#kyuhyun is brushing his teeth

[kpopimaginings]

“What’s going on?” - Kyuhyun

It had been a distinctly average day. You got up, went to work and came home again uneventfully. The best part of the day was getting home and changing straight into your pyjamas for an evening of doing nothing in particular.

Your evening of planned nothing-ness was surprisingly tiring, so you started your evening routine. You were halfway through brushing your teeth when your phone screen lit up, with your favourite kind of notification. You quickly rinsed your mouth and answered.

“Hyunnie,” you squealed down the phone. “Missing you.”

“Missing you too, jagi,” he responded and you could tell he was smiling just from the tone of his voice. “How has your day been?”

“Dull. I bet yours has been more exciting.”

“I doubt it, I’ve been travelling all day.”

You always tried to keep track of your boyfriends schedule when he was away so you knew what time zone he was in, when he wouldn’t be able to respond, and you were sure this wasn’t a travel day. You headed to your room to check the calendar as you continued talking.

“Travelling?” you asked.

“Yeah, I do that a lot you know,” he answered sarcastically.

“I know that!” you sighed. “But today isn’t a travel day. You did press yesterday, then today was down time because your show isn’t until tomorrow evening.”

“Wow, you know my schedule better than my agent.”

“Kyuhyun, what’s going on?” you asked, you could feel yourself starting to panic. What if something had happened? Was there some sort of emergency that forced him to move on unexpectedly?

“Open the door.”

“What door? Why?”

“What do you mean what door?” he laughed down the phone. “The front door, baby.”

You headed to the front door as requested. You could feel your heartbeat speed up noticeably, but tried your best to calm it, not wanting to believe your first thought. You didn’t want to be let down.

Hesitantly, you pulled the door open.

“Surprise!” called Kyuhyun, hanging his phone up and pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Wha- How? Why?” you asked, shocked.

“I wanted to see my beautiful girlfriend, why do you think?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled, but won’t you need to leave first thing?”

“Can I come in?”

You’d forgotten you were still stood at the door, blocking his entrance to your apartment. As you stood aside he answered you.

“I thought I’d take you with me. Fancy coming to a concert tomorrow night?”

“I love you,” you told him as you simply walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he smiled, hugging you back.

NAVIGATION  |  SUPER JUNIOR MASTERLIST

[jasonbehrs]

let me be your guarantee

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

"You could stand to be a bit more selfish, you know."

"You could stand to be a bit more courteous in general, so I guess we both have things we need to work on."

fandom: kpop, super junior characters: ryeowook, kyuhyun ship: kyuwook genre: friendship, romance themes: genderbent, rule 63, high school, a day in the life, fluff (arguable) word count: 5.2k

read it below or on ffnet, wattpad, aff, or (new!) ao3

A/N (8.27.2021): I have no heterosexual explanation for the effects Ryeowook and Kyuhyun in drag have on me (or my creative process, evidently).

Rating for mildly suggestive language and graphic depictions of geometry. Title comes from Poster Girl by the Backstreet Boys. Cover art made by me. Thanks to Amy for the beta! (Even though you're already so over high school, haha.)

Uploading this as part of kyuwook month on twitter! I actually was gonna publish it wayyy back on July 21, but I waited so I could participate in ryeonamickyuo's #kyuwooksaturdays event on twitter lol. #marketing

~~~

A soothing chime alarm wakes Ryeowook up before dawn. She lets herself stretch in bed, enjoying the warm comfort of her blankets for a moment longer before getting up for a shower. She changes into the outfit she had prepared the night before: a sparkly white sweater and a pink skirt fluffed with tulle, and she painstakingly dries and curls her long lavender hair just the way she likes it before applying some light makeup. After scrutinising her appearance for another minute, she decides to add a small braid to her hair for fun.

With ease and minimal noise, Ryeowook flits through the kitchen to make enough breakfast for her and her parents. She's feeling like sweet potatoes and tofu this morning. She leaves her parents' portions in the oven to stay warm before serving herself, and she mentally checks through yesterday's to-do list to make sure she's all set for today while she chews.

Her homework is printed and neatly filed in their own plastic sleeves as a sustainable alternative to staples.

The cinnamon rolls she made the night before, with a small batch of gluten-free versions set aside, are individually packed in a tin waiting in the fridge.

After she brushes her teeth and puts on her silver flats, she'll be all ready for the walk to school.

Satisfied with her preparations, Ryeowook hums softly to herself as she washes the dishes after eating. With the sink by the kitchen window, she is able to catch the first rays of sunlight streak across the brightening sky, and she smiles. Today is going to be a good day.

~~~

Today is already a shit day.

The alarm blares once again after snoozing it for the third time just as someone bangs on her door, and the annoying sunlight shining through her bedroom window manages to directly hit her eyes. Kyuhyun frowns into her pillow. She was having an excellent dream about kimchi ramen that is already slipping out of her grasp the more she joins the land of the conscious.

She spares a second to flip the bird in Ahra's direction, knowing full well her older sister won't see it through the closed door, before rummaging through her unruly closet for whatever passes the sniff test. She changes into a pleather bodycon skirt (just long enough to meet the school's dress code, but no longer) and a long-sleeve red crop top in a half-awake daze.

Kyuhyun offhandedly recalls she left her homework in the printer last night. Hopefully she remembers to stuff that in her bag before she leaves.

Not one for morning showers, she simply runs a brush through her silky blonde hair a few times just to get the birds' nests out, wipes the oil off her face, and swipes on a thick cat eye to complete her look.

At the breakfast table, Kyuhyun eats in silence while ignoring the looks her dad gives her, no doubt at her mildly revealing outfit. She gives him a side hug anyway before leaving her dishes in the sink for later. She finishes her morning routine, grabs her keys and homework, and shuts the door behind her when she leaves for school.

~~~

Ryeowook cheerily pushes open the school doors with plenty of time left before the first bell. Instead of her locker, she walks purposefully through the hallways for the principal's office.

"Good morning, Ryeowook!" the matronly receptionist-cum-secretary greets when she sees Ryeowook sweep in.

"Good morning, Mrs. Oh!" Ryeowook chirps. "How has your hypoglycemia been treating you?" she asks as she gathers the paperwork she needs for her homeroom duties.

"Probably better if I remembered to eat breakfast in the mornings," Mrs. Oh responds with good humour, pushing her butterfly-themed sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose.

"I thought you might say that," Ryeowook says while rummaging through her bag. "Here, I made these last night. It's gluten-free, and you can't even tell!" She offers a cinnamon roll from her tin, and she smiles at the way Mrs. Oh lights up at the sight.

"Oh, Ryeowook! You're such a dear!" Mrs. Oh effuses.

Ryeowook bows in acknowledgement and waves goodbye, the papers for homeroom loose in her hand. She finally makes her way to her locker—the inside decorated with magnets, pictures, and a helpful calendar—so that she can get the books she'll need for all her pre-lunch classes.

In the hallways, she is greeted at every turn.

"Hey, Ryeowook! I hope you had a great weekend!" "I did, thanks! Happy Monday!"

"Oh my god, your outfit is completely adorable. It really brings out the lavender of your hair." "Wow, you think? I'll invest in more pink then~"

"Thanks so much for helping with the banner last week! It was a hit at our event; everyone wanted a photo with it." "No problem; I'm so glad to hear that! Like I always say, there's no such thing as too much glitter!"

These microtransactions of joy she gets while walking through the halls energise her like nothing else. She loves being helpful and knowing people care about her enough to say hi. It makes her life as a member of the school's community and as a student leader so fulfilling.

She makes it into homeroom with a minute to spare, sets her stuff at her desk, then places the tin of cinnamon rolls on the teachers' desk for everyone's enjoyment.

The bell rings, and the wattage turns up on her smile. "Good morning!" she calls out, easily cutting through the chatter with her high and bright voice. "There are cinnamon rolls at the front for everyone. Feel free to grab some while I take attendance. The ones swirled in a clockwise pattern are gluten free, so please save them for those with that dietary restriction!"

The typical gratitudes spill out—"Oh my god, these taste amazing." "You're so thoughtful, Ryeowook!" "Please marry me."—and she preens at the praise as she goes down the list in her hand.

It isn't until she gets to a specific name near the top, until she doesn't hear the typical 'Present!' that should follow, that she gives her first frown of the day.

She quickly shakes it off and finishes up, returning to her seat with every intention to rehearse her presentation one more time before the bell ending homeroom rings.

