Minseok wishes Ryeowook hadn't chosen that day to come home.

She wishes he didn't have to find her curled up on her bed, too shell shocked to even do homework, which is very unlike her.

"What happened!?"  Ryeowook immediately freaks out, as if he was the one who went through an ordeal and not Minseok.  "Are you okay??"  He jumps on the bed and wraps his arms around Minseok's form.  

Minseok doesn't know what to say, so she just keeps quiet.

Ryeowook sighs and her hair.  "Please tell me, Minseok-ah."

Minseok looks up at him, at his distinctly youthful face despite being in his late thirties, at his large caring eyes, and opens .

Then she remembers how Ryeowook always avoided her questions about her past, to the point that she just stopped asking.  It's been three years living without knowing, and the patient Minseok is kind of tired.  She has a feeling; no, she knows that Heechul has something to do with her past, even if may have been the antagonist.  And Minseok is determined to find out what really happened, and why she can't remember having a mother.

"Nothing... I... I got a B in English class," Minseok lies through her teeth, body trembling slightly.  She's never lied before in her life.  She hopes Ryeowook passes the trembling off as distress."

Ryeowook's face, which had been uncharacteristically worried, immediately changes.  A smile breaks across his face.  "Oh, Minseok.  That's nothing to be upset about.  I got plenty of B's back in my day.  They're pretty good, actually.  Don't let it bring you down; I'm completely sure that you will be able to bring it back up."

Minseok forces herself to smile.  "Thank you..." she says, the word 'appa' on the tip of her tongue.  But for some reason, it sounds weird.  It feels weird.  So she just leaves the words hanging in the air to join the thousands of other broken phrases she spoke.

Ryeowook seems to notice what her hesitation is about, and his smile fades a little bit as he sits back on the bed.  He just sits there, staring at her, for a moment before saying, "I brought more groceries."  Minseok nods, acknowledging it.  However, Ryeowook doesn't leave.

Finally, after what feels like eternity, Ryeowook sighs.  He reaches forward and brushes the hair away from Minseok's face.  "I don't know why, but... I'm really worried lately.  Tell me if anything bothers you, okay?  Tell me if something weird happens."  Ryeowook's stare bores right through Minseok, but Minseok holds strong.  The appearance of Heechul shook her, and now she realizes that it's time she found out something herself.  "Please.  And... stay away from that Sehun, okay?"

Minseok nods before stopping herself.  Something clicks in her brain.  "How... how did you know Oh Sehun was at my school?  And why are you calling him only by his first name?  Do you know him?"  Minseok's sharp eyes scan Ryeowook's face, which is suddenly sweating.

Ryeowook laughs, running a hand across his face and effectively dispelling the sweat that betrayed him.  "No, no, of course not.  He's younger than me, so of course I called him like that.  And... well... let's just say Oh Sehun has quite a reputation and frequently provides headlines for the media."

Minseok can hear the avoided answer in Ryeowook's words and frowns.  Just something else Ryeowook wasn't telling Minseok.

But oh well.  Ryeowook already does enough for her, bringing her food and sometimes clothes, and paying the rent of the tiny house.  No matter how run down and out of the place it is, it's still her house, and has been her home for three years.  She doesn't notice that she doesn't include Ryeowook in ownership of the house.

Ryeowook leaves with sweat pouring down his face and Minseok's eyes unfocused, brain working double time.

 

Zhang Yixing is standing in his tiny bathroom, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror.

It's hard to make out a complete image of himself, but he can clearly see the purple and blue swelling in his right cheek just over his dimple.  He touches it gingerly and winces.  Yixing pulls open a drawer and takes out a bottle, shaking it open on this palm.  Nothing comes out.

He sighs.  There's nothing he can do about his mom using all the painkillers.  He'll have to bear with it; he's done it before.

Even so, he just wants to curl up in a ball and howl when he lets go of the counter and tries to walk out the door.  His back is killing him, like a white hot knife is cleaving through his lower half.  Tears spring into his eyes as he drags himself along, hands on the wall, until he is hanging onto the doorframe.

