Jihoon-Woozi

Seungcheol-S.COUPS

Chan-Dino

Soonyoung-Hoshi

Seokmin-DK,Dokyeom

Hansol-Vernon

Jisoo-Joshua

_____

There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night.

-Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

_____

Seungkwan and Hansol lie in their dorm room, huddled up close together in the same bed. They were afraid to talk to one another but they stuck so close together that it was almost painful. After an hour of quiet lingering touches and unsure gazes, Hansol moved his upper body so he was looking down at Seungkwan.

“Are you okay?” Hansol asked, observing the dull-eyed boy whose eyes once shone with the stars.

“I don’t know,” he repeated once, then twice, and again, and again until Hansol had to softly shush him. The way Hansol moved, the way he hesitated to calm Seungkwan down by softly rubbing his cold arms showed just how separated they had become in a few days.

The days were short but to Seungkwan and Hansol, they had been long. Hansol could feel themselves being torn apart, being broken up and crushed. They’d suffer trying to find themselves again. He was aware of everything now, he was aware of their lost friendship, aware of the way they became too close, too lost within one another. Hansol couldn’t stop seeing it. Where before there had been an empty slate of just them laughing together, now there were the small touches, and the holding, and the way they smiled together. He felt sick.

“I can’t stay here anymore Hansol, I’m scared to death.”

“I am too.”

Seungkwan stopped staring blankly at the white of the sheets and looked up at Hansol whose face burned at the staring.

He looked away.

“I hate it here. I hate them, I hate myself,” Seungkwan mumbled bitterly, “I hate all of it.”

“Stop it,” Hansol threw away all of his hesitancy and hugged Seungkwan to himself tightly, no matter how much everyone inside his head laughed at him. No matter how much self-hatred bubbled up beneath the surface of his skin. No matter how much he yelled at himself to get away, he hugged Seungkwan as hard as he could.

Seungkwan tucked his face into Hansol’s body and muffled his sobs.

“We’ll figure this out.”

_____

Seungkwan avoided Hansol, he had just begun to find himself again. He had started to laugh a little too. He was beginning the healing process.

“For now, let’s live like we never knew each other. I think that’s the only way for us to be able to move on.” Hansol kept far away from Seungkwan who looked like he wasn’t listening to him at all. Hansol had packed up his things and now half of an empty room lay bare before Seungkwan’s eyes. It was odd because that room meant so much more to Seungkwan than just a place to sleep.

It held memories of their first day at Pledis Academy together. The way the sun shone too brightly on some days and not bright enough on others. He remembered watching Hansol read a book from across the room, letting the soft flip of the pages lull him to sleep. He remembered the late night talks and the all-nighter studying and the days when they wouldn’t even talk to each other. They’d come back from class, collapse in their beds and sleep. Then in the morning they’d do it all over again.

But they did it together. Isn’t that what made it all okay?

What would he do now that Hansol was moving out of his dorm room? Who would he talk to? Would he study by himself? Would he be able to sleep without the sight of Hansol there? He’d be alone. For the first time in a long time, he’d be truly alone.

“I’m sorry that all this happened. Maybe one day things can go back to the way they used to be.” Hansol whispered, as if he had read all that Seungkwan’s mind was worrying over.

Seungkwan watched as Hansol’s fingers gripped onto the door handle, ready to leave. Seungkwan wanted desperately to apologize too but he couldn’t find his voice. Even if he did, would he be able to tell him all that he wanted to?

“We can’t change anything that happened. That’s okay, Seungkwan.” Hansol softened his voice to a tender whisper, “That’s okay.”

He then flashed his signature grin at Seungkwan who nodded his head at his best friend’s words. A small smile appeared on his own face. Hansol turned and left the room.

It would be the last time they even looked at each other for the next year. If Seungkwan had known that he would have smiled a little brighter.

_____

Seungkwan barked out a small peal of laughter, hitting Hansol in the shoulder as they walked down the hallway. They were so wrapped up in one another that they hardly heard both Seungcheol and Jihoon bid Seungkwan goodbye as they walked into Musical Performance. Seungcheol glanced at Jihoon knowingly but the other neglected to look back. They could hear the two outside laughing as Hansol walked the opposite way to take Seungkwan to his class. Jihoon rubbed his neck awkwardly and headed to his seat in the corner.

Seungcheol didn’t go to his usual seat but he chose to sit next to Jihoon, with his eyes trained dutifully forward--searching for Mr. Jung who wasn’t there yet.

“It’s been a few days,” Seungcheol hinted, spinning his pencil in his left hand casually. He got comfortable in his seat as Jihoon became more and more tense. “I’m still open to talking, y’know.”

