Picture Of You

Is this real?

My fingers trace his frozen, pained features.

This can’t be real.

His torso is sticky, and it isn’t red wine staining his light blue t-shirt.

This can’t be happening.

The dark pavement under his lanky frame is warm and slick.

This isn’t happening.

The car is overturned in the background, and spectators stop and stare; traffic is quite backed up now.

What is this?

Hands are trying to pull me from him, and they succeed.

“Get him to the hospital, he’s lost too much blood—“

Lights are flashing; blindingly bright, blue, white, and red.  Everything around me is drowned out by the desperation of my own voice. Kyuhyun-ah . . . How is our Kyuhyun? No, no . . . See to him first, not me, I’ll be okay. I’m okay. Kyuhyun-ah . . .

Slowly, my vision comes into focus. My body hurts, and I realize that my vision is only half of what it usually is. I touch my face. There are bandages.  I look at the hand that touched my face; there are bandages there, too. I shift slightly to stretch into an upright position, but find it painful to do so. As I continue to shift, I notice two weights on my body; one on my other arm and one on my abdomen. Readjusting myself again, I see little Ryeowook fast asleep on my arm and the lunch boxes he must have packed stacked neatly on my stomach. Gently, I shake him.

“Ryeowook-ah, Ryeowook-ah,” I call him. He awakes at once and rubs his swollen eyes; he must have been crying.

“Hyung?” He blinks. “Teukie-hyung!” Oh no. Our little maknae is crying again; Jongwoon might kill me . . .

“I’m okay, there, there now.” I pat his back and embrace him like I remember my mother doing for me when I was a little boy. I ruffle his dark hair, waiting for his sobs to lessen before speaking again. “Ryeowook-ah, what happened? Where is Hyukjae? Donghee? How is Kyuhyun?”

Ryeowook’s small, pale face rapidly lost the little color it had. “Hyung. You were in a car accident,” He stammered with the sobs returning. “Eunhyukkie-hyung and Shindong-hyung are okay, they’re in another room and Donghae-hyung is with them right now.”

“Where is Kyuhyun?” My throat feels constricted, like I’m being strangled as fear dances somewhere deep in my gut.

“K-kyuhyunnie is in critical condition a-and,” the boy says between sobs. “And th-they said that . . . they s-said that h-he will. . .” It wasn’t very coherent, but there is no way that Ryeowook said “die soon.” As if. That evil maknae? Die? I don’t think so, or at least not in my lifetime.

That evening, I was lying on my bed, on top of pristine white covers with my mind going from furious to hurt to numb and back. I stared at the open book in my hands, flipping its pages every now and then, but none of the words mattered. Eunhyuk, Donghae, and Sungmin are sitting on the floor next to my bed and playing a noisy game of cards.

“Hyung . . . hyung . . . Teukie-teuk-hyung . . .”

I sighed and pretended not to hear them. This was the fourth time in the last hour or so that the EunHae couple has pestered me on this subject of the new member.

“Ya, Park Jungsoo!”

I’m not sure what happened, but I felt something inside me snap; blood was pounding in my ears. My eyes shoot from Sungmin to Donghae to Eunhyuk and back again. Sungmin holds a black-belt in some form of martial arts and Donghae regularly visits the gym and can hold his own against our Kangin in boxing. My eyes settle on Eunhyuk as he suddenly bursts out laughing with his gums showing and I feel myself flying off my bed to grab him by the collar.

“Hyung, sorry, hyung—“Eunhyuk wheezed.

Realizing what I was doing, I quickly let go.

“Sorry . . .” I murmured, turning around and lifting the sheets. I lay down and cover my face. “Sorry kids, Teuk-hyung is very tired right now, can you guys leave?” I heard some shuffling and Donghae softly comforting Eunhyuk. I hear the door click gently behind them and sigh. Why another member? I want our generation as Super Junior ’05, our time-- our family as twelve-- to last at least a little bit longer. I feel a tear roll down from the corner of my eye, and a bitter curse escapes from my lips.

“Hyung.”

I freeze. Sungmin was still in my room. He pulls my hand out from under the sheets and squeezes it tightly.

“It’ll be okay, because you’re our one and only leader.”

He releases my hand and the door clicks behind him, too.

Super Junior ’05 and I walk down the hall to meet this new member who will likely replace one of us. We wore poker masks, but our hearts are all the same; we all already hate this boy who is coming to destroy our group. We stop before Chairman Lee Soo Man’s office, steeling ourselves for the death sentence. I knock once, twice; my knuckles wanting to explode with each rap on the door. His secretary opens the door and we greet our teacher.

