youngjae feels like there's a hole in his chest, feels like his mind's caving in on him and he can't do anything about it, because this is life now. him sitting placid against cold walls, ignoring the sting against his eyes and directions from the dance instructor. he'll block out the buzz of everyone else, hates them because they've moved on and he can't even begin to start to move on. he muddles through the haze of new life, ignores junhong's prods to encourage his youthfulness, stares at fan cafes and reads fans' condolences with some distorted displacement. he puts on a dissimulative smile when the cameras are focused on him, waits a few seconds before he answers questions to pretend like he actually has to articulate an answer when really he doesn't know how to articulate anything anymore(or when he really doesn't care about his answer anymore, either). he plays up his enthusiasm to do whatever hosts' of shows want him to do, tries half-heartily even though he doesn't care if he wins, because who's going to be there to celebrate? he pretends to listen when the managers, the staff, the members scold him about his participation(or lack thereof), swallows back words he feels itching against his throat when it's brought up. 

and it's getting worse. he knows it, the fans know it, the members know it, but he doesn't do anything to stop it. and the worst aspect of it is that they're actively promoting and youngjae should, has, to be there. he has to have his head in the game, he has to remember lyrics and rythems and dance moves. they only have limited amount of free-time and it's usually spent at the dorm, which youngjae hates the most. it smells like cleaner and sweat and broken dreams; fractured memories and shattered hopes. so he usually just sits at the kitchen table, ipad flat against the wood, too-pale cheeks resting in his hands. which is where he is now, at four p.m and after they've just gotten out of another dance practice where youngjae wasn't paying attention(and where he'd gotten yelled at about seven times). he's scrolling through his twitter feed, gazing over sentences he doesn't bother reading, hair frazzled but he doesn't try to fix it(not because it doesn't bother him but because fixing it would feel too much like an insult). he ignores the voices he's known for years, the electronic beeps of someone playing video games in the living room, the strum of r&b music playing in one of the distant back bedrooms. 

he doesn't try to pretend he's okay anymore, doesn't laugh at jokes he doesn't find funny, doesn't keep up a facade for the youngers' sake because they're already all broken; doesn't need their innocence to be preserved because there's already a crack right down the middle. the chair adjacent to him scratches against the tile and when he looks up he sees himchan's obsidian eyes staring right at him, through him, and he doesn't even try to shrink away.
"jongup and junhong want you to play video games with them." 
youngjae can only scoff but not because he's against the proposal, but because he knows why it's himchan in front of him  and not either of the youngers'. because they're afraid of handling youngjae wrong, afraid of dropping him and watching him crack, afraid of saying the wrong things and hurting him even more(but it's not possible, not really).
"no thanks."
himchan sighs like he expected this answer, gauging youngjae a little longer then "i know he was your best friend, but we still have a job to do and you can't do this to yourself, jae, you can't."
and it would be easier, but himchan yongguk junhong jongup the managers the staff the bosses don't know everything; don't know even a sliver of it.
(youngjae and daehyun were so much more than friends, the line between friends and lovers and coworkers blurred and skewed and overlapped. when no one was looking they'd press their lips together, hands held under tables during meetings, backs to chests at two in the morning under the cover of unsuspecting darkness.)

-

it got worse at night when paranoid darkness crawled into his veins. he'd tug his blanket closer to his thinning bones, push his sweaty head into his stale pillow and turn onto his side in instinct, looking across the room and junhong's blonde head to the recently vacant bed. it'd make his head and heart and eyes hurt and then he'd close them, trying to even out his breathing so he wouldn't wake up anyone else, and dream of daehyun. he'd dream of nights like these where he'd look across the room and  have glistening eyes staring back, wrinkles youngjae knew were there even in the darkness turning up as he smiled. 
daehyun would wait a few minutes before he'd slip from under his blanket, stepping quietly past the other members before he'd find his place behind youngjae. there'd be a hot kiss of welcome to daehyun's lips, arms tightening around the younger's waist, puzzle pieces together in the same puzzle. and it felt like destiny to youngjae, and maybe daehyun too, but youngjae can't ask anymore. they'd lace their fingers together, infinity held between the cracks, and fall asleep. (but in the mornings they'd be back in their respective beds, daehyun's eyes mischievous when he looked at youngjae, because it was theirs.)

-

since daehyun was gone lead vocals became youngjae's job, and even though his voice was good, it wasn't as good as daehyun's(and never would be). so to add more insult to injury, youngjae would have to sit for four hours in a stuffy studio he used to be able to tolerate, pretending to listen to demos and producers as they talked about pitch and other . and then he'd be shoved inside the booth, trying not to imagine what it was like when he'd watch daehyun from the other side of the glass. the music would play and he'd blankly look at the sheet, letting the earphones drop  around his neck, preparing himself for the dissapointment of letting daehyun down. the producers were annoyed then frustrated then angry then yelling at him, the manger would be irate as he followed youngjae back to the dorm, muttering about how terribly youngjae was acting(and how terribly he was dealing with everything). yongguk would be following him back to the bedroom, his breath hot on youngjae's back, would try to chastise like a leader when youngjae fell onto his bed. (youngjae wouldn't listen, just flip onto his stomach and try not to cry).

-
eventually the producers stopped giving youngjae as many lines as he used to, the fans started asking where he was more often, and he stopped showing up to press conferences and fan meetings. instead he'd be holed up in the dorm bathroom, managers pounding on the door and threatening to cut him loose if he didn't come out. but he wouldn't go, he'd just stay in the bathroom with the water on to wash out his cries and panicky breath, waiting until the pounding stopped to crawl back into his room. 
he'd get chewed out by the boss, be yelled at by yongguk, looked down on by the manager. 
and then he'd pretend to forget his problems in the darkened room, ignore the members when they asked if he was okay, think about what ifs' and daehyun and leaving everything that made the hurt so much worse.

"don't leave youngjae, i know the daehyun thing still hurts, but you can't let it take over your life."
"it wasn't a thing, yongguk hyung. daehyun's dead and how can it not take over my life?"
(because daehyun was his life, even if no one knew it)

-

it took three more weeks for youngjae to leave, and two months after that for them all to become just more ex-idols.