Work Text:
The problem with Jaemin and Donghyuck was this: they’re two halves of the same rotten whole.
They were people who became too aware of the lives they led. The star clouded eyes that surrounded being an idol had disappeared for the both of them. They knew to keep their walls thick and their smiles broad in order to survive.
They were similar, both used to manipulating others to get their own ways. Both accustomed to the secrets that hang like knives against their throats.
The one fundamental difference that set them apart, was that Donghyuck— Haechan still enjoyed being an idol. He was all too familiar with the pain that would thump along with his heart that came with endless hours of dance practice, or the cameras that would flash at them no matter where they went. He knew of the lethargy that came with flying to different countries, knew of hiding behind the delicately placed makeup on his face, being left to wonder what was real and what was fake.
He knew it all, and yet he still loved it. Haechan loved being on stage, he practically glowed, as cheesy as it sounded. He loved the attention, the companionship. He loved it enough to ignore the faults.
For Jaemin, the faults were all he saw. Donghyuck hasn’t seemed to realize that yet.
“What was that out there?”
Jaemin smiled despite himself. Donghyuck looked so funny while he fumed. He looked thirteen all over again, young and brass.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Haechan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Get out of your fucking head, Jaem. The fans are going to start noticing.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, it’s not my fault I’m not the same as I was at sixteen.” Jaemin knew what to say to rile him up to a point that no one else could. Being so similar meant baring your chest open, even if it’s behind locked doors.
“Stop playing dumb, I want to have an actual conversation with you.”
Jaemin’s smile turned mocking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Donghyuck grinded against his teeth, a bad habit. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”
“So don’t do it. We’re both tired, go play some games or something.”
The older boy raised his eyebrows, just slightly enough that he noticed it. “Is that what this is about? Jeno?”
The smile fell off of Jaemin’s face before he could catch it. “This doesn’t have anything to do with him.”
“So you admit it then. Something is wrong.”
Jaemin held back a sigh, staring at Haechan’s triumphant smile. Both their hearts were bare, sometimes he forgot Haechan knew how to play this game just as well.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
Now his words are more carefully picked, Jaemin could win against anyone except Haechan.
“Do I though? I think I’m pretty good at hearing the actual meaning behind your words.”
“You don’t know shit.”
Haechan smirked. He’s never been one to back down from a challenge.
“So tell me then, Na Jaemin.” Haechan paused, his smirk widening further. “Or should I tell Mr. Muscle Man about this? That his princess is in distress?”
He couldn’t help himself, Jaemin scowled. The sides have flipped, Haechan has the upper hand now. “Holding Jeno over me doesn’t change the fact that nothing’s wrong.”
Haechan nodded, feigning agreement. “Right, nothing’s wrong. That’s why you were pretty much silent throughout that entire shooting?”
“I’m silent in basically every shooting.”
“You didn’t used to be.”
“Again, I’m not sixteen anymore.”
Haechan shook his head, his voice rising. “Oh don’t give me that again. I don’t care if you’re sixteen or not, but you played the part then. Why aren’t you playing it now?”
Jaemin doesn’t answer at first, fixing Haechan with a hard stare.
Haechan stares back, a smirk dancing on his lip. He thinks he’s winning, and yeah, maybe he is. Or, maybe he would be, if he was fighting with anyone else.
“I’ve just been tired, Haechan-ah. My back’s been aching more than usual.” He says, defeat leaking into his voice. An admittal at first glance, he hopes Haechan doesn’t dig any deeper. Lying, manipulating, and hiding the truth, what was the difference between the three? Did it matter, in the end?
The boy eyes him, so Jaemin keeps up the act. He glances away in supposed embarrassment, biting his lip.
Haechan scoffs. “Stop it, you asshole. Is it that hard to give me a real answer?”
He sighed. It was worth a try. “That was my real answer,” Jaemin muttered half heartedly.
The room is doused in silence, though it’s not uncomfortable. It’s a quiet understanding of sorts, but Jaemin knows Haechan was too stubborn to leave it alone.
He sighed, eventually. “You’re such a dick you know, you’re pissing me off. I’ll get the answer out of you later.”
Jaemin smiled. “I’m sure you will.”
He walked away, leaving the door wide open like the petty asshole he was.
Jaemin almost wished he would walk back in. Bickering (arguing, what’s the difference?) with Haechan was fun in its own way. That’s all they seem to be able to do, butt heads constantly. It’s a welcome distraction, he knows, for the both of them.