The chairman is seated at a large desk in front of an even bigger window. The sky outside is sapphire blue, almost as if it is mocking us, and the sun shone brilliantly outside behind the old man. My eyes dart over to the young man playing a handphone game seated to the chairman’s left. Contempt and temper threaten to have me thrown out of the building as the young man hastily rises and greets me with a slight bow. I struggle to maintain my composure and smile.

“Teacher, you called us here today?” I ask.

"Ah, Jungsoo, you’ve all been well, I hope?” He motions me over and rises to shake my hand and clap my back. He looks at each one of my members, and they force smiles on their faces. I hear Youngwoon grind his teeth next to me, hesitating before assuring teacher that he was well.

“This is Cho Kyuhyun; he will be joining you for ‘U.’ Kyuhyun-ah?” There it was. The executioner and death sentence for Super Junior ’05. “Please take good care of your new dongsaeng.”

“Yes, teacher,” we reply nonchalantly.

And the twelve of us left the office with Kyuhyun silently trailing behind. Splitting the team into two vans, I sicced the new maknae on Hankyung, Yesung, Kangin, Eunhyuk, Donghae, Ryeowook, and Kibum. Heechul probably will kill me later for separating me from his roommate, Hankyung, but I wanted a quiet ride home.

I stare blankly out the window. Why is our time together suddenly coming to an end? My eyes begin to water and I just want to scream. I bite a nail and whisper a curse.

“Jungsoo. Earth to special-space alien Jungsoo.” I ignore Heechul and regret it a second later. He slaps me across the face and the loud sound seems to echo through the van, waking up Siwon and Sungmin.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Siwon asks Heechul, his shocked eyes moving from Heechul to me and back.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep, Siwon,” Heechul snaps.

Siwon opens his mouth to ask again, but a manager stops him and Shindong says,

“Siwon-ah, you know Heechullie-hyung will just get angrier if you keep asking. Just leave them alone.”

I feel Sungmin’s eyes boring holes into the back of my head, but I ignore him. I really don’t want to talk to anyone right now.

Back at the dorms, we all pack into the elevator, almost breaking it before we manage to force the newbie, Siwon, and Siwon’s bible out. We walk quickly to the door of our suite on the twelfth floor, open it, walk in, take off our shoes, and slam the door shut.

We were sitting in a circle on the living room floor, staring at our hands.

“Hyung, let’s torment him so he’ll leave,” suggests Kangin.

“Kangin-hyung, he’s not a bad kid—“ Donghae began.

“Teuk-hyung, let’s make him miserable,” Kangin urges.

“Youngwoon, can you be quiet? Teacher told us to take good care of him,” I sighed. “Ryeowook-ah, hyung is hungry. Can you cook for us?” Ryeowook nodded and made his way to the kitchen, only to be caught by Hankyung and Heechul.

“Let’s make the newbie cook, you know, like an initiation sacrifice?” Heechul suggests, smirking.

“Heechul-ah, I think you mean ‘ceremony,’ not ‘sacrifice?’” Hankyung says quietly with his broken Korean. Heechul lightly slaps the Chinese man’s arm and gives him the “you-know-what-I-mean” glare.

“Good point, Ryeowookie is a hyung now; he shouldn’t cook.” Kangin added.

“Actually, I’m—“ began Ryeowook.

“Fantastic. Donghae-ya, call Sungmin and have him gather the eleventh floor and the newbie,” I clapped. My dongsaengs are brilliant.

So the newbie made ramen. Or so he said it was ramen. It looked like a reddish mess of diarrhea inside two huge pots. I forced a smile on my face and said,

“Well, thank you for cooking for hyungs, Kyuhyun. Let’s eat.” I take a bite and gag, slamming my chopsticks down on the table. Kyuhyun’s eyes widen, and I feel oddly satisfied with his apprehension. “Let’s pray that your singing and dance skills are better than your cooking.” I said coldly, leaving the table.

Several days, maybe weeks, passed pretty much in the same manner as last night. I absolutely enjoyed watching his eyes water whenever he was reprimanded, or when he had to sit alone when we ate. Donghae eventually started to eat with him, dragging his Eunhyuk along. Soon they got along like friends, and Donghae even allowed the newbie to drop honorifics. Traitors. It would serve them right if Kyuhyun replaced one of them.

