Summary: Two surprises leave Yunho with a lot of questions about his future. Jae enjoys a coffee.

A.N.: If you’re a true Yunjae fan like I am, part of this chapter might be tough reading. It was hard to write, trust me! But I hope you can understand why that scene had to happen. Good stuff comes from it, I promise. And soon! ^^

—)(—

So tired. I drag myself down the hall to the practice room through sheer willpower alone. I feel betrayed by my own body. All these years of doing what I’ve asked of it—more than I asked—and now it resists even the simplest actions. Like walking. How much longer will I be like this? Fighting for every step forward? My doctor says I’m doing well and healing right on schedule. The exhaustion comes from hormonal fluctuations as my glands return to normal. I’ll be feeling like myself in no time, she says. And my speech therapist says that my voice should return within a few weeks, at this rate of recovery. God, I hope so. I can’t fail now. Not when I’m so close to my goal.

A wave of dizziness washes over me as I draw near our project group’s studio. Sweat beads my forehead. I need to rest for a moment before practice, or I’m not going to make it through. There. A row of green chairs right outside the room. I stagger over, almost groaning with relief as I sit. The hall is deserted, so no one saw me collapse, thank god. I don’t want them seeing me like this. This isn’t me. I’m not weak. I can’t wait to get past this ordeal and back to my normal life.

I tilt my head back against the cinderblock wall and close my eyes.

Familiar voices drift from the practice room. Heechul and Kangin are already in there, waiting for me and Jae to arrive. They’re speaking low, but every word rings clear in the stillness of the hall.

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen, but what if it does? We’re falling behind schedule. How much longer are we supposed to wait?” Kangin sounds frustrated.

“It’s only been a few weeks. It takes time to recover.”

“I get that. And I want to give him time, but… What if it takes longer than they think? Or what if he doesn’t recover? It happens. How long are we supposed to wait? The showcase is in a few months, and we’re making no progress because of Yunho.”

My eyes fly open. I’d only been half-listening, but Kangin’s words are a knife in my heart. He voiced my secret fear. I can’t escape the worry, waking or sleeping: What if I never get better?

I stare at the tiled hall floor, intent on the rest of their conversation.

It’s quiet for a moment, then Heechul speaks. “We owe him a chance. What if it were you? How would you feel if your members—your friends—dropped you at the first sign of trouble?”

“I’m not saying drop him. I’m saying we need a backup plan. If we all asked Seonsangnim togeth—“

Heechul’s tone is sharp. “All of us? Yunho too?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.” Heechul sighs. “Look, I get it. You’re worried about the future. We all are. Yunho more than any of us. Can’t you see how he’s beating himself up over this? He doesn’t need us piling on more pressure.” He gives a short laugh. “Besides, never in a million lifetimes will you get Jaejoong to agree. Not if it hurts Yunho. Trust me on that. Let’s just wait and see.”

“Fine.” Kangin sulks. “But my future’s at stake, too. I can’t wait much longer.”

“You won’t have to. Be patient.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“No?” There’s a husky undertone to Heechul’s voice that I’ve never heard before. “I thought you liked being told what to do.”

What the…what?

“Don’t you dare bring that up now.”

Heechul speaks in that strange, dark tone again. “Am I wrong?”

A long silence. Then Kangin speaks in a subdued voice, “No. But only sometimes.”

“Is this one of those times, hmm?”

Another long pause, filled with faint rustling noises.

“Stop. Someone might see us.” Kangin sounds breathless.

“Is that the end of the world? Being seen with me?”

“It’s not you. You know it’s not. You know why we can’t do this. It’s too dangerous.”

“I like a little danger.”

More rustling, then a low moan from Kangin.

My mouth drops open in shock. This can’t be what it sounds like. Is what I think is happening in there really happening? I have to find out. I carefully crane my neck to peek around the edge of the doorframe and peer into the studio.

Oh my god.

Heechul has Kangin backed up against the studio wall, pressing hard against him with the full length of his body. They’re kissing in a frenzy, Kangin’s hands fisted in the sides of Heechul’s shirt, pulling him close. His brows are drawn, eyes closed tight, as they strain together. They’re both breathing hard.

I want to look away, but I can’t. My mind can’t comprehend what it’s seeing. It’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined. Two men. I should feel disgusted, but I don’t. I feel…wonder. It can be like that? So different than with a girl. It’s rougher, more raw somehow. Powerful. Heat flares low in my belly.

Kangin turns his head, breaking the kiss. He pushes Heechul away. They look at each other in silence for a moment, chests heaving like they’ve just finished a fast routine.

Heechul wipes the corner of his mouth in an exaggerated way, eyeing Kangin the whole time.

“Nothing to say, my love?”

Kangin stares at him in bewilderment. “This is crazy. You make me crazy.” He seems stunned by what happened, by his own behavior. “I don’t recognize myself around you.”

Heechul’s gaze softens. He moves in close so they’re standing face to face. They’re the exact same height, their eyes level. He cups Kangin’s cheek with tenderness and murmurs, “Yes, you do. You’re just afraid to admit who you are.”

He leans in to kiss him again.

I back away from the door and slip silently down the hall. I don’t want them to know I saw. But my head is reeling. Kangin’s right. This is dangerous. They’re risking everything. Not just success, or the group, but everything. If they’re caught, SM will kick them out for sure. And that’s only the start. They’ll be ostracized by their families. Their friends. All of society. Korea isn’t ready.

I hope they know what they’re doing.

—)(—

Not again. Exhaustion strikes as I push open the door to my dorm room. I manage to toe off my shoes and drop my book bag before I collapse face down on the bed. I lie motionless on the cool linens, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Practice wiped me out again. My body is so enervated that you’d think I’d just run a marathon, not performed a simple dance routine. A few months ago, I wouldn’t even have broken a sweat over it. But I have no stamina at all anymore. At least my voice is back now. Sort of. It sounds different: ragged and raspy. It startles me every time it comes out of my mouth. I don’t