It’s a welcome distraction from the pain bursting in his body like harsh waves, the tiredness that seeps into his bones. Jaemin is tired, in every sense of the word.
He’s so fucking tired.
How does he tell that to the others? Should he? Should he ignore it? Drown it out?
What did it mean, to be trapped in your own skin? Jaemin had a choice, he knew he did. He was just scared. Like a little kid, he cowers behind his stretched out arms, hoping the future would never come. Hoping he would stop caring so much, to make this all easier.
What did it mean, to be afraid? What did it mean, to not know who you were anymore?
—
The cameras are rolling. Smile, laugh, and hide, Jaemin felt like a fraud. None of them had to do the same, not really. None of them had to put up walls so thick so that the blackened heart laying on the inside would never be visible.
Lying, manipulating, withholding the truth.
(Did the difference between the three matter?)
“Jaemin-ssi seems like an interesting fellow!” The host exclaimed, bringing Jaemin back to the present.
“Ah yes, he’s a very interesting friend,” Donghyuck replied for him.
Smile. Laugh. It’s easy.
Fake, everything was so fake, Jaemin was drowning in plastic.
The shoot is over before he could process it, the bright lights leaving him winded.
He acted the part, at least, he thought he did. If Donghyuck wasn’t satisfied with this, then he was asking for more than what Jaemin could give.
They all collapse in the car, a long day of different schedules finally past them.
Jaemin could feel stares on him; he doesn’t bother to humour them. They would have to talk first if they wanted to start a conversation.
“Jaemin.” He hears right before he closes his door.
Jeno stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked— bothered. His eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, his lips drawn in an unconscious pout.
“What’s wrong?” He muses. Jeno just stares, carefully yet without patience.
He spoke only when Jaemin was sure they would stand there for the entire night. “Is anything wrong?” He asked tentatively.
Jaemin’s first instinct is to get defensive; he knew it wouldn’t be any help. “Honestly, my back has been acting up.”
Jeno was so easy, so much easier than Donghyuck. His eyebrows immediately furrowed in concern, approaching Jaemin with an air of worry. “How bad is it? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jaemin couldn’t feel bad, not when it was a half truth. “It always hurts to some degree, I just didn’t want to believe it was getting worse I guess.”
“We should tell our manager.”
“It’s fine, it’s not worth it right now. If it’s still bad after promotions are over then I’ll tell him.”
Jeno’s frown deepened. “Your health matters more than promotions going smoothly.”
He offers a smile, a small one to feign genuineness. I know that. It’s just not as big of a deal as you’re imagining. It barely hurts.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jeno said, still sounding a bit hesitant.
Haechan barged into his room, after the sun had long set. “You’re really stupid, you know that?”
Jaemin didn’t bother to look up. “I’m aware.”
“No,” Haechan started, “I don’t think you are.”
Jaemin looked up at that, finding an amused look dancing around in Haechan’s eyes.
He bit back a groan, shifting his gaze away. He knew whatever Donghyuck would say was not something he would want to hear.
“Jeno talked to me.”
A stretch of silence followed, and this time Jaemin isn’t quick enough to catch his groan. “Can you get to the fucking point?”
Haechan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t rush the messenger.”
Jaemin debated shoving Haechan out, but the boy spoke up eventually. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for, you know. He asked me what was up with you, and said you gave him the same lie you gave me about your back hurting. He complained about how you never really tell him stuff anymore, though you pretend to. He knows, Jaem.”
Jaemin didn’t know how to respond. “It’s not a lie,” he found himself saying. “My back really does hurt.”
Haechan sighed, as if he expected his response. “Talk to him, asshole. He’s worried.”
Jaemin smiled teasingly. “Is he the only worried one? I know you loooove me.”
Haechan was all bark and no bite, his only flaw when going up against Jaemin. He stumbled backwards as the younger boy puckered his lips, enclosing him as if he were prey.
“Stay back! I swear to god, don’t come any closer.”
“Why not, Haechanie?” Jaemin said obnoxiously in a higher, more annoying pitch of his voice. “You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
He chased Haechan out successfully, locking his door just in case.
He doesn’t want to think about what Haechan said, about the frown marring Jeno’s face.
He doesn’t want to think about it, so he doesn’t. He thought of anything else, everything else.
Everything else unfortunately included reminders of why he always keeps himself busy, so Jaemin found himself in bed. He willed away the thoughts in favour of sleep, trying to drift away to a space where no one could hurt him.
—
Renjun intercepted him next. He can’t say that he wasn’t expecting it, but he had hoped it would come at a much later date.
