Ryeowook collapses suddenly, mid-practice, and it causes some mayhem before he manages to pacify the team by telling them he’s just hungry and hasn’t had enough sleep, only Kyuhyun knows better.

Kyuhyun raises his hand, the beginning of a wave, but his confidence folds in on himself and he crosses his arms in front of his chest instead, a little lost, unsure of what he might have wanted to say at that moment.

“I’m fine.” Ryeowook’s smile is bright, his eyes closing involuntarily with the force of it, but Kyuhyun still notices the way the soft pads of Ryeowook’s fingers seem to curl and press deeper into the skin of his leg, cradles his ankle with a barely discernable hiss, and suddenly Kyuhyun feels as if he were observing something he has no right to.

“Don’t lie to me,” Kyuhyun says, quietly, and stares directly in front of him, watches Donghae and Eunhyuk converse animatedly, watches Kangin dangle Sungmin’s goggles in the air, watches and watches and waits, but Ryeowook stays silent, slumped against his own locker, a little more exhausted this time, his head bowed with the weight of hopelessness that Kyuhyun has never associated with Ryeowook.

Kangin throws the goggles to Ryeowook, abruptly, and Ryeowook catches it, laughing at Sungmin’s angry squawk. Still, Kyuhyun remembers that Ryeowook has never looked so old than now.

Older, this time, and more deceptive to his eye.
Ryeowook’s are a little clumsier, now, his form a little less fluid, and he bites on his lip as the tears begin to form and mingle with the splatters of water from the pool. Siwon pretends he doesn’t notice the difference, but there’s a limit to what Ryeowook can and cannot do, so it’s only to be expected when Siwon drops him from the team roster.

“I understand,” Ryeowook says, and Siwon drops the clipboard in his hands and rests his cheek against the top of Ryeowook’s head, because all he hears is hold me.

Kyuhyun stares at the clipboard on the floor, and wonders if this is what a heart break feels like.