I’m not sure how many more days passed since Kyuhyun joined us, but gradually, everyone sat with him to eat. Only Kangin and I still refused to acknowledge him, so we ate alone in our rooms. Even Sungmin who said that everything would be alright because I was the leader began to follow the newbie around like a lost puppy.

Then it happened. Our first win as Super Junior. I couldn’t hate him anymore, maybe I was wrong for being so cruel to such a hardworking young man. He’s our maknae; another little brother. I felt proud of him and hated myself. That day, I hugged him and told him “thank you.” But I never forgot that bitter hatred I felt for myself, and I kept it locked in a tight little box without a key.

“Lee.”

“Hyuk.”

“Jae.”

“Lee.”

“Hyuk.”

“Hyuk.”

“Puah ha ha . . .” A familiar laugh reaches my ears. Our Hyukjae is all right, thank God. I open my eyes and quickly squeeze them shut. “Kids, get a room!” Donghae and Eunhyuk were kissing.

“But hyung, this is a room,” giggled Donghae. “Your room.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Eunhyuk says sheepishly, blushing. “By the way, how are you feeling?”

“Better,” I say slowly, watching them. They seemed cheerful, but it was a bit strained. But watching them for a few seconds more, I decide they are acting like they normally do; lovey-dovey and utterly ridiculous, so everything must be okay. I stare at them, wanting to ask and get a confirmation that everything was, indeed, all right. “How is he?”

Donghae’s expression immediately darkens and he glances worriedly at Eunhyuk. I don’t like this; Donghae only makes that face when he knows he’s in trouble or something very, very bad happened.

“Donghae, how is he?” I ask, again.

“Hyung, who are you talking about?” Eunhyuk asks slowly, biting his lips. I know he’s hiding something;  he won’t even look at me.

“Lee. Hyuk. Jae. Look at me. How. Is. He.” I demanded, my temper fraying.

Donghae looks at Eunhyuk desperately, but the older boy shushes him.

“Hyung, who? You’re the only one still in the hospital.”

“How is Kyuhyun?” There. I asked it.

“Hyung, he’s—“

“I’m sorry, hyung. We wanted—“

“Hyung, we wanted to wait to tell you this—“

Eunhyuk glared at Donghae, and they began to argue.

“Kids, SHUT UP.” I finally had enough. “I’ll ask ONE more time, and you will answer, okay? Lee Donghae, Lee Hyukjae?” They nodded, wide-eyed. “How is our maknae, Kyuhyun?”

They looked at each other, hesitating over who should speak. “I’m sorry, hyung. But he didn’t make it.” And my world just stopped right then and there. This isn’t real, is it?

We’ve won again, this time with our song, “Don’t Don.” We have two new members, Henry from Canada and Zhou Mi from Wuhan. Henry is a goofy kid that dances and plays violin very well, and Zhou Mi is an adorable gentleman with good vocals. I’m a little disappointed in E.L.F because they won’t accept them, but it is what it is. We’ve also been divided into several sub groups; Super Junior M, a China-oriented unit led by Hankyung, Super Junior KRY with Yesung, Ryeowook, and Kyuhyun, Super Junior T led by me, and Super Junior H, also led by me.

It’s 2009, and our subunit, Super Junior M, is promoting their Mandarin song, “Super Girl,” overseas in China. Because of that, Hankyung, Zhou Mi,  Donghae, Siwon, Ryeowook, Kyuhyun, and Henry aren’t in the dorms; it’s a bit lonely and quiet. And the EunHae couple maxes out the phone bills every night, of course. It feels a bit weird not having Kyuhyun waltz into my room or radio show and kick my chairs out from under me at least once a day . . .

It’s 2010 now, and we’re back together at the dorms as thirteen plus two. Our fans still don’t completely accept Henry and Zhou Mi, but I’m glad those two can still pull through. As we prepare to promote a new song, “Bonamana,” Hankyung and Kibum catch an extreme case of influenza and cannot join us on stage. Youngwoon, I mean Kangin, got into a small mishap with alcohol intoxication, so he enlisted in the army early to repent for what he did. I miss him, but it is what it is. Super Junior will miss him until he comes back to us in two years. And I’m certain that he’ll break what’s left of my spine with one of his bear hugs the moment he is discharged.

                Then I realize I’ve been dreaming. It’s still only 2007.

