I turned to face the wall, huffing as I twisted in the bed. I was in a hotel somewhere in Japan, it was three o'clock in the morning, and I hadn't slept for two weeks. 

It wasn't that I didn't try. Didn't try pills and laying still for hours straight or closing my eyes or everything else. I did. I wanted to sleep, to escape, but it just wouldn't come. I was exhausted: at the performances, at the shows, at the interviews, and being the best dancer in Super Junior meant I needed to lead, but I just couldn't get the moves right with so little sleep and fans noticed. The members noticed. Manager hyungs noticed. But I just brushed off their concerns, avoided the topic, because I know one thing. I was as sure as hell not about to talk about it. Because then it would morph into why I wasn't sleeping, and I don't want to talk about that. I don't think I could.

Being an idol under SM doesn't help. The rumors aren't exactly true, but they have the faint outline of just how hard they work us, of how much sleep we get. I had survived with little sleep for all of my career. I was used to it, but I need sleep. Just closing my eyes in between schedules isn't cutting it. But I don't know what to do. I'm too tired. I can't think straight. And it isn't just because of sleep.

Donghae. 

Him. He's the reason. It's not technically his fault; he doesn't know. But it's him. It's his eyes, it's his voice, it's his everything. It's him. 

I sigh, switching sides again, watching the light on the wall. Painted in four neat boxes, shadows of the light coming from the lamp outside of the building, it's the only light in the darkness of the room. Outside, I can hear footsteps, and faint whispers as a pair of stranger walk past the room, down the long hotel hallways.

When I was young I would run down them. They always seemed to make me faster, like I was running at the speed of light. Like I was free. My parents would scold me, of course, but I always did it anyway. I loved to stay in hotels, but we didn't travel enough. Too many ties back home, too much money, not enough reward out of it. But I've always remembered those hallways. 

Now, I travel all the time. Japan, China, America, all across the world. Everywhere, as Eunhyuk. I love to be Eunhyuk, to be on that stage, to hear the cheers. I love to be that person. I do. It's my dream, come alive. 

But sometimes I wish I wasn't. I wish I wasn't who I am. Sometimes I wish I was Hyukjae. Just an ordinary guy, with non-famous friends, who could go somewhere without getting mobbed by fans. Sometimes I wish that instead of meeting Donghae here, at SM, I wish I had met him somewhere else. On the street, in school, at work. I wish I had seen him and thought, he's cute. And then I would walk up to him, introduce myself, trigger the beginning of a love story. 

Instead, for years, I had had to force down what I thought, what I felt, and paste a perfect smile on my perfect face, because idols are perfect. They are expected to be perfect, to be flawless, to fit the ridged expectations. 

But what I feel for Donghae isn't flawless, in Korea. It isn't perfect. It isn't something to be proud of, like it would be if a man loved a women. It is something to hide in the shadows, to ignore, to pretend like it isn't there. And being an idol only makes it worse, when your every move is caught on camera, published, spread across the world. 

Donghae slid into the dorm kitchen, losing his balance for a precarious second before righting himself on the counter and continuing to the table in the most composed way, sliding into the chair to the left of me. He greeted everyone politely before grabbing a plate and digging into the breakfast the exhausted-looking Ryeowook had cooked for us. It was 7 in the morning, a half hour until we had to go to an interview. 

I was tired. I hadn't gotten any sleep last night, as Kyu had decided to introduce me to Minecraft. It had been a long night, stuck to the computer screen, and I keep struggling to open my eyes. Donghae catches my heavy-lidded eyes and grins, and it was like a ray of sunshine. I don't know how to describe it. It just was, there in front of me. Love. It was Donghae. I felt my heart drop, and my cheeks flush, and at the same time, I felt my mind crush my heart to pieces. 

That morning, the first time I truly looked at Donghae, I slid off the stool, begging myself to hold the tears in for a little longer, a little longer, and I ran away, because I loved him in that moment and I can't, I can't love him.

I can't love him, I repeated, scouring the words in my brain like a hot iron brand. I can't love him.

I remember that. It didn't work.

Donghae looked up, his hair falling in his sparkling eyes, his huge smile filling his face. He stops his feet and meets my eyes, laughing at my expression. 

"What?" He asks, and the mutely flashing lights behind him make him glow, an angel. 

"You're not supposed to do this," I chuckled, demonstrating the move the way that Donghae was doing it. 

"You're supposed to do it like this," I said, now doing the dance move the right way. Donghae leaned back and folded his arms, a little smile on his face. 

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" Donghae protested, as he tried to do the move the right way.

"We had dance practice like yesterday," I lectured, the smile growing on my face as I watched Donghae try again, and just end up doing it like he was doing it before. 

"Here," I said, and moved over to him. "You flip your wrist after you do this," I said, demonstrating, knowing my face was red at how Donghae's eyes were focused on mine. The sounds of the other members, the directors, just faded into the background until it was just us. Just me and Donghae, the boy that, back then, I still didn't know what to think about.

Donghae tried the move again, and this time he got it. He looked at me like a puppy would to someone holding a treat, and I grinned, my cheeks burning even more. 

"Yeah, that was right." Donghae smiled in relief and repeated the dance move until he felt like he got it, me just watching with half-lidded eyes. 

A movement from the side startled me, and I looked up to see Siwon, just finished with his photoshoot, come over and wrap his arm around Donghae's shoulders. Donghae grinned, and so did Siwon, but I could feel jealousy tightening my stomach, my breath, but I tried to hide it. Siwon caught my eyes and held it, a wry smile playing on his lips. His eyes darted around, then settled on me again. He mouthed something, clear and bold, but no one saw it. Not Donghae, not any of the people rushing around us in our own world. But I did. I saw his lips move, and I knew what he said. And the words left a pit in my stomach, made me worry if I was hiding my growing attraction to Donghae well enough.

Be Careful, he said. 

That was the day when someone had even gotten an inkling about my feelings. Maybe Siwon had spotted it long before, and had needed to confirm what he already knew. Maybe he had waited for a time to warn me, to tell me to swallow the feelings and put on my perfect Idol Face. Siwon had always been the god-loving member; reading the bible every morning, trying to turn Heechul into a Christian, etc. So at first I had been worried. Is he disgusted? Does he hate me? But days went by, weeks, and Siwon didn't do anything. Except whenever he caught me staring at Donghae he would do something weird with his eyebrow. It was scary, and I got the message well enough. Not in public. Not too obvious. Control.

And I do. I control my eyes, I make them go somewhere other than where I want them to go, and I concentrate, and I hide my love behind walls and more walls and stone doors, locked tight, inside and out. 

And I wish I could unlock those doors, but I can't. I locked them too tight, I locked them inside and out. If I were two people, I know I could unlock the doors. I could walk around one side and stay at the other, and we could unlock them, and I could unload my shoulders of the weight of secret love. But I can't. I'm just one person, now. 

I'm Eunhyuk. Hyukjae is gone, at least for now. 

But, maybe, in one year or five or ten or fifty, I'll be able to become Hyukjae again, and I could become two people, and I could drop this load that is so, so heavy. I could unlock the doors. 

But until then, I'll wait. I'll hope, and I'll wish, and I'll pray to the god of love to set me free.