“Why are you sitting here?” Jihoon asked without looking over to Seungcheol whose eyes burned with curiosity. The air around them was incredibly heavy for Jihoon, but to Seungcheol, whose eyes were filled with the sight of a black-haired beauty illuminated with the winter light from the window, the air was much lighter than it had been the past few weeks. He could breathe. Finally breathe.

“Why’d you dye it?”

“Huh?”

“Your hair, you dyed it black.” Seungcheol took his pencil and lifted a chunk of his hair obtrusively. Jihoon swatted him away angrily. He didn’t answer him but he did turn his head away, giving Seungcheol the perfect view of his profile. The long curve of his nose, the dark, almost black-brown of his eyes. Even the eyelashes that seemed to constantly fan the fire behind his eyes. Seungcheol was staring.

“It looks good either way. The pink suited you though,” he thought back to the dream that he had on the ocean shore, “somehow…”

“The pink made me stand out.” Jihoon said, then--realizing what he said--shut his mouth tight and looked further into the distance of the window, wishing to break through it and fly far away.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

Jihoon scoffed.

“Here, it is.”

Seungcheol wanted to say more but he knew he’d only get more backlash from Jihoon if he did. He could say a lot of things, some weird, and some not-so-weird. No matter. It would still make him angry. So full of tender rage, and beautiful intensity.

Jihoon was right to be full of anger. It was the right time, and the right place, and with the right person. Seungcheol loved seeing that rage because it meant he was still fighting, for whatever it was. For whoever it was. Seungcheol sighed. Yes, he was still fighting. That was good.

“Everyone, pay attention please!”

Mr. Jung stood tall in his black draping robes and his new gold-rimmed glasses. He extended his arms dramatically and brought them down like he was signalling something but nothing had happened. Ultimately, everyone quieted down.

“Yes, thank you.”

Seungcheol leaned back in his seat a bit so he could see if Jihoon was looking forward or not.

He was.

“In total, we have four Musical Performance classes,” Mr. Jung said holding up four perfectly poised fingers. “All of which hold many vocal students. Does anyone know what that means?”

“Vocal students? Wait, don’t tell me…” Han Byul rolled his eyes. This had happened a few times before in Mr. Jung’s class. His groan traveled from the back of the classroom all the way to the front. “A position opened up at the World Academy of the Arts?” The name that he had once had trouble pronouncing now rolled off his tongue fluently, with grace.

Mr. Jung clapped excitedly, his robes flared back and forth like a flowing waterfall. Seungcheol looked over to see Jihoon’s reaction but it didn’t even look like he was listening. His eyes were trained on the desk in front of him and his chest moved slowly, up and down--almost mechanically.

“That’s right everyone.”

“You’re not going to make everyone apply again are you?” A student asked from the corner. “Everyone knows the vocal student with the highest overall score always gets accepted,” he whined.

“I don’t even have a passing score in general,” someone else chimed in. Mr. Jung scolded him with a glare.

“I expect all of you to work hard for this position. Only one vocal student gets accepted from Pledis, practically every other year!” He exclaimed, “You’ll be transferred right away at the end of the semester.”

“You always favored the vocal students,” Seungcheol mumbled. Jihoon looked over to him expectantly, thinking he was talking to him.

“Jihoon is a great contender, so is Youngjae, and even you Han Byul,” Mr. Jung smiled. “This is the world’s best Academy and world’s best opportunity. Please don’t disappoint me.”

Jihoon looked up suddenly at hearing his name. He glanced back at Seungcheol’s relaxed form with a question painted on his face: what the hell is going on?

Seungcheol smiled a little.

“Now, shall we get to the lesson for today? In studying stage presence, the main rule that everyone must remember…”

_____

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Jihoon read the messages from the screen on his phone. His chest constricted tightly as he then glanced at all the homework that lay on his desk. It was already 9:30 p.m. and he’d done nothing. Nothing real with his time.

Just more and more workbooks whose letters slipped away on the tufts of his dreams and were gone by the next day--when the sun peeked through the clouds of the winter sky. He never remembered any of it. He knew some things, and then there were other things that he didn’t know but there wasn’t any heart in it. There was no feeling, no happiness, no sadness or anger in anything that he was doing.

He was a damn robot by now. He’d pretended to be a human and then suddenly he built himself up to be a mechanical thing with arms and legs, and his heart ticked like a time bomb and suddenly he longed to be human again--even if he was pretending. That damn hummingbird in his chest wouldn’t go away either...Minseo loved that little bird…what was he doing again?