~~~

Kyuhyun steps into school right after the warning bell for first period rings, and she seamlessly joins the throngs of people hustling to their first class.

Well, she would join them, if there were throngs to join. Students stop in their tracks and fall silent as soon as they sense her presence, causing nearby students to quiet in confusion then in understanding such that a bubble of non-motion and non-noise follows her as she walks. The typical morning chatter resumes at a lowered volume from a safe distance of six feet behind her, and she is vain enough to presume at least 40% of those conversations are about her.

The stares go unacknowledged of course. So do the hapless love declarations from desperate freshmen and presumptive date offers from cocky upperclassmen. They might as well have said, "Kyuhyun, I bet you don't have better things to do with your time than stroke my ego and go dutch on an oily dinner at a chain restaurant after school." As if.

While leaving another potential suitor in the dust, a janitor accidentally turns on an industrial fan facing her direction just as she takes off her sunglasses. Coupled with the paused state of her classmates, her languid pace through the hall looks like a slow-motion runway walk that even Naomi Campbell in her prime would envy.

Kyuhyun's locker is empty save for the jacket she just shoved into it, then she goes straight to her first class of the day. She slides into her seat—not all the way in the back; cliche, much?—and, as if on cue, the whispers start.

"Do you think her hair is natural?' "Of course not, look at her eyebrows." "She could be dyeing her eyebrows!"

"I heard she drives to school? I thought only third-years and up were allowed to do that!" "I don't think allowances are all it takes to stop someone like her."

"Cho Kyuhyun in red should be one of the seven deadly sins." "That sin already exists, and it's called 'lust,' bro." "No no no no no. There's lust, and there's Cho Kyuhyun in red."

Strangers referring to you by your full name in some sort of layman's equivalent of a celebrity mononym has such a satisfying, powerful feel to it. Alas, save for a sly smirk, these too are ignored.

The smirk is promptly wiped off her face as soon as the teacher walks in, as if their life's greatest joy is teaching 16 year-olds about Korean peninsular history at 8:30 in the morning, and Kyuhyun already lolls her head back in disinterest.

~~~

Ryeowook snaps her hand up, a lone beacon of preparedness in a sea of bored or anxious faces.

"Thanks for volunteering, Ryeowook! Whenever you're ready." The teacher gestures to the podium with a sweep of their hands, pleased with the student's enthusiasm.

Ryeowook flounces out of her seat to the front of the classroom and loads up her presentation on the laptop hooked up to the projector. "S.E.S. as a Pop Culture Juggernaut" appears on screen in bold letters, and the subtle sounds of rustling fill the classroom as students sit up in interest.

"Good morning, everyone! Today I'm going to present on the seminal idol girl group S.E.S. Through interdisciplinary and anthropological analysis, I will illustrate how the mark they've left on Korean culture at the time of their debut carries ripple effects on the entertainment industry that can be observed to this day."

She takes a moment to look over the surprised and interested faces of her classmates and teacher, then smiles internally. She's going to crush this.

She clicks to the next slide. "S.E.S. is a girl group that debuted in 1997 under SM Entertainment. That may seem like a fairly innocuous sentence on its own; in which case, I'll inform you that they are the first girl group ever debuted in K-pop history…"

When the class learned their Forensics and Communication midterm assignment would be free-form, many of her classmates asked if she'd partner with them for a debate. Their topics were interesting enough. She would have customarily had little problem arguing on the cost-benefit analysis of a college education or the validity of prison sentences served overseas (to name a few).

But she graciously turned them all down. In her heart, she knew she'd simply enjoy it more if she gave a presentation on something more personal… and studies show passion for your work drives results. She expects nothing less than an A+.

Thanks to the confident excitement lacing her voice and a powerpoint that took her two weeks to perfect, she handily grabs the interest and attention of every student in the class, even the ones typically uninterested in idol culture. She winds up leading the class in a discussion on the inherent greater interest the Korean general public reserves for girl groups in contrast to the supersaturated boy band market, and the teacher has to regretfully cut them short to allow for the other midterm assignments that had to be seen that day.

"Thanks again, Ryeowook, for that illuminating and impassioned presentation! Why don't we keep that energy going, hmm? I know it may seem like a tough act to follow, but who's ready to present next?"

Expecting the worst, the teacher is pleasantly surprised when a majority of the class raises their hands to volunteer. The teacher looks over at Ryeowook and sends a quick wink in thanks, and Ryeowook gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

~~~

Kyuhyun clicks 'downvote' on a thread in the r/poppunk subreddit. As if Retrieve Me the Skyline has anything on Querying Quinn.

Just then, she senses a presence walk up to her desk. She lifts her eyes up from her phone—hidden behind an obviously strategically upright notebook in a semblance of respect for the teacher—to find said teacher looking at her disapprovingly. She sighs without remorse and puts her cellphone away, not one to fight once she's caught red-handed.

"Thank you, Ms. Cho. Now, as I was saying: Just like how Korean borrows from Chinese and English words, English borrows words from many other cultures. This is part of why their grammar rules are so inconsistent. Therefore, it may be helpful to learn the etymology of certain words to reinforce these rules. For example, 'geese' is the plural form of 'goose' because 'goose' was borrowed from German, and Proto-Germanic grammar does allow for plural forms for their nouns. On the other hand, 'moose' does not pluralise to 'meese' because it was borrowed from an Indigenous American language which did not pluralise their nouns."

Kyuhyun barely has the presence of mind to suppress a groan. If this is supposed to be an English class, why is the teacher talking about German all of a sudden? She isn't gaining any more while paying attention as she was while scrolling on her phone! This is why she doesn't bother. It would take her less time and less effort to simply read the textbook.

Honestly, that's how she usually spends her classes. She's not against learning necessarily—if she has to be here, she might as well—but she is against the fluff shit that most teachers feel the need to sprinkle in to keep people's attention or reinforce learning. If it's not going to be on the national exam at the end of the year, it's just a waste of time.

It doesn't help that Kyuhyun's a whole league above the mouthbreathers in this high school anyway. What other people need several hours of studying to understand sinks in for her after a single lecture. She has the makings to be every teacher's dream student, but she's made it very clear: Don't make her participate in class, and she won't eviscerate their self-esteem in exchange. It's an elegant system with an 87.5% success rate.

As her schedule has it, the only class where it doesn't work is her next one. The phys ed grade is almost entirely predicated on participation; and unfortunately for her, the venn diagram of men who have already had their insecurities abused to the point of desensitisation by their superiors during conscription and men who decide to become high school PE teachers seems to be a circle.

Her solution for this class is admittedly less elegant.

