Minseok is used to waiting. Even with their packed schedules and 130-hour workweeks, he always seems to spend most of that time just waiting. Waiting for a plane to leave. Waiting for bodyguards to clear a path through a mass of hysterical fan girls. Waiting for the other members to finish their close-up shots. Waiting for hair dye to process. Waiting for another comeback date.

Minseok’s not an impatient man, yet it’s the waiting that gets to him and frightens him when thinking about the lost hours tapping away at his phone or staring at wall clocks while he could’ve spent that time with friends and family, or getting lost in the city.

He wonders if he will regret it at some point; throwing away buckets of time in pursuit of this brief stint of fame and wealth, instead of letting it flow through his fingers, savouring every second of his life as it slips past him. It’s a scary thought, and he tries to push it away, because nothing’s scarier than to think that at some point he will look back and realise it wasn’t worth it.

It has to be worth it.

So Minseok has learned to embrace waiting, and fill the long empty stretches of nothing with meditation, exercise and reading.

None of that helps him now.

Minseok might be used to waiting, but does anyone ever get used to waiting for bad news?
 

Beside him, Yixing stirs, his arms jerking as he mumbles in his sleep. It might look inappropriate to anyone who doesn’t know the Chinese man, to sleep while the other EXO-M members wait for news about EXO-K’s condition after the car crash. Minseok knows better though: it’s Yixing’s coping mechanism. Whenever he’s extremely sad or anxious, the boy seems to shut down completely, body going limp as it succumbs to a fitful slumber. It’s never a peaceful sleep, and Yixing always looks horrid after waking up from these anxiety-induced naps. They had tried waking him up a few times during their training days, but it had only sent the dancer into a full-fledged panic attack. So Minseok gently pets Yixing thigh, careful not to wake up the younger man.

The first reports were hopeful. No serious injuries. It had taken a full 30 minutes before they were told there is one casualty and one person in critical condition and another 10 minutes before they received word that Joonmyeon, Baekhyun and Sehun are okay. The other three EXO-K members are injured, and Minseok’s frustrated by the lack of updates on their condition.

Tao is pacing up and down the living room, his hands twisting in the fabric of his flimsy shirt as he tries to claw away the fear that is  crawling under his skin like a snake, slowly spreading its venom through his body.

Jongdae’s sitting on the floor, clutching his phone as if he expects it to ring at any moment, but the lines in his face show how terrified he is of what he might hear. Minseok feels the same way.

On his left, Luhan sits hunched forward, elbows on knees, his face stoic and blank. Minseok leans in, letting his head rest on Luhan’s shoulder. He doesn’t move, but when Minseok reaches out a hand, Luhan sits up a little and laces his fingers through Minseok’s.  

The mood shifts when their manager walks into the living room, a phone pressed to his ear; his expression unreadable. They have no idea what the person on the other end of the line is saying as the manager only responds with grunts and a few hmm’s. A few moments later, he puts his phone down and looks up at the Chinese half of EXO with sad eyes.

Minseok elbows Yixing until the younger man jerks awake as all the other members collectively hold their breath.

“Who?” Jongdae’s whispered question sounds too loud in the silent living room.  

“It’s not one of us. The guy who died was in the other car.”

No one says a word, but Minseok sees Yixing’s shoulder shaking in the corner of his eye.

Luhan’s hand squeezes down harder on Minseok’s. “And the others?”

“Chanyeol and Kyungsoo have some bad cuts and bruises but they’ll be okay.”

The manager pauses, and Luhan’s squeezing Minseok’s hand so hard his fingers go numb.

“Jongin is in surgery right now. There’s… Something with his legs.”
Yixing starts sobbing uncontrollably.

Joonmyun looks down at the wet trail on the bathroom floor that Jongdae had left when he stormed out a few seconds ago. Or was it minutes, hours maybe? He looks into the the fogged up bathroom mirror above the sink, and sees Joonmyun oozing through the cracks in Suho.

Kim Joonmyun was split in half when he debuted.

Suho and Joonmyun. He poured every spark of energy into Suho, the polished-to-perfection empty shell, and forced all his shortcomings and flaws onto the Joonmyun beneath, away from the public eye.

He was presented to the outside world as the ever responsible and collected Suho, and he found it increasingly harder to lay off that carefully constructed image once he crossed the threshold of the dorm.

It was easier to deal with idol life as Suho. Easier to breathe when no one wanted to see what he was like under the thick layer of rehearsed speeches and fake smiles.

If there was any fragment of the real him left, he pushed it further down, down, further down until the other, imperfect version of himself never came up for air again.

Perhaps it was for the best, because Suho’s superficial persona was a stronger man than Joonmyun could ever be.

But with his most personal secret extracted from behind the thick walls he built around his heart during his trainee days and brutally forced into the open after his confrontation with Jongdae, Joonmyun was brought back. Weak, insecure Joonmyun, barely a ghost of the young man he once was, is the man he now sees in the mirror.

He tries looking at this Joonmyun through Jongdae’s eyes. There’s nothing worth loving in that reflection.

December 2020

Luhan enjoys the prickling sensation of rough concrete under his bare feet. H