Jihoon rubbed at his tired eyes and shuffled through the papers on his desk. Ah, that’s right. He was doing nothing. All of this was nothing. Despite being overwhelmed, Jihoon focused his eyes on the monitor in front of him.

Thank you, Zi. I owe you for this.

If there is anything you need, I’m here.

I promise.

Jihoon closed his eyes and tried to ignore the desperation that he sensed in Seungcheol’s messages. He’d do the song. Of course he’d do it. He had no other choice and he wasn’t going to let anybody else down. No, not Seungcheol, not Seventeen, not anybody. He seen the look in Soonyoung and Chan’s eyes. As if destruction was waiting for him around the corner. They couldn’t see it, but they could sense it. Any little thing would set him off, would destroy everything. He didn’t want to be controlled like that. He could already barely control himself...he needed something--and producing this song was it.

He gathered his unfinished homework and stuffed it into his open and nearly empty backpack. He then looked to the corner where his music equipment was herded into the corner. He glanced back at Seungkwan who was gluing a collage together of model’s heads and animals bodies. Jihoon made a disgusted face and slowly began to pack his things up.

Seungkwan looked over at the movement.

“Where ya goin’?” He asked, holding the glue stick up and picking a piece of fluff out of the tacky substance.

Jihoon shrugged his backpack over his shoulder and wrapped up his equipment into a small bag and held it close to his chest, “Out.”

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow and stuck another piece of paper to his collage.

“It’s past curfew-”

Jihoon rushed out of the room quickly, slamming the door as he left.

Seungkwan shrugged, “Okay then.”

He laughed softly as he glued down another picture.

Jihoon hurried down the quiet hallway, his boots tapped softly on the stairwell stairs until he reached the bottom where the double doors sat in front of him. He looked through the glass windows to check if it was clear.

The dark of the moonlight welcomed him outside. The neatly trimmed grass was dusted lightly with frost. The trees swayed within the sparkling air, making Jihoon want to close his eyes and fall asleep within the quiet of the winter moonlight. But he wouldn’t.

He’d work tirelessly on this one thing he could control.

_____

“We have a little over three weeks left until the competition,” Wonwoo slid his round glasses down the long bridge of his nose and glanced over to Mingyu. “Is there anything we should be working on now? You know how this group is when it comes to procrastination.”

Mingyu stuffed his mouth with the rest of his stew without answering. The atmosphere around the dinner table was quiet, since nobody was usually around at 8 p.m. Seungkwan picked at his food. All the talk of Seventeen’s to-do list was stressing him out. They had another meeting after late dinner that would last until early morning. Seungkwan was already halfway asleep so he didn’t know how he’d survive the rest of the night.

On the other side of the table, Jihoon tapped his lithe fingers on the table impatiently. He was waiting for them to mention the song that “Woozi” hadn’t yet finished but they hadn’t even begun to talk about that.

“I guess we should start practicing for the group dance,” Mingyu said. His eyes looked up at the ceiling where the rafters loomed intimidatingly over them. “We’ve been focusing too much on the units.” The lights were dimmer than usual, making everyone even more sleepy. If Seungkwan wasn’t already falling asleep before, he was now.

“Hey, wake up!” Wonwoo took his pencil and poked Seungkwan’s forehead with the sharp lead. Seungkwan jumped back, eyes wide.

“Wonwoo!”

“Okay, no more poking each other with pencils. That’s dangerous.”

“Hey, guys.” Hansol waltzed through the door in a thin sweatshirt with an expensive laptop tucked underneath his arm. Seungkwan scooted over quickly to let his friend in their little circle. “Seungcheol sent me to remind you guys that-”

“Practice starts in 30 minutes, we know.” Mingyu deadpanned.

Soonyoung suddenly peeked his head into the refectory door and smiled brightly. Seokmin followed behind, with a skip in his step and a smile painted brightly on his face. Jihoon smiled at the two.

“Hey-o!” He greeted, with his hand outstretched in a friendly wave.

“What’s everyone doing here? You guys didn’t eat dinner yet?” Seokmin asked and squished himself into their little table circle. Soonyoung loomed around behind Jihoon, massaging his shoulders absentmindedly.

“No thanks to Wonwoo. He forgot to plan the agenda for today’s meeting.” Mingyu jutted his spoon in Wonwoo’s direction.

“You guys are a mess.”

“Don’t blame me! Mingyu was the one that didn’t remind me!”

“I’m not going to remind you all the time.”

“Maybe you should keep a planner.”

“A planner? He can barely keep himself a girlfriend.”

“Mingyu!”