Even as the next period is just about to begin and the halls thin out, Kyuhyun still manages to easily breeze past the bumbling office receptionist trying to prevent her from leaving the grounds during school hours.

(Hey, she's gonna get a 0 for participation whether she's wasting time sitting on the bleachers and bored out of her mind or whether she's going to the mall to grab the new Napping with Nixies album. Might as well do the fun one. Bonus: instead of paying the Korean public school system for the rehydrated prison rations they consider 'food,' she can grab lunch at the foodcourt!)

~~~

Ryeowook spends her lunch period like a jetsetting CEO, the precious few minutes taken up by meetings with various teachers, students, and—today—even an administrator.

"Thanks so much for taking the time to meet with me, Ryeowook."

"Of course, Mr. Park! I'm happy to represent the needs of my class. Let me know if I can help with this initiative again later once it gains more momentum."

"I certainly will. Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Kim," Mr. Park replies warmly, his deep voice and barrel-chested physique radiating authority and paternity.

The administrator walks her out of his office, and they bow to each other at the door. The clock in the hallway tells her there is barely any time to make it to the cafeteria and eat a meal, so she sighs and resignedly walks back to her locker to exchange her books with the ones she'd need for her post-lunch classes.

She remembers there is a vending machine along the way to her next classroom, so she pivots her route slightly so that she can pick up a granola bar and a bottle of water. They'll be easy to finish before class starts.

"You know, you'd have time to eat a real lunch and attend your precious meetings if they just expanded our lunch hour to be an actual hour," a voice says from behind her just as she feeds a paper bill into the machine.

"I don't mind. It means we have more time spent in our classes."

She bends at the knee to retrieve her purchases then gracefully hops back up to twirl on her heel, steadfastly ignoring the other's presence as she continues on her way.

"I think we can definitely stand to spend less time in class. Come on; we already sacrifice the most formative years of our lives confined to these 'hallowed halls,' and they can't even let us digest our meals properly?" her nuisance heckles as Ryeowook is followed.

"I bet the Student Council would love to have an impassioned, opinionated person such as yourself on the panel. If you have ideas for change, you're free to share them with people who are empowered to do something about it," Ryeowook comments mildly, gaze trained forward even as the other pulls up beside her.

"The student council is a mockery of democracy and only serves as a mere figurehead for the students' collective political and bartering power to the school administration, and you know it."

Finally, Ryeowook stops. She squares her shoulders and looks her antagoniser in the eye. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mock an extracurricular about which I'm very passionate to my face, Kyuhyun-ssi."

The taller smirks. "As much as you'd appreciate time to sit and eat lunch with your friends for once?"

They are not alone in the hallway they've entered into. With an almost imperceptible turn of her head, Ryeowook can even see some students eavesdropping on their conversation, eager to hypothesise with their friends what the two most popular girls in school yet for completely opposite reasons are doing talking to each other.

"Hey, isn't that Kim Ryeowook?" "Talking to Cho Kyuhyun?" "Hold up, they know each other?"

If she could hear them, then they could certainly hear her, and that reminder is enough to reign in her annoyance. She allows herself ten seconds to collect her composure.

When she speaks again, her voice is airy and pleasant. "Well, if that's all, I have to go and spend what's left of my lunch period doing something a little more constructive than arguing with someone who'd rather complain than make the best of a situation. If you'll excuse me."

"You should have gotten fig newtons!" Kyuhyun calls as Ryeowook moves around her. Ryeowook counts it as a small blessing that the other does not follow. "They're easier to eat in class! Less noisy."

"You're not allowed to eat food in class," Ryeowook retorts plainly without even turning her head.

She can feel the other's eyes on her as she walks away, but she ignores it as she takes a swig of her water.

(She finishes her bar before crossing the threshold of the classroom, arriving before even the teacher does and finding a half of a sandwich wrap from the deli across the street waiting on her desk.)

~~~

The surface of Kyuhyun's desk is empty save for her arms and elbows organised to support her languid daydreaming. Outside the window, she watches as three red cars pass by.

More so than her other subjects, math just makes sense to her without even trying. There's less up for interpretation, there are consistent and logical rules, and patterns are clearer with numbers.

If she doesn't need to try, then why would she? So she hands in passable attempts at homework, texts throughout lecture, and is generally unresponsive during the class. Ms. Kang would love nothing more than to suspend her for insubordination and churlishness; but Kyuhyun is her best student by far, and they both know it.

"If the altitude of right triangle ABC intersects with the hypotenuse at D, what equation is always true?"

In fact, Kyuhyun would want to skip this class too, but there's just something about its specific learning environment that keeps her attending lesson after lesson.

In her periphery, the student in front of her and one row over hurriedly draws out the question in her notebook to analyse it. She raises her hand in excitement a moment later.

"Yes, Ryeowook?" "AD over AC is equal to AC over BD!"

Kyuhyun suppresses a scoff. The teacher smiles sympathetically, knowing that Ryeowook is doing her best, and says, "Sorry, but no."

Ryeowook pouts. "Aigoooo," she intones as she looks back at her drawing, no doubt trying to understand where she went wrong.

Encouraged by Ryeowook's attempt, more students try their hand at the problem.

"AC over AD equals BD over BC?" "Nope."

"AD over CD equals DB over CD!" "If you bothered to write that down, you'd immediately see why that cannot possibly be the correct answer."

The class lapses into silence, and Ms. Kang begins calling out desperately. "Anyone? Anyone else?" When it was apparent no one else knew the answer, she sighs. "Kyuhyun?"

"AD over AC is equal to CD over BC," she recites boredly, gaze still trained beyond the window. Forget being capable of immediately answering a direct question; if anyone had been observing her during this lesson, they would have thought she wasn't even paying attention at all.

"That is correct," the teacher admits begrudgingly. "Remember class, due to the AA Similarity Postulate…"

Kyuhyun lets the teacher's words drift in one ear and out the other, heeding no further sounds until the bell rings.

The end of the school day is finally upon them.

As much as she looks forward to this point every day, she sits in her chair and lets every other student file out first before packing her things. She's in no rush.

Kyuhyun drops her bookbag off at her locker and wanders the halls aimlessly instead, spending extra time in the art corridor to see the latest student works. The freshmen are working on watercolours, apparently.

After an unfortunate encounter in the bathroom, she beelines for the cafeteria, which happens to be in a completely other building, and runs into the second-to-last person she wants to see right now.

"What are you still doing here, Ms. Cho?" Mr. Park asks with suspicion.

"Just hanging out," she says with a shrug.

"I know you refuse to partake in any of our extracurriculars, but don't you have something better to do than loiter? I'm sure you have homework or some such."

"Maybe if this school started offering a curriculum that actually required me to reinforce what I learned at home, I would."

Mr. Park's eyes narrow in contempt. "Whatever delinquent nonsense you're up to, do it outside of my high school!" he bellows.