"I'll be at the shop," Yixing calls out, knowing nothing is going to answer him.  Even so, he waits a few moments before pulling the door closed and locking it, almost collapsing onto the sidewalk before gritting his teeth and walking down the stairs bent in half like a man three times his age.

He walks down the street in a blurry world, vision covered with a film of white pain and pale tears, not caring about the people staring at him or the people he bumps into.

Thankfully, Yixing doesn't collapse until he's out of the way of the general crowd, which is grateful for because this way he won't be blocking anyone's path.  He lies on the ground for a little, vision going in and out of focus, and tries not to focus on the sharp pain digging in his back.  It's been like this since the time he had slipped on the stairs and fell down, breaking his back on the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

He's just glad it's not his head that was broken, just something that could be healed.

It's not all that's broken, though.  His heart had been broken twice.  First by his father leaving, second by his mother falling onto the state she was in now.  And he supposes that it could be healed, but, just like his back, never had to care and nurturing to do so.

He reaches the small corner store and grabs a basket, trying not to succumb to the pain and bend over.  He roamed around the tiny shop that he knew by heart, running the usual path from the painkillers to the ramen to the preserved vegetables.  When he put his purchase on the counter and closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, the clerk didn't question him and simply began checking out.  They knew him too well and didn't even try to help anymore.  Yixing appreciated it.

He paid with the few bills he had in his pocket from payment earlier that week, received from the job he worked as a waiter sometimes.  When the clerk put everything in a paper bag, she slipped in a chocolate bar from behind the counter.  Yixing didn't protest; it was their way of apologizing, of saying they felt bad for him.  If it made them feel better, then so be it.

Yixing made his way home with his paper bag, stopping at a small park halfway there and leaning against the low brick wall fencing in one side, popping open the cap on the painkillers.  He swallows one dry, closing his eyes, waiting for the effects to kick in.

"What are you doing?"  A quiet voice asks behind him, and Yixing turns around.

Jongin.  It was Jongin standing there, a haze of smoke around him, eyes unreadable.

"Getting rid of the pain," Yixing says, eyes sliding past Jongin's, not knowing what to do.  Not feeling the pain in his back lessening, he pops open the cap and swallows two more pills.

The next second, the bottle is knocked from his hand onto the grass, pills spilling out, white as snow against the sickly yellow and green.  He stares at his hand for a moment, shocked.  Jongin stands there, hand still outstretched from when he had slapped the bottle out of Yixing's hand.

"What are you doing!?"  Yixing exclaims, glaring at Jongin.  He feels an uncharacteristically hot flame of anger rise in him.  Why in the world was Jongin taking away his only chance at less pain?  Did he want Yixing to suffer that much?

"You-" Jongin doesn't get to finish.  Several large guys come up behind him.  A haze of smoke also hangs around them, thick and hot.  One still has his cigarette, which he immediately drops on the grass and ground after catching sight of this new entertainment.

"What's this?"  A voice drawls, and Yixing looks up at the man.  He is slightly taller than Yixing, maybe about the same height as Jongin.  "Found us another toy, Kai?  Good going."

Yixing stares at Jongin.  What were they saying?  He doesn't like the look of these guys.  They seemed like your average troublemakers.  There was no way Jongin was with them, right?

For a second, Jongin is silent.  Then he laughs, and it sounds so ugly and wrong and nothing like the laugh Yixing still remembers from so long ago.  "That's right," Jongin says, and his voice is different, too.  Confident, mocking.  "Just a cripple tired of life.  Found him trying to commit suicide."  He waves his hand at the bottle and pills scattered on the ground.

Suicide.  Jongin thought he was committing suicide?  Yixing resists the urge to laugh an ugly laugh of his own.  A cripple.  Then again, Jongin was right.  Yixing was crippled, and not just physically.