(Preferably never, but that was wishful thinking)
“Jaemin, can we talk?” He announced in front of the entire group. He had nowhere to hide, so he followed.
“What’s up?” Jaemin tried for nonchalance.
Renjun just stared for a bit, worrying his lip with his top teeth. He looked cute like this, Jaemin could admit that much to himself. No wonder Mark was so obsessed with him.
“You’ve been… off for a while.”
“Did Hyuck set you up for this?”
Renjun’s eyes squinted, as if trying to make out what Jaemin had said. “No? What? Why would you think that?”
“He’s been trying to ruin my life recently.”
Renjun scoffed. “More like he’s probably been trying to call you out on your bullshit.”
Jaemin’s eyes narrowed. “Be honest though, someone set you up for this, right? You didn’t realize anything yourself.”
He only really realized how condescending his words sound after they leave his mouth, but he can’t find it in himself to regret it.
“What the hell? I don’t— what are you even trying to get at?”
He hesitated. “No, nothing. Sorry, just forget it.”
“No,” Renjun started, sounding annoyed. “No, tell me.”
Jaemin felt cornered, like he revealed too much and couldn’t put up his walls fast enough. Couldn’t collect his bleeding heart in time. What was his problem? Why did he say that?
He didn’t like not knowing things. Only when his cards were placed neatly in front of him could Jaemin relax.
“I don’t know,” he said, though it all felt distant, all of a sudden. What was wrong with him?
“You don’t know,” Renjun repeated back at him, clearly unimpressed. Ever the empath though, he seemed to sense Jaemin’s discomfort and backed off, sitting beside him instead of looming over him.
He waited for Jaemin to talk, to answer, but he didn’t have one.
“I think I’m just stressed,” Jaemin muttered. Everything felt like it was piling up all at once, and he was drowning, drowning.
“Do you want to hear what I think?”
No, not really.
Jaemin stays silent.
“I think you need a break.”
He held back a scoff, his lips pursed together. “You’re so full of shit.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Like a hiatus-sort-of-break or just a break?”
“Jaemin.”
“What?” He asked. “It’s a genuine question!”
Renjun sighed. “A hiatus, Jaem.”
Jaemin rolled his eyes. A hiatus was out of the question. Besides the fact SM probably wouldn’t allow it, Jaemin would be damned to admit publicly that something was wrong.
If he were to admit to Donghyuck, that something was wrong.
It didn’t make sense, but gone were the days of watching animatedly as their green light sticks swayed along to the beat of the song. Of their song, of his song.
When did it start to happen? When did his happiness, his passion start waning?
Why? How?
How could Haechan, could Donghyuck deal with it better than Jaemin? How could he take a break, when Haechan dealt with so much more?
Jaemin stayed silent, knowing Renjun could guess his answer. It was so easy until it wasn’t, usually no one pushed him past his breaking point.
He needed to be deserving of a break, and currently he wasn’t anywhere close. It was either all in or all out, you’re in the group or you’re not.
Jaemin also wouldn’t put himself on that tightrope again, watching his group on stage, while he sat alone with an aching back and unshed tears. In or out. No in between.
Jaemin and Donghyuck may be from the same whole, so similar in the worst ways, but Donghyuck was so different in the best ways. He was so full of life, jaded yet hopeful. It was annoying, if Jaemin was going to be forced to let his heart bleed out, he would much rather do so with someone who could relate. Donghyuck could relate to some extent, he was the closest Jaemin got to a mirror of himself.
But he was missing the most dreadful parts, so were they really similar?
“Na Jaemin,” Renjun said firmly.
Jaemin groaned. “What?”
And he could see it: the tell-tale signs of Renjun’s anger. The twitch of his fingers, the slight downturn of his lips.
Renjun liked to control things, and Jaemin was always falling short of what he needed. Jaemin liked to be in control, but he didn’t necessarily like controlling things. He couldn’t relinquish that control to anyone though, and that’s where they clashed.
There wasn’t tension in the air, per say, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It boarded the line of anger, a thin shred hanging between the both of them.
“You are the stupidest person I’ve ever met. Seriously, I’ve never seen someone so adamant to stand in front of their own happiness.”
“You’ve met Mark,” he counters.
Renjun scoffed. “Mark doesn’t stand in front of his own happiness, he’s just overly passionate and a huge fucking perfectionist. I don’t know what your problem is, though.”
“Maybe I’m a masochist.”
“Babe, you’re far from a masochist.”