It’s 2011, we have an “SJ Funky” kind of concept with eye-burningly bright colors and bizarre stage costumes. Eunhyuk’s hair is a blinding shade of platinum blond, and our teaser photos are, of course, horrendous. But it is what it is. We are promoting “Mr. Simple” today on Music Core, but as I count my members before we step on stage, I can’t help but frown. Where is Hankyung? Kibum? Why is Sungmin singing and dancing Kyuhyun’s parts in addition to his own? I furrow my brows and just keep dancing and smiling as the camera focuses on me.

Now it’s 2012 and we’re promoting another new title track, “y, Free, and Single.” And Youngwoon is back. I count my kids again and frown. Okay, it’s normal for Siwon to be missing due to other schedules, however . . . Where are Kibum, Hankyung, and Heechul? Where is Kyuhyun? He can’t be sick, didn’t I just talk to him yesterday? Then again, he wasn’t at practice last night; Sungmin and Yesung covered his lines . . . And the week before, Donghae was covering his lines . . . Where is Kyuhyun?

Slap!

I wake up in the dorms with my face red and stinging.

“Ya, Jungsoo-ya, I know you’re lazy and hate waking up, but even this is a bit much,” Heechul’s bleary red eyes glared at me.

“Heechullie-ah—“ Hankyung began.

“Shut up,” snapped Heechul. He pointed at me. “You. Get up. Get dressed. Be down stairs and in the first van in thirty minutes or else.” And with that, he stormed out of my room with his roommate in tow.

In the car, it is dead silent. I look at each of my members; they look more worn out than ever, and all of them except Yesung avoid my gaze. I desperately look to Sungmin for answers, but what I see makes me turn away. Our strong Sungmin that never sheds any tears. Our Sungmin that is always smiling. Our Sungmin is crying. Although he is crying almost soundlessly, I can see that he does not want to be bothered. So I turn again to Yesung.

  “Jongwoon-ah, where are we going?”

“Hyung, you don’t know?” His bloodshot eyes meet mine as he whispers, for Ryeowook is sleeping on his shoulder. I glance at Ryeowook and see that his eyes are swollen, and his makeup has been partially washed away from tears. What could have happened to make all my boys have such bleary eyes? What happened to make Ryeowook and Sungmin cry so hard? “Hyung. Leeteuk-hyung . . .” Yesung’s low voice shakes me from my thoughts. “You really don’t know?”

“I do not.”

“Kyuhyun died last week from his injuries.”

This can’t be real.

“His wake was yesterday, but you were sleeping and incoherent from all the pain killers they had you take.”

This can’t be happening.

“We are on our way to pay our final respects to him.”

What is this?

There’s incense burning in front of a young man’s picture. His hair is dark and bit curly; his eyes are huge and the same dark hue as his hair. His eyes are sparkling with life and mischief. On his lips is an all-too-familiar grin that says that he is up to no good. I stare at the picture for a long time, barely noticing my members and the people around me.

“Kyuhyun-ah.” I hear Sungmin’s voice tremble. “Shindong-hyung and Sungmin-hyung bought you a bed. We didn’t know what color sheets to get you, so I insisted on pink. But I don’t know if you’ll like it. So come home soon and take look, ok? Don’t make your roommate wait too long, or he might just find a new one!”

“Kyuhyun-ah . . .” Kangin begins. But no words come out. A strangled noise comes from the big man and he collapses on me, violently sobbing.

“Kyuhyun-ah,” Yesung sings softly. “You better behave so hyung can meet you again later, ok?”

“Kyuhyunnie,” chokes Ryeowook. Yesung wraps an arm around the younger boy and squeezes his shoulder. “Kyuhyun-ah, my door will always be open for you. I won’t get mad if you goof around or stink when you come in. You can always come and tell me your problems. If Teukie-hyung is being mean again, and . . .”

“Kyuhyun . . .” Kibum forces a smile as he looks at the picture. “Don’t kick out God’s chairs like you kick out ours from under us, ok?”

I don’t know how long we were all there, but when I finally came back to my senses, I was all alone in that room with the picture of that boy.

And again, I find myself staring at that picture. I was staring at the picture of you.

And finally, I understand. Standing up, I walk to your picture.

“Kyuhyun-ah,” a lump forms in my throat as I speak, and my words are stolen from me as I feel myself falling to my knees. That keyless box explodes, and I feel like I’m drowning as I look at that picture of you.

                                                                                                                     END

A/N: 20130218 - hard to give all 13 of them lines @_@ & minor grammatical edit

20130329 - minor word, phrase, and grammatical edit. And just realized that Kyuhyun has 0 lines, apologies.

20130727 - re-aligned paragraphs, minor grammatical fixes