"Maybe you're right," Yixing says calmly.  "Maybe I am committing suicide.  But why would any of you care?  Band of good, healthy kids like yourself.  Go away.  I want to die without seeing your ugly faces."  Yixing aims the last statement directly at Jongin, feeling a terrible pleasure at the subtle widening of Jongin's eyes.

Yixing expected the punch, is already anticipating it when it comes.  Even so, it knocks him over, bad back springing to life and protesting anew.  His grip on the paper bag loosens and he drops it, cans and packets of ramen tumbling out, along with more bottles of painkillers.  And the chocolate bar.

He doesn't protest when they begin kicking him, the only thought running through his mind being, I hope they don't crush the ramen.  

His back scolds him with every blow, but he closes his eyes and lets them kick him.  If only they will feel better themselves, he's willing to not fight.  Yixing already lost his purpose in life; what else is there for him to do except exist for others to destroy and put down?

They leave him lying on the grass, half dead, lacking even the energy to laugh maniacally as, ironically, one of the guys bends down and picks up the chocolate, ripping it open and tearing a chunk out of the bar.

 

Registration for the Yeokjin* Idol.

Jongdae looks up from the paper to the choir teacher.  "I want you to enter," she says, smiling at him.  Jongdae feels himself smile slightly as well, moved that she would believe in him so.

And he might just register.  Maybe even to try, and fail.  It would just be something else he can write down when he remembers his younger days.  'Tried and failed at singing.  At least I tried.'

The paper is easy enough to fill out.  Jongdae writes his name, his parents' name, and his email.  Signing up is free; contestants are chosen from auditions and then they have to pay a fee to participate.  

"Oh, are you doing that too?"  Jongdae looks up when he hears the bright, cheery voice.  It's Baekhyun, President of the choir.  Kyungsoo, Vice-President, is standing behind him.  Jongdae barely nods, not trusting the boy's bright smile.  "We are too!  That's great.  We can practice together.  Hey, maybe we should sing a song together!"

Jongdae frowns to himself, trying to find the obviously hidden loophole in Baekhyun's words, but finding none.  Even so, he could not imagine why they would want to sing with him.  Wouldn't he just drag them down?

"If you want to," he mutters, still deciding that it was a trick.

"Great!  Let's get started," Baekhyun exclaims, and grabs Jongdae's hand.  Jongdae stares down dumbly at the smaller hand with almost feminine fingers wrapped around his wrist.  

"Now?"  He asks stupidly.

"Yes, now!"  Baekhyun replies impatiently.  

"He's very hasty," Kyungsoo added, as if it was very important.  Jongdae just nodded again, not knowing what to say.  He often found himself in situations like this, not finding the right words.  He wishes he was better at speaking, and hopes one day he would be.

"You have a great voice," Baekhyun comments suddenly, still dragging Jongdae by the wrist down the hall.

"Excuse me?"  Jongdae says, surprised.

"You're a great singer," Baekhyun says, smiling that square smile.  Jongdae stares at Baekhyun, words once again failing him.  "Thank you?"  Baekhyun says.

"Sorry?"  Jongdae says.

"The words you're searching for are 'thank you'," Baekhyun explains.  

"Thank you," Jongdae says.

"You're welcome!"  Baekhyun replies happily.

Jongdae can't help but feel like a doll, repeating things word for word.  

 

"Heechul," Ryeowook says lowly.

"Ryeowook-ssi," Heechul says, smiling.

"I'm not supposed to be here," Ryeowook says, glancing around the small coffee shop apprehensively, as if the Oh's would jump out of every corner.

"I know you're not," Heechul sighs.

"I'm only doing this because I'm already involved," Ryeowook says, glaring at Heechul.  "And you're the one who- who saved her- her..."

"Life?"  Heechul supplies, and Ryeowook nods wordlessly.

"Why are you back?"  Ryeowook sighs.  "It's dangerous for you, too!"