Kyuhyun's phone buzzes in her hand just then, and she uses the same hand to offer a sarcastic salute. "Your wish, Mr. Park," she offers in parting before rushing as fast as she can to her locker. She can't wait to get home.

~~~

When her home's doorbell rings its seasonal chime, Ryeowook is several pages deep into her biology packet. She begrudgingly sets down her work and gets up to look out the window.

Her view is exasperating.

"You weren't in homeroom this morning… again," she says in lieu of a greeting, walking back to where she was doing homework in the living room after letting in the guest.

"Babe, don't be like that," the guest whines while she takes off her shoes. "You know that homeroom is a gigantic waste of time. It's just Big Academia's way of—"

"—'Training students to get used to being herded like cattle,' yeah yeah. Tell it to someone who cares."

"Oh? This isn't a suggestion I should take to your precious student council?"

"I don't have time for you right now. I have a whole biology packet to complete before I can start baking," Ryeowook says as she waves said packet in the air for emphasis.

Kyuhyun pouts with her whole face. "Why bother letting me over if you're not even going to pay attention to me!"

Ryeowook sighs and repositions her laptop to rest on the arm of the couch, invitation unspoken. Kyuhyun drops her petulant act immediately and happily trods over to stretch out on the couch and rest her head on her girlfriend's lap. She wiggles in place to get comfortable and pulls out her phone. Ryeowook's typing provides a light, inconsistent soundtrack to her mindless scrolling; and it feels nice.

"How'd your presentation go?" she asks after a while.

"I almost accidentally commandeered the whole period because people were so excited about my topic." Ryeowook tried going for deadpan, but the pride in her voice was unmistakable.

"Well, duh. No one can listen to you talk about something you're interested in and stay indifferent."

"Yeah, it's cool how emotions are infectious," Ryeowook comments offhandedly.

"Sure, but I meant specifically you. You're, like, the most passionate person I know. I bet you had the best topic out of anyone there, anyway."

Ryeowook doesn't reply, but Kyuhyun cranes her neck just enough to watch a grateful and pleased smile cross the other's face.

Satisfied with how awesome of a girlfriend she is, she keeps going. "Did you like the wrap?"

Kyuhyun can somehow feel the change a split-second before she hears it. "It was delicious; thank you; and never do it again," Ryeowook responds with a clipped tone.

Kyuhyun rolls her eyes. "Stop sacrificing your lunch time for things that can be handled over email, and maybe I will."

"I meant skipping class; and don't even try to deny it!" Ryeowook adds as soon as she hears Kyuhyun's sharp intake of breath in preparation for a non-sequitur argument. "I know you. You thought to do it only because you passed by the deli on your way back from wherever truant kids spend their time."

"Napping with Nixies released a new album," Kyuhyun defends.

"And the store would have still had copies for you to buy during the weekend," Ryeowook retorts.

"First day sales are important, Ryeowook!"

"So is your education, Kyuhyun!" Ryeowook parrots back in the same whining tone.

"Spoken like a true cog in Big Academia's machine."

"This sentence probably won't make sense to a self-inflicted lone wolf, but collaboration happens best in person. And I prefer a small lunch anyway." Ryeowook tacks on that last bit like an afterthought. Kyuhyun might have believed her, except she's seen the way Ryeowook packs for picnic dates and knows that statement to be patently untrue.

"You could stand to be a bit more selfish with your time, you know."

"You could stand to be a bit more courteous in general, so I guess we both have things we need to work on," Ryeowook fires back easily.

Kyuhyun strikes the couch with her arms in offense. "I'm plenty courteous! I bought you lunch 'cause I knew you wouldn't have had a real meal otherwise!"

"I meant to people that aren't me!" Ryeowook clarifies exasperatedly.

"Hmph. People that aren't you don't deserve it. It's like Kanye-sunbaenim says: 'Asshole to the world but never to your girl.'"

"… I don't know what's worse: that I'm dating a girl that gets her love advice from Kanye West or the fact that I had to hear the phrase 'Kanye-sunbaenim' with my own two ears."

"Well, what if I told you I also get my life advice from Kimmy K-unnie? That way it counts as women empowerment. Don't you like that kind of stuff?"

Ryeowook finally tears her focus away from her work to eye Kyuhyun incredulously.

Kyuhyun innocently looks up through her eyelashes to meet the other's gaze. "Well if you're not into what I'm posting, don't look."

Mercilessly, Ryeowook shoves Kyuhyun off her lap. "Goodbye," she says as she places her laptop back on her folded legs.

Kyuhyun scrambles up from the floor and looks at the laptop with thinly veiled disdain and jealousy. "Let me back!"

"Not until you're nicer to people."

"I'm nice to people! Today, I heard Yom Syejin gossipping in the bathroom that the only way I could have avoided detention this year is by blowing Mr. Park, and I managed to walk away without dunking her head in the toilet. That seems plenty nice to me."

"Excuse me, Yom Syejin said what?!"

Ah shit, Kyuhyun knew she shouldn't have said anything. This is what she gets for thinking humourous delivery is enough to mask unfortunate content.

"Really, it's not a big deal. I handled it," Kyuhyun maintains.

"I'm sure you did, honey. Come on, help me bake some snickerdoodles," Ryeowook says as she immediately heads into the kitchen.

This would be an excellent idea, except that Kyuhyun can clearly see Ryeowook's biology packet is still unfinished and that Ryeowook's tone of voice sounded disingenuously peppy.

~~~

Ryeowook makes it into homeroom the next day with a minute to spare, sets her stuff at her desk, then places a tin of snickerdoodles on the teachers' desk for everyone's enjoyment.

The bell rings, and the wattage turns up on her smile. "Good morning!" she calls out, easily cutting through the chatter with her high and bright voice. "There are snickerdoodles at the front for everyone. Feel free to grab some while I take attendance. I didn't have time last night to make as many as I wanted to, so I evenly divided the batch into goodie bags for you all! I wrote your names on them too, so please only take one. I'll know if you don't," she faux-threatens with a cute wink.

The typical gratitudes spill out—"You're the best!" "Thanks, Ryeowook!" "Please marry me?"—and she preens at the praise as she goes down the list in her hand.

It isn't until she notices one person in particular eagerly grabbing her designated bag that Ryeowook lets a private smile cross her face.

~~~

from: Kyuhyun-ssi (Geometry) oh my god yom skank-jin just bolted out of my english class like the new galaxy was on sale tf?

from: wookie💜 Maybe if you bothered attending homeroom this morning, you'd have an answer to your crudely-phrased question.

from: Kyuhyun-ssi (Geometry) oh my god what did you do

from: wookie💜 Did you know Syejinnie's favourite cookies are snickerdoodles?

from: Kyuhyun-ssi (Geometry) OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU DO

from: wookie💜 Bathrooms are for shitting, not shit-talking.

from: Kyuhyun-ssi (Geometry) i am madly in love with you

from: wookie💜 Stop texting me and pay attention in class!

from: wookie💜 And I love you too 💛

~~~

A/N (8.27.2021): Thanks for reading! To prove my thanks, here is fanart that almost made it into the cover photo.

[justtextmeoppa]

Drabble Bakery: Kyuhyun 2 & 91

For anon

Genre: Fluff

Words: 523

-kyu

‘Cho Kyuhyun!’ You shouted through the apartment, ‘KYUHYUN!’

‘Yah yah! Stop shouting will ya?’ A sleepy Kyu emerged from the room, rubbing the back of his neck and yawning.

‘I asked you to clean this mess up last night!’ You pointed at the variety of clothing that now littered the floor.

‘Give me a break, woman! I am leave from the MILITARY!’ He snapped back.

You rolled your eyes, ‘And that’s another thing, YOU HAVE YOUR OWN APARTMENT! Go make a mess there!’

Kyuhyun swiftly walked through the lounge and grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into his arms, placing a swift kiss on your soft lips. Oh how you missed those plump lips against yours. Yes it was hard having him in the military but it was worth it to have him all to yourself when he was discharged. Melting into his kiss, you suddenly pushed him away with open eyes.

‘BRUSH YOUR TEETH!’ You screeched.