Jihoon quietly removed Soonyoung’s nimble fingers from his shoulders and took his plate and bowl to the back of the room, returning the dinnerware. Nobody noticed him leaving. Jihoon glanced back into the dining hall, they were all still arguing except Soonyoung had taken his seat and joined in on the conversation.

Jihoon hadn’t even been paying attention to what they were saying. All he could think about was the song that wasn’t finished, and the three weeks until the competition, and the sickness that infested his sister, spreading to every inch of her body like a lightning strike.

He noticed the sudden darkness of the campus, like the night a few days ago. His thin sweater was barely enough to keep out the biting wind that had suddenly brushed through Pledis Academy these past few nights. He was sure that things weren’t normally this bleak, but he’d always been racked with painful anxiousness when it came to Minseo. These days he could barely sleep. The previous 6 hours had dwindled to a mere 2 or 3 a night.

Sometimes he slept through classes, even in Musical Performance, where Seungcheol had taken to sitting next to him. If he could slowly drift off even with his rigid robot of a body then he was sure that he was sleep deprived and horribly sick with melancholia and anxiety. He could barely look Seungkwan in the eye when he asked him if everything was okay. Sometimes he’d stumbled into the room and catch Jihoon staring at the wall bleary-eyed and near the edge of a breakdown.

“It gets hard sometimes.”

Seungkwan would say. His consoling had fallen upon deaf ears. Every reassurance that Seungkwan gave him just made him more and more worried.

He’d wake up within his two hours of sleep, and just sit there with an emptiness in his chest and his sleeping shadow chilling his body like a monster under the bed that was waiting to drag him to hell. Suddenly he wished that somebody would give him something to cry about. Something physical. Just to make his skin scream so he wouldn’t have to.

Jihoon scolded himself. No, he couldn’t think like that. He just had to keep standing. Just keep standing.

He moved towards the practice room building near the back of the school. It was odd. Right before curfew there were quiet murmurs everywhere that made Jihoon want to become lost within conversations that barely existed. They didn’t shout, they didn’t make him feel overwhelmed. They gave him something to listen to. It was just enough to cradle him so he didn’t fall into the dredges of his muddled, re-occuring, leftover thoughts.

He took his time in listening, then he entered into the building. His heartbeat sped up. Faster, faster, faster. That little hummingbird was dying to get out, to escape and find the love of its life. It would nestle itself into Minseo’s tiny palms and be content. That bird hated him. Jihoon was sure of it.

His own pulse shattered his entire being.

“Jihoon.”

He looked up into the eyes of Seungcheol.

He had already entered into the practice room. Nobody was there yet. Just him and four mirrored walls that reflected back too many versions of himself. Nervous and raw.

Don’t look.

His eyes burned.

A familiar friend.

Their souls were connected.

Why was he looking at him like that?

Jihoon searched his face. He looked incredibly concerned.

Don’t give me pity. I can’t take it. Just ignore me like you always have. I can stomach that. I can deal with it, even if it makes me hate you.

Seungcheol continued to watch him.

Look away, his mind whispered.

I’m losing it. I’m losing my mind for real this time.

Jihoon waited with baited breath for Seungcheol to say something. Just anything. He could take anything except, “It’s going to be okay.”

“Come here.” Seungcheol turned and walked to the other side of the room where his music system was set up.

Jihoon’s hesitant footsteps followed Seungcheol, he still wasn’t breathing correctly. Was he breathing at all? Maybe he was breathing too much. Too heavily.

“Sit,” he commanded, though he was gentle in the way he gestured to the white chair a few inches away. All at once Jihoon could feel their auras fighting, their very existence clashing together in a brutal dance. He wanted so desperately for the taut air to dissipate but Seungcheol didn’t even seem to notice. If he did, he didn’t show it. No, his eyes were still lowered in a calming way, and the way he held himself was like he was walking on air constantly. It was as if nothing was weighing him down.

Jihoon sat down in the chair.

“Here,” Seungcheol took a pair of nearby headphones--which seemed like his own--and settled them over his head, completely covering his ears. The world was gone suddenly. At the silence, he closed his eyes and there was nothing.

With the silence came the thoughts, and the fluttering of his heart. He reached up to take the headphones off but right as he was about to, a melody flooded his ears.

It was a ballad.

Jihoon couldn’t immediately place where the song was from but that didn’t matter. Seungcheol had chosen it to show to Jihoon. He let the song run and then he walked across the room to a small table where he resumed doing some work. Jihoon closed his eyes and let himself be distracted.

This was better than any murmuring in the courtyards or the empty classrooms. This was much better.

He let his head hang and his eyes fall closed. No thoughts, no thoughts, no thoughts...nothing.

