a burden, like a small child that still hasn’t been taught to walk or balance. Like a piece of sand thrown into the ocean and tossed from side to side, becoming unrecognizable and lost in the swaying of the waves. A hopeless, pointless, burden of a child.

“I suppose we should sign a few things.”

Lay breaks the silence, his voice happy.

We all sit, and I find myself reaching forward onto the desk as Chen who is sitting on my left shoves pieces of square paper in my direction.

“Hurry up, Luhan.”

Xiumin. I try my hardest to sign each card as quickly as I can so that the line can continue moving in a steady fashion.

But it’s hard, and my nimble fingers aren’t quick enough.

--

“What’s it like, hyung?”

Chen.

“What do you mean?” I ask quietly.

We are all back at home. Well, as close to home as it gets. The six of us live together in our own apartment. Chen and Xiumin share a room, as do Tao and Lay, and then finally Kris and I.

It’s unnerving, sleeping in the same room as him. I listen intently, every night to the rhythm of his breathing. It begins fast, the steady rhythm that he has while he is dancing, and then slowly but surely it slows to a steady “thump thump”.

His heartbeat is all that I hear at night; it permeates the room. Well, that and maybe the scratching and hooting of an owl in the outside world.

“Luhan…?”

I feel a light poke on the nose, and I flinch at the unexpected touch.

“Yes Chen?”

“I asked, what is it like, you know… um, not seeing anything?”

His words are quiet, calculated. But there is nothing cunning about them. I feel his empathy towards me, and this makes me only slightly more comfortable in the silence of the room.

“Well, it is pretty dark,” I begin, twiddling my fingers together. “Dark and sometimes… upsetting.” I sigh and lean back, tilting my head to where I believe the sound of his voice came from.

“I mean… I won’t ever get to see you,” I tell him sadly.

What I don’t see is Kris’ overbearing stare directed at Chen for asking such a question.

What I don’t see is Kris looking down in aggravation.

What I don’t see is the way Kris’ lips curve downwards at the last few words I mutter, as if he shares my pain.

There is a tap on my shoulder, and a warm bowl is placed in my lap.

“Here, you’re looking pale, Luhan.” It is the usually quiet Tao that speaks, and I can feel the warmth in his voice.

“What? Did you cook for us, Tao?” I ask. It is odd for the maknae member of a group to cook, but I suppose Lay wanted a break for today.

“Yes.”

It takes a while for him to respond, and I assume it’s because he was nodding his head. Tao is still not used to having to verbalize every action that would have made perfect sense to someone who could see his physical movements.

Someone grabs my hand and places chopsticks in my curled up fingers.

“Here.”

As quickly as they come, they get taken away. Kris.

“Open.”

I open my mouth and allow myself to be fed by him. As always, he is careful with his movements, holding the bowl slightly closer than normally comfortable to my face so that none of the steaming broth can fall onto my small, fragile form.

I appreciate his gestures, really I do. But it kills me to know I can be such a burden to him.