‘You make being romantic so damn clinical.’ The male pouted, crashing on the couch, ‘OUCH!’ He shoved his hand under his butt to pull out a game controller as you chuckled, ‘Not funny.’

‘Not my fault your shit is littered around my house.’ You shrugged your shoulders as the sudden memories of your younger days pop into your head, ‘Do you remember how we met?’

‘Yeah at the gaming cafe,’ He threw the controller onto another couch, ‘You were playing LOL.’

‘Ahhh my champion days.’ You reminisced.

‘You still suck now jagi.’ He snickered, ‘OUCH!’

‘Next time I hit you harder.’ You poked his head again.

The day you met Kyuhyun, you were 19 years old and a new student . You frequented a gaming cafe that the, then trainee, used to sneak out to and play his games. He and Heechul would both walk through the building as if they owned it. You were two years younger then Kyuhyun, so you just assumed they pulled rank but that wasn’t the case. He was loud and irritating but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was his signature smirk.

‘Damn…a girl.’ Kyuhyun stifled his walk.

‘No shit hey sherlock.’ You rolled your eyes, not even looking at the person.

‘Cheeky, cute.’ He pulled a chair and watched you play.

‘Ew cheesy,’ You snorted, ‘Are you always so lame around girls?’

‘Only the cute ones.’ He ginned.

And that was the day your budding relationship began. It had been a few years before you started dating the idol, but that story was even more cheesier then his original pick up line. Kyuhyun still sat on the couch, playing with his phone as you admired him. He always did look good with black hair, but you did miss the auburn colour. Smiling to yourself, your boyfriend looked over his shoulder.

‘Stop, you look like a psychopath.’

‘The pot tells the kettle.’

You crashed next to him on the couch, ‘Do you remember what you said when you asked me to be your girlfriend?’

‘You have two options: become mine or I become yours.’ Kyuhyun said with a sly smile, ‘My cheesiest line yet.’

‘And still the winner in winning my heart…’

[taeminuet]

Heartbeat (10/?)

Title: Heartbeat Fandom: SHINee Pairings: (eventual) Jongtae; Minkey; OnKai Chapter Wordcount: ~3.5k Overall Rating: R (Some chapters will be NC-17; these will be marked.) Chapter Warnings: discussion of mental illness, Summary: In which not every problem needs to be fixed and not every person needs to be saved; sometimes you just need support.

–

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 7.5 , 8 , 9

-

Chapter 10: Minho

Minho hates this. He feels lost and tired and afraid. He's in a place he doesn't know, a place he doesn't recognize, with people who he doesn't remember meeting but who apparently expect him to know their names.

He feels guilty for it, somehow. He feels responsible for hurting their feelings, even if it's not his fault, even if he can't be blamed for this. He shouldn't feel guilty, but it doesn't stop him from feeling it when the boy –  Taemin – jerks away from him like struck, when the wheelchair-bound man – Key – snaps.

It doesn't stop him from cringing when the doctor calls him out, asks him to talk about something he doesn't understand, barely has context for.

Minho had woken up with a headache and no idea where he was. It wouldn't have been the first time he had woken up in a bed not his own, but usually he at least recognized the place – Kyuhyun's room or Lu Han's sofa, something. But he had woken up and been in a bed he didn't know, in a room he didn't remember, and had had no idea where he was.

But there were pieces of his life filling the room, filled with relics that Minho both recognized and didn't – old soccer trophies tucked in one corner of the desk, a blanket he didn't recognize piled in a chair, a handful of books that he had never gotten around to starting but looked far more worn than he had seen them last.

And the notebook. It was a plain spiral journal, the cover a dull, matte red with words scribbled on it in his own handwriting – READ ME.

Minho had, and the day had just been downhill from there. He had wondered, at first, if his drunken mind had developed an elaborate prank to fuck with himself once sober, but the words were too steady, too neat to have been written by a drunk person. And there were pictures, pictures he couldn't possibly have gotten.

And a drawing. He had frozen over it, his fingers tracing just outside the soft black lines in wonder. It was stunning. Minho wasn't a big art person, but for some reason the picture made his chest clench.

The notebook itself had been maybe maybe a 5-10 minute read, but Minho took an hour, pausing frequently over words, his heart racing as he tried to tell himself it was all real. It didn't feel like it. It felt like an elaborate dream, but no amount of pinching or falling or other triggers woke him.

His stomach churned messily. This wasn't right. He hated this. His head hurt and he wanted to go back to sleep, but the first words in the entire book were bolded and underlined, written in red and traced over again until they had bled through onto the page behind, 'IF YOU SLEEP, YOU WILL FORGET' stained red on top of diagnosis and information on the specific affliction apparently now ailing him.

He had sat in silence for a long time, trying to reconcile everything. Last night, he had been in a car accident, and now today, it was three years later and he was barely him anymore. Minho didn't know what to do, so he had done the only thing that had come to him. He had cried.

He had cried until the headache was worse, pounding at his skull, making his face feel hot and making him feel miserable and stuffy. But eventually, he didn't have any more tears to shed, and the notebook was still there, still giving him instructions: It hurts. Get up. Go on with your life. You aren't dead. Get up and keep living.

So he had followed directions: gotten up, washed his face, brushed his hair and his teeth, put clothes on. He had all but memorized the notebook, trying to cram facts and details and faces into his mind.

For safe measure, he had taken it with him, a reference guide in case he forgot. And then he had left the unfamiliar room in favor of a larger and even less familiar space, for unfamiliar people, for a day where he doesn't know what to say or do because he doesn't know any of these people. Minho is a stranger in a place full of strangers, and he doesn't want to be here.

Worse, he doesn't want to talk about about all of that, but he doesn't know what else to do. So he tells all of it in detail.

Jonghyun clearly couldn't be paying less attention – Minho seems to remember something about that being normal, but after his outburst, Minho isn't sure what to think. He has so little to go on. So little to make sense of the way Onew smiles sheepishly at him but won't meet his eye as he talks, the way Taemin cringes away from him more as he explains, the way Key's head snaps up in the middle of Minho's story and he stares at him.

The doctor waits patiently until he's done, waits until he's told everything, and them hums. “Well, I think that's a good start,” he says, and Minho wants to argue with him. It doesn't feel good at all. But the doctor just smiles and checks his watch. “Well, we only have a few minutes left. Would anyone else like to share? Onew? Kibum?”

The room is silent. It stretches out so uncomfortably long that Onew makes a small noise, but it's not one of acquiescence, and he tucks into himself a little with embarrassment afterwards.

Finally, the doctor clears his throat. “Well then, if we've addressed most things, I think it's okay to let go a moment early. Minho, Dr. Park will want to speak with you in  a bit. Onew, you'll have an appointment with her later this afternoon as well. Taemin, we'll try to get up your individual therapy started soon. And Key and Jonghyun--”

“Yeah, we know our schedule, doc,” Jonghyun says, voice tight as he climbs to his feet and makes his way towards the door. “Can we get the hell out of here now?”

“Finally,” Taemin says, jumping up as well and looking the doctor over, voice sickly sweet as he says, “No offense and all.”

He all but bolts after Jonghyun, and his voice is just loud enough to be heard as he catches Jonghyun's arm, hissing, “Come with me. I need to talk to you.”

The two of them leave together, and Minho hesitates, pretty sure he's not intended to follow them. Instead he fumbles for a moment, trying to decide who would be best to ask. But Onew looks like he might bolt if even mildly startled right now, so Minho turns to Key. “Who's Dr. Park?” he asks quietly. “Should I be worried?”