_____

By the middle of practice, everyone had already collapsed on the floor so Seungcheol didn’t even try to get them up again. Jihoon especially was worn out, but he didn’t let himself show it. He could already see how terrible Seungkwan looked, dazed with red-rimmed eyes and dark circles.

Jihoon had always respected hard workers, but knowing that Seventeen had always worked this hard in addition to their school work made him that much more amazed. Even if some of them seemed like they didn’t respect him back--mainly Jeonghan--he still wondered how they did it all.

Surprisingly, these days Jeonghan had been oddly quiet. Even the few times that Jeonghan directed a snarky comment at him, Seungcheol would immediately stop the insult, much to his--and Seventeen’s--surprise.

That was most likely due to his confession that one night in the dance room. Jihoon didn’t want to be defended by the one person who had hurt him the most though he found himself caring about little things like that less and less. He had enough to worry about without being petty about who defended him and who didn’t. Sometimes things were the way they were without explanation.

“Okay, everyone.” Seungcheol wiped the sweat from his forehead on the shirt of his sleeve. Everyone perked up at his loud voice. “Let’s practice some songs. Can’t have any of you falling asleep just yet.”

“What are we practicing?” Chan asked curiously. He was still wide-awake and energized, making everyone else stare in awe at his young passion.

“Freestyle,” Seungcheol sat up straight and motioned to Jihoon and Joshua. “You guys can play guitar the best.”

Joshua immediately got up and grabbed his guitar from the corner. He returned to their lazy circle and strummed lightly.

“Jihoon, where’s your guitar?” Seungcheol asked.

Jihoon shrugged and shook his head. His guitar had gotten wet that one day after auditions when he had left it lying on the ground in the rain. Dumb mistake, but the guitar was barely worth the attention anyway.

“It’s ruined.” Jihoon mumbled.

“You can use mine-” Joshua was about to hand the instrument to Jihoon but Seungcheol stopped him.

“No, here.” Seungcheol pulled himself off the ground and went to the corner where a case held the guitar that Jihoon knew he never learned to play. If they had been on better terms he could have taught him.

He unlocked the case and picked his guitar up and came back to the circle. Some of the members were paying attention to the interaction but most weren’t.

“You can have mine.”

Jihoon stared up at him from behind his sweaty bangs, the bewildered look on his face must have been funny because Seungcheol had laughed.

“Wha--?” Jihoon tangled his hands together sharply, uncomfortably. Seungcheol set the guitar in Jihoon’s lap when he wouldn’t hold it. “I can’t take your guitar...I thought you were going to learn.”

Jihoon reluctantly wrapped his fingers gently around the neck of the guitar. Being reunited with the beautiful instrument once again felt incredibly good. He hadn’t played once since last year.

“I can get another one if I ever decide to start again. I just don’t have the time right now.” He rubbed at the nape of his neck. “I feel bad letting it collect dust and I think it’s better off in your hands anyway. Just...don’t ruin it like your other one.”

Jihoon gingerly picked up the guitar and adjusted it in his arms. Joshua whistled lowly from the corner.

He didn’t know what to say, or do. Seungcheol had just gifted him an expensive guitar, though it probably didn’t even mean much to him--it meant the world to Jihoon.

He cleared his throat and managed a meek, “thank you.”

With that, both Joshua and Jihoon had taken turns coming up with different impromptu songs. They took some seriously, but Seungkwan and Soonyoung mostly just came up with ridiculous lyrics that made everyone laugh.

After a few more songs, everyone was awake and ready to begin practice once again. The time was nearly 3 a.m.

“Let’s work hard until the end, guys.” Seungcheol said brightly.

“We’ll get number one!” Soonyoung shouted, causing everyone to shout along.

Jihoon couldn’t find it in himself to get excited along with everyone else. He just let the loudness of the room fill him up until he felt nothing but the other twelve’s presence inside every crevice of his body. Filling up the cracks, and clearing out the spider webs and the doubt.

_____

10 a.m.

WooZi online

S.COUPS online

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I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.

I didn’t know whether to confront you about it or not.

I kept losing sleep over it for the longest time.

Even now, I’m turning the possibility over in my head...

So...I’m just going to say it, because I trust you.

You know my name, don’t you?

You know who I am.

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Just tell me, I won’t be mad.

Do you go to school with me?

Did you find me online somehow?

Don’t ignore me Woozi.

Say something, at least.

Damn it, just reply back please.

WooZi offline

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Okay, then.

For how long?

How long did you know? Why didn’t you say anything?

What’s your name?

I’m just confused now, Woozi. I don’t get it.

For the first time, I don’t get you.

Help me understand.

When you get these messages, please reply back.

I’m not upset.

I’m just confused.

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