"I don't care," Heechul hisses, and Ryeowook flinches.  Heechul barely notices.  "I have to protect her.  They'll find out, Ryeowook; we can't keep something as big as this a secret forever.  It's bad enough that that Sehun brat insisted on going to school.  I doubt he remembers me, but he's seen me before."

"Then we remove you!"  Ryeowook says.

"There's no way," Heechul says, and suddenly he is cold, and this is about more than the forfeited life of the daughter of the Oh's.  

"A-alright," Ryeowook concedes immediately.

"How is she doing?"  Heechul says, and suddenly he looks vulnerable, sorry.  "I didn't... react well the other day."

"What did you do!?"  Ryeowook explodes, his protectiveness taking over.  He shakes his head.  No wonder she had been so strange earlier, not even doing homework or anything.  And even... maybe that story about the B was a ruse as well.  

"I kind of... yelled at her," Heechul says guiltily.  Ryeowook huffs a long breath through his teeth, running a hand through his hair and furrowing his eyebrows.  "I couldn't help it," Heechul continues sadly, and Ryeowook's heart breaks for him as well.  Heechul has been through too much himself.  "It-it hurt so much, Ryeowook.  I knew what I would face when I came back, that her memories would be gone, but- it hurt so bad, Ryeowook, almost as if I'm losing her all over again."

"I'm sorry," Ryeowook says quietly, because he doesn't have any other words for Heechul.

Heechul stands up abruptly.  "Well, this discussion is over.  I suppose she's doing well, as you are looking after her.  I trust you, Ryeowook-ssi, and that means something to me."

"Heechul-" Ryeowook says.

"Now if you will excuse me.  All this emotional crap has left me tired.  I'm going to need more than one cup of coffee if I am to get through homework.  Can you believe that they are making me do all the assignments I missed?  My senior year, too."

 

Jongin nearly ran over to Yixing house as soon as the bastards left.

He can't believe what they did today.  Usually they weren't so bad; Jongin tolerated them for the free smokes and acceptance.  But today... His heart wrenched in his chest.

Jongin pauses in front of the dilapidated shack he knew was Yixing's home.  With another idea in mind, he sprints over to the convenience store nearby.  He fills a shopping cart with milk, eggs, vegetables, ramen, and painkillers, anything they might need.  Yixing had looked malnourished.  With his hands filled with white plastic bags, he ran back over.

Jongin rang the doorbell, panting, but no one answers.  He nudges the door slightly with his shoulder, and to his surprise, it opens with a loud creak.  He cautiously walks inside.

No one is home, at least at first glance.  It's cold inside, colder even than outside where the sun shone during the day.  Then he hears a rattling sound coming from the left.

He leaves the bags on the floor and runs when he spots to still figure draped on the ground next to the couch.  Yixing is lying there, unconscious, as if his last thought was to be considerate and collapse on the couch rather than the floor.  His back is bent in an awkward position, and Jongin remembers to back problems Yixing has.  He had never told Jongin the cause, but it was not long before his father had gone away.  Now that he thinks about it, maybe there is a connection.

Jongin hates himself for doing this, for being weak enough to hurt for Yixing like this even though it was all Yixing's fault.  But the bond of friendship as close as being brothers ran in his blood, and Jongin finds himself arranging Yixing into a more comfortable position on the couch and stocking up the old, yellow fridge.  

"Wake up soon," he whispers to the silent air when he is done, leaving a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the floor next to the couch.

He can't even begin to think about how afraid he had been when he had found Yixing with those pills in his hand.  It had never occurred to him that Yixing was sad as well; in his mind, he had always been the sad one and Yixing the one who was always okay, always helping others.

The ones with the kindest smiles are the ones who hurt the most inside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A/N I am so sorry about never updating.  I know it's tiring to hear this, but I'm not as inspired by Exo as before.  It's not about Kris and Luhan leaving, honestly.  But I'll try to finish this story, because it's my first and I've never finished a story before.  Please bear with me!  Thank you TT_TT

*the school/district name