Almost at once Key rolls his eyes, just a subtle little motion. Minho bites his lips together hard. He hadn't meant to irritate him. He just – Minho's notebook said Key was sensitive, flip-flopped emotions easily on a hairpin trigger, and Minho clearly didn't have the capacity to remember all of those triggers. He had a small list, but he didn't know –

“Don't worry, Minho,” Key said, and his voice was far less annoyed than Minho expected it to be. “It's your therapist. She'll want to talk about if there was anything different about you waking up today.”

Minho frowns. “How am I supposed to know--?”

“She'll ask specific questions, I guess? Maybe have you talk about it again,” Key says, shrugging, and starts wheeling slowly towards the door, but he's still speaking to Minho, so Minho follows dutifully. “I don't think there's usually anything new to tell. Not from-- well.”

His eyes glance over Minho with such scrutiny that Minho swallows tightly. “I wouldn't know.”

“No, I know,” Key says, and Minho gets another eye-roll, but this one doesn't feel quite as annoyed. More teasing maybe? Minho doesn't know how he'd know for sure, but Key doesn't seen irritated. “That's kind of the point. You don't, but it's routine, I guess.”

“Oh,” Minho says quietly. It feels strange to be talking about his own life this way, to have to trust someone else to fill in a gaping blank because Minho can't remember for himself and doesn't know if it was included on his written schedule. It makes him feel helpless and incapable, and he doesn't like this, but what choice does he really have? “What...” he mumbles, voice almost too low to be heard, and then clears his throat uncomfortably, “What else do I normally do?”

“I'm not some calendar with reminders on it, you know,” Key says, and Minho flinches back in shock fast enough that something in Key's expression melts.

Minho doesn't think he'd recognize it if not for the fact that he's been feeling it all morning; Key feels guilty. Whether for snapping or something else that Minho doesn't remember, Minho has no idea.

But he does remember his notebook, some of the last words on Key's page: he doesn't need to apologize for anything. Minho doesn't know what it means, but it keeps him grounded when Key only exhales slowly and tries to make it up to him by answering.

“It's... you like to read a lot; you have a bunch of books that you just read through whenever. I'm sure you saw them. And you like to watch sports if they're on. If it's sunny you'll go out and run or play soccer.”

That sounds like him, Minho thinks. He has no idea why he thought it wouldn't.

“Sometimes,” Key adds, and his voice is a little strange now, though Minho doesn't know why. “Sometimes, you'll sit with me while I draw.”

Something clicks in Minho head. Not a memory, just a thought, and and perks up. “Oh!” he says. “You drew the picture I have?”

He scrambles for his notebook, still with him, and rushes to flip through it to Taemin's pages, where the charcoal sketch sits. Something slips from between the pages, and Minho scrambles to catch it, fumbling a little and ending up with it crumpled in his grasp. When he opens it though, it's just a paper napkin, and he frowns at it, not understanding.

“I... don't...” he starts, looking at Key, and then shifts uncomfortably.

Key is staring at his hand. Minho doesn't know why. He doesn't really know how to ask either. What kind of significance could a napkin hold? He doesn't know, but he doesn't want to throw it away either.

He smooths it back out, tucks it back between the pages. “Sorry,” he says. “I just meant...”

“It's fine,” Key says, his voice slightly off, and Minho pauses for a moment before finally flipping to the drawing. Key glances at it, just for a moment, and then nods. “Yeah. I did that.”

“You drew this?” Minho repeats, a little awed. “Key this is... it's beautiful. Thank you.”

Now Key pauses a little, hesitating, and then says, voice almost defensive, “That's what you said when I gave it to you. It's not a big deal. It was...” He shrugs a little, averting his eyes, and then looks back, making almost too much eye contact, like a defense mechanism. “You and Taemin stay up at night together, but he doesn't like cameras. You wanted a picture to remember him with.”

“I know,” Minho says, almost immediately, proud of himself, and then flushes when he realizes how that sounded. “I mean, I know that he doesn't sleep. And he hates cameras. It's in there. There's... there's a lot of things in here.”

“Can I see?”

“See?” Minho asks, bewildered, and then realizes. Key is looking at his notebook. “I'm... I don't...”

It isn't a no, but even as he says it, Minho feels the tension rising in him. There's a lot of stuff in there, like he said. This notebook is three years of his life written into awkward half-phrases and sentence fragments that will likely mean more to Key than they ever will to him.

Showing Key a picture (one that Key himself drew) is one thing. Hell, even finding the more innocuous pages and being able to point out things wouldn't be too bad. But to just hand over his notebook like that, hand over three years' worth of everything he knows, or doesn't know...

It feels a lot like letting someone just sift through his brain.

But if he's being honest with himself, that's probably something that would actually help him more than anything. If Key can make some sense of the massacre of words he had scripted, wouldn't it be better? It might weird to have to have someone help him make sense of his own life, but this entire day has been weird, and he doesn't think that's going to get better any time soon. If ever.

“You don't have to show me if you don't want to,” Key says, but Minho has already made his decision.

“It's fine.” He has to clear his throat to stop his voice from cracking as he holds the book out, torn between wanting to snatch it back and for Key to take it already so he can wring his hands and get out the nervous energy. “If you want to?”

Key takes it with something like reverence, flipping through the pages as if they were made of the finest glass. Minho lets out a shaking breath, tempted to turn away, but a part of him makes him keep watching, whether it's curiosity or protective instinct or something else entirely.

But Key is gentle, flipping through pages with care. Occasionally he pauses to read, but it's always something on Jonghyun's page or Onew's. Never Minho's personal things. And then he gets to his pages, and Key stops, his eyes flickering over the pages.

There's over two of them by now, front and back, packed full of notes. Near the bottom of the last, Minho has scratched out something violently – he's not sure what, but other than that, the pages are crammed full of little facts and information. Minho's eyes go wide as Key scans them all, his fingers gentle against the pen marks.

When he looks up, his eyes are wet and Minho is petrified. “Please, don't--” he starts, hand lifting instinctively to wipe the wetness away, and then hesitates. It isn't his place. He barely knows Key. His notes are there, implying a level of familiarity, but closeness? He doesn't know that, can't tell. He retracts his hand quickly. "Sorry. I didn't mean... I just... Don't cry. Please."

But Key only shakes his head and lets out a slightly watery laugh. “I thought I told you to replace that picture,” he says, fingers grazing over the picture Minho has of him in the notebook. “I look really gross.”

Minho's eyebrows furrow. That's not true. It's a good picture. Key looks slightly sad, but mostly he just looks... Minho doesn't know. Pretty isn't the right word, but it's close.

“I don't have another picture though,” he says finally. “I don't know how I even got that one.”

“The nurses, maybe? You probably charmed them,” Key says, shrugging.

Minho pauses. He feels a little childish asking, but... “If I can find one, can we take one together?”

Key stares at him for a long moment and then exhales. “I... sure, if you want?” he says, and it sounds more like he honestly doesn't know why Minho wants that. Like he can't understand why Minho would want some record of him with Key, some visual representation of some sort of relationship past just words on a page.

“I do want to,” Minho says.

“We can go take it now if you want to.” He sounds almost nonchalant, but he fixes his hair almost nervously. “I'm sure one of the receptionists has one.”

They do, after Key and Minho make their way up to the desk and bother them. It's technically lunch time, so she's not busy, and she loans them the camera happily so long as they stay up at the front and offers to print out the picture for them after Minho explains what it's for.

“Do you, uh... care if I get a copy?” Key asks, probably trying to look nonchalant like he's not nervously fixing his hair. “You know, if I don't come out looking like total shit?”

“I don't think it's possible for you to look bad," Minho says.

Key looks up at him, clearly startled, and then does his pattern: look away, realize, stare intensely, change the subject. “God,” he says, “did you forget to brush your hair this morning?”

Minho expects to flinch at the word forget, but it's so casual, such a simple thing that anyone would forget that it almost actually makes him feel better. “I... guess? Yeah.”

“Come here,” Key says. “I won't have anyone ruining a picture with messy hair. Just because we're in here doesn't mean you need to let your good looks go to waste.”

He beckons Minho closer, making Minho crouch in front of him so that Key can reach his hair, running his fingers through it. It's soothing in a way, and Minho would calm under the touch if he wasn't suddenly vividly aware of how close Key is.

Would it have been easier to wake up if he had had this soothing feeling then, he wonders. Or would he have panicked, freaking out at the touch of an unknown person?

It's a terrible thought, one that nearly makes him yank away.

Is there any point to this? To spending time with Key? He'll just forget it. He'll forget this feeling, forget the feeling of Key straightening his hair, forget the nerves as Key had perused years of his life that Minho has no recollection of, possibly placing memories of his own to notes that have no context for Minho.

He only even has a vague idea of how long he can stay awake. A few days, at most, and then the memory of Key's lingering touch will go eventually, leaving him with another blank stretch in years and years of them, all strung together.

Minho pulls away, looking at the camera in his hands

“You look great,” Key says, voice a little wavering again. “Go on. Just take the picture.”

Minho does, positioning himself next to Key to get them both in frame and snapping the shot, turning the camera to see. He freezes.

He looks maybe a bit older than he was thinking of himself, but otherwise the same as always. Attractive enough, but with too-big eyes and ruffled hair, structured chaos after Key's fixing rather than a complete disaster. He's never felt like he was anything special, really. Key, though...

Minho closes his eyes again, hands shaking so hard that the entire camera trembles. He doesn't want to forget Key, wants to have this picture for the rest of eternity because it can't be possible to look at it and not remember, not have some recollection of Key when he's so...

"God," he breathes, hardly a whisper, "you're beautiful."

“I...” Key is staring at him, eyes wide with something near panic. His eyes are watery and his hands are shaking, and he's really looking away from Minho this time, not looking back.

“Key,” Minho says, tentative, reaching out for Key.

Key shoves his hand away and wheels himself backwards as fast as he can. “I have to go,” he says, voice shaking. “You can get it printed at the desk. I have to go.”

“Key, wait,” Minho says, but Key ignores him, wheels away fast enough that Minho is left standing there, camera in his hands.

--

Next Chapter

[juneazure]

Was it a Dream?

An Old SuJu Fanfic I wrote way back in 2013 (so excuse the horrible grammatical errors)

OneShot Group: Super Junior Pairings: HanChul/YeWook (implied only) Summary: After Hangeng left in December 2009, Heechul struggles to accept that his best friend is no longer with him

He didn’t wake me up again… Heechul got out of bed and sighed. He hadn’t seen Hangeng in days and thanks to his schedule, he only realised he was gone last night when he got home early from his radio recording.

He left the room with nothing but his towel on his lower half and started to walk around the large empty dorm, staring aimlessly at everything. “Ah, hyung,” Heechul peeked into the kitchen and saw Ryeowook cooking and Sungmin next to him chopping some scallions. Ryeowook was smiling at him but he knew something was off. His eyes didn’t look like it matched the expression on his face and Heechul would rather not know why at this point.

“Where are the others?” Heechul asked as he made his way into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Sungmin was about to answer and turned his head to look at Heechul only to find his hyung standing half naked before him. “Y-yah WHAT?!” Sungmin reverted his eyes back to the scallions and his face heated up. “Did you just ‘yah’ me!?” Heechul raised his tone, seemingly surprised at the word Sungmin used. “H-Hyung, why don’t you have clothes on?!” Sungmin asked, finally covering his eyes from Heechul’s bare back as the older man poured some water into his mug. “I’m going to shower, obviously.” Heechul chuckled, amused at Sungmin’s reaction. “Would you like your eggs scrambled or sunny side up?” Ryeowook tilted his head to look at Heechul as he cracked an egg into a bowl. Heechul walked up to Ryeowook and hugged him from the back. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t mind me walking around naked.” Heechul snickered. Ryeowook merely chuckled and turned his head back to the skillet. “That’s only because I’ve seen you like that so many times for the past five years we’ve been living together,” Ryeowook said and flipped the pancakes from the pan onto a plate. “And I’m sure you like what you see,” Heechul was purring like a cat saying those words right next to Ryeowook’s ears. “Mine,” Yesung suddenly appeared and snatched the plate of pancakes from Ryeowook’s hand and surprised Heechul who was standing there. He knew Yesung had another meaning to those words and he lets go of his hold on Ryeowook and turned around. “Scrambled, Wookie,” Heechul said and left the kitchen to shower in the bathroom. As much as he loved teasing Ryeowook, he noticed Yesung had been a little bit too protective over the young boy. He decided to leave them alone, they probably have some things going on that they don’t want to bother the rest of the members with. The water felt so refreshing as it touched his skin. Heechul ran a hand through his hair and stared at himself in the mirror he put in the shower. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face continuously and slammed his fist on the wall with a sudden growl. He sighed and stared at his hands for a moment and looked at the ceiling. “I must’ve gone crazy.” He said and got out of the showers. He brushed his teeth and washed his face with the cleansing gel Hangeng bought during Super Junior M’s trip to Bangkok. Everything suddenly reminds me of him. Why? He wiped his face and got out of the bathroom with the towel around his waist again. Heechul walked past the kitchen and straight to his room. The bed next to his was empty and he dropped his body on the perfectly made bed. He started to grab the pillows and hug them, slowly remembering the nights he would just snuggle onto this side of the bed with a noisy Chinese man constantly trying to kick him off. He remembered the warmth, the scent and the words they would always exchange during those nights. “Aren’t you tired?” Hangeng asked. “Yeah,” Heechul answered and moves closer to Hangeng causing him to laugh. “Go back to your bed!” The Chinese man scowled. “But I’ll feel alone,” Heechul would sit up and try to find Hangeng’s eyes in the darkness. They would usually stay silent for the next few minutes until Hangeng sighs and pulls on Heechul’s hand. “Here.” Hangeng would pull Heechul over his body and he would move towards the edge of his bed, making more space for Heechul to get under the comforter. “Now just stay there quietly, go sleep.” Hangeng would say and turn his head away from Heechul as he attempts to sleep. Heechul was between the wall and Hangeng, he has never felt safer when Hangeng allows him to sleep next to him. “What did you do today?” Heechul asked only to get Hangeng’s attention and make him turn his head and face him. Hangeng would then turn his whole body and put his hand on Heechul’s forehead. “You’re not sick. We’ll talk in the morning.” “What if you have to leave before I wake up?” Heechul asked. “I’ll wake you before I leave then,” Hangeng said with his eyes close. “What if I have to leave first?” Heechul asked. “Then I’ll see you again at night and talk to you like this, but when I don’t feel so sleepy.” Hangeng continued. “So I get to sleep in your bed tomorrow again?” Heechul smiled cheekily. “Sure,” Hangeng answered and Heechul smiled. “For as long as you need me to keep you company. Just as long as you don’t feel lonely, I’ll be here.” … “I feel lonely now, you idiot!” Heechul cursed and gritted his teeth. A knock on the door startled Heechul and he started to dress up after Ryeowook mentioned his food is getting cold. He wore regular black jeans and a plain orange tee. Leaving his wet hair alone, he put on some moisturiser on his face before heading out of his room. It was a relaxing Sunday afternoon, the dorm would usually be so noisy with the 11th and 12th floors combining into one unit watching a movie or playing games. It was surprisingly quiet to Heechul. Sure, Leeteuk, Eunhyuk and Shindong were playing a game of Risk on the coffee table next to the large sofa. Kyuhyun, Donghae and Yesung were watching an English movie as Siwon appeared with some light dumbbells in hand. Ryeowook poked Heechul’s arm and ushered him to the dining table. “It got cold!” He cried and poked the eggs and pancakes. “I’ll put it in the microwave for you, hyung.” “It’s fine,” Heechul said and stopped Ryeowook. “Ryeowook’s only doing this for your own good,” Sungmin mentioned and Heechul glanced at him. Heechul looked at Ryeowook and definitely noticed his eyes lost that certain sparkle he usually has when he serves people his food. “What’s up?” Heechul asked. “Why is everyone so quiet?” “Hasn’t he noticed?” Yesung asked and Donghae shushed him. “Notice what?” Heechul asked again, looking around the room with his members staring at him. “Hankyung hyung left,” Sungmin said solemnly. Those words were like daggers stabbing his insides over and over. “No, he had something today again. So he forgot to wake me up because he was busy.” “Was that what he’s been telling himself?” Shindong muttered and Leeteuk nudged his arms, eyeing him to not say anything that would make things bad. “Don’t. Treat. Me. Like. A. Child!” Heechul’s words emphasized his anger and frustration. “Hyung, it’s okay. I’ll just heat this up-,” Heechul’s hand swiped across Ryeowook and caused the breakfast Ryeowook prepared to fall and shatter on the floor. Sungmin’s mouth fell open and Ryeowook looked startled. Heechul was surprised at what he just did and looked back at Ryeowook and found tears welling up on the corners of his eyes. “Ryeowook-ah, I’m sor-.” “Forget it,” Yesung said and pulled Ryeowook away from the table. “He’s been trying to tell you nicely for the past few days. You kept on avoiding the topic. You knew he left, only an idiot wouldn’t realise his roommate has left.” It only struck Heechul now that this has happened for quite some time. He came back to the dorm to have lunch and hoping to bump into Hangeng. Every time he did, Hangeng was no where to be found and yet there would always be his special fried rice prepared in a microwaveable container. “This idiot would keep on coming back from our KRY recording just to make lunch for you! Hangeng always prepares this for you during your Thursday and Friday lunch hours. He told Ryeowook to do this after he leaves,” Yesung added. “No…that’s because…” “Heechul hyung! Come back to your senses! Hangeng doesn’t have any activities right now! There’s nothing to promote and he doesn’t do shows like we do! He hasn’t been busy for five months!” Yesung was irritated. “I’m tired of seeing Ryeowook constantly making up Hangeng’s bed every morning after you mess it up by sitting on it at night just to make you think he’s still around!” “And you!” Yesung turned his anger towards Ryeowook and gripped his arm. “Stop doing this! It isn’t getting any better! There’s no better way to tell him that Hangeng left! Stop trying to make things ‘easier’ when it gets so much harder on you!” Heechul was quiet and his hands folded into tight fists. So that’s it… He thought and smiled sadly. “When was it…” “What?” Ryeowook asked and Heechul’s head lifted and he stared at Ryeowook. “When did he tell you that? When was it that he left?” Heechul asked, he was angry, there was no way no one could deny that. “L-Last Tuesday…remember?” Ryeowook stuttered. “He told you, he told all of us…y-you..” “You didn’t want to accept it so you locked yourself in your room,” Yesung finished Ryeowook’s sentence. “We all left to the airport to send him off, you were the only one that stayed back.” “He should’ve told me!” Heechul shouted. “He did!” Yesung shouted back out of frustration and he was surprised that Heechul suddenly stepped forward and clutched his collar and glared at him. “He should’ve told me! He should’ve told EVERYTHING!” Heechul shouted again and through this, everyone knew what he meant. “WHY DID HE SUFFER ALONE?! WHY DIDN’T HE TELL ANYONE?! WHY NOT ME?! WHY WAS I KEPT IN THE DARK AFTER ALL THE SHIT HE’S BEEN THROUGH!” Everyone fell silent. They merely saw Heechul’s nose turning red and his eyes slowly tearing. “HE SHOULD’VE AT LEAST TOLD ME! I TOLD HIM EVERYTHING….everything… I kept no secrets from him… I shared everything…” “Hyung,” Ryeowook immediately hugged Heechul as he started to cry. Yesung brushed off the hands that still held onto his collar and looked quietly at Heechul. “He really felt terrible…after you locked yourself away. He really wanted you to be there when he left,” Ryeowook whispered and tears fell uncontrollably. For as long as you need me to keep you company. Just as long as you don’t feel lonely, I’ll be here… “He was always there for me,” Heechul said between sobs. “I wasn’t. I was never there when he needed me…and now he’s gone.” Ryeowook glanced around the room and he saw Leeteuk and Sungmin also tearing up. No one felt good about this and he knew something should’ve been done. “I’ll take you to your room, okay hyung?” He said and led Heechul back to his room and made him sit on the bed. “I’ll make something for you to eat. Just…calm down. We’ll see him again…one day.” Heechul stared at the empty bed next to him quietly. He knew that Hangeng left… he knew he didn’t do anything to stop him. Hangeng would never put a burden on anyone, he’d avoid doing so. He learnt proper Korean to avoid having the other members translate things for him. He would always go grocery shopping for the members because he knows they don’t have the time and he was almost always free. “You really….really should have told me…you idiot,” Heechul muttered and laid his head on his pillow, still staring at the bed across him. He started to recall every memory he had with Hangeng. From the moment he came to SME, to all the stupid shows they recorded together, to the tours they performed together, every detail was crystal clear in his memory. “I miss you,” Heechul finally whispered before his eyes failed and his conscious drifted away. “Wake up, idiot!” Heechul’s pillow was kicked and he jolted up from bed, feeling extremely cranky. “YAH!” He shouted and rubbed his eyes. “WHAT DID YOU DO…” His eyesight cleared and he saw Hangeng standing before him. “It’s morning and you have a recording, what are you doing still sleeping?” He laughed and pinched Heechul’s cheek causing Heechul’s hand to fly up and swat the hand away. “Yah!” Hangeng cried aloud and stared at Heechul. He saw Heechul’s face completely bewildered and blank. “What’s wrong? Bad dream?” Heechul opened his mouth but nothing could come out. He stared at his hands and clapped, he heard a noise and look back at Hangeng. “Y-Yeah.” Heechul said. “Why? Was I not in it?” Hangeng joked. “You weren’t…” Heechul admitted and blinked a few more times and stared at Hangeng. “Then you must’ve had one hell of a time playing around,” Hangeng said and stretched his body. He turned to see Heechul’s expression still blank. “Come on, let’s get out and find some good ramen shops. Seriously, even when I have something to do, I still have to think and care for you!” “Thank you,” Heechul said quietly, almost to a whisper. Hangeng bent forward and smiled. “I’d do anything for you.” He said and Heechul’s smile finally appeared. “Now let’s go get some ramen!” Heechul saw Hangeng left the room and he finally stood up. He glanced at the clean and neatly made up bed next to his and sighed. He stared back at the door and patted his face to freshen up. After a few moments, he realised… he didn’t feel any pain or anything when Hangeng pinched him.