Jaemin had to fight down the red flooding his cheeks. The pet names are a running joke, he knows this, hell, he was the one to first start jokingly flirting with the others, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own.
(His heart seemed to have a mind of its own).
“How would you know?” He said with saccharine sweetness. “Don’t think you’ve ever walked in on me before.”
“Interesting how you immediately jumped to sex.”
He rolled his eyes. “Like that’s not what you were talking about.”
“It’s not but okay, whatever. That’s not what’s important.”
“And pray, tell me what is important, my dear Injunnie?” His voice pitched high.
“I don’t know how Haechan deals with you.” Renjun sighed, exasperated.
“Yeah,” Jaemin mused. “I don’t know how either.”
—
Jaemin spent the next week for the most part in his room, holed away from the rest of the world. He comes out only to eat, though it feels robotic, wrong.
It’s a pattern, a schedule, which is as much peace as he can ask for. He doesn’t want to take it for granted, he doesn’t want to miss this time gifted to him.
Life was so chaotic, as an idol. Jaemin always wished time would move slower, it seemed to slip through his fingers like water, never concrete.
Haechan was busy, but spent his one day off knocking down Jaemin’s door.
“Open the fucking door!”
“Now, now,” Jaemin tutted, a smile creeping its way onto his face. “That’s not how we ask nicely.”
He could practically hear Haechan fuming, he had to bite back the laugh threatening to burst through his lips.
“Na Jaemin, I swear to god if you don’t open this door I’ll—
“What? You’ll do what?”
“I’ll break it down!”
He scoffs. “Sure you will, keep telling yourself that.”
Silence follows, enough so that Jaemin assumes Haechan had left.
“Please?”
He paused with that. Haechan’s voice is nothing like he’s heard before. It was quiet and raw, in a way that Hechan was never supposed to be.
In a way Donghyuck never let Haechan be.
He snapped open the door without thinking, letting the light burst into his room. Haechan stood in the doorway, his bottom lip between his teeth.
Jaemin turned away, heading back to his bed. He can hear the hesitant trotting behind him, flaring up his nerves. Haechan was never hesitant in his actions, always confident, with the hesitance hidden behind his blinding smile.
“What?” he blurted out impatiently. Haechan stared at him with his eyes clouded over, his mouth set in a straight line.
“Jaemin,” he started, his voice tilted in a familiar way. It’s his stage voice, how he talks to the fans.
Jaemin gazed at him, incredulously.
“What?” He repeated.
“The rest of us are eating at the table if you want to join.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
“Well— maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”
He lets a small smile slip, noticeable enough that Haechan relaxes slightly.
“So? You coming?”
Jaemin grunted , pushing himself off of his bed. “Let’s go.”
True to his word, the rest are gathered around the table; even Mark and Chenle present. Their laughs echo around the halls, the smell of freshly cooked meat making his stomach grumble.
“Why the hell are they here?”
“Hi Jaemin,” Chenle smiled, all teeth visible in a show of faux innocence. “It’s so nice to see you too!”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. What possessed you two— you three actually, to come here?”
“What?” Chenle said, the same innocent tilt dripping from his voice. “I can’t come visit my favourite co-workers?”
“Can someone please get him to shut up.”
“On it!” Renjun shouted enthusiastically, leaping across the table to strangle the younger boy. They dissolve into a wrestling match of sorts, though a pathetic one at best.
“Well,” Mark spoke up, “Donghyuck suggested a team dinner at the dorms, so we came.”
Of course he did.
Jaemin watched the way Haechan stiffened, the way he avoided Jaemin’s eyes carefully.
“Oh did he now?” Jaemin adopted the sweet tone Chenle wore, along with a smile to match.
Mark goes on about ‘team initiatives’ blissfully unaware of the growing tension in the room.
Jeno watches the both of them with a frown, while Renjun focuses his gaze wholly on the ground. They definitely had something to do with this.
The doorbell rang, silencing the room effectively. “That must be the food.”
“I’ll go get it,” Jaemin gritted out. Anything to get him out of this situation; he felt as if he was grappling for the surface, being thrown into the ocean with no prior warning.
The food is warm in his arms, licking at his skin. Jaemin debated on letting it spill all over the floor, just to be petty. It would be something Haechan would do if the roles were reversed.
He found them whispering amongst each other, abruptly stopping when he came into view.
Jaemin could feel the last of his patience run thin, right then and there. “Cut the bullshit, guys. If you want to say something just say it.”
“Um,” Jisung started shakily, “well—
“Something needs to change,” Renjun butted in.
“You need to start taking care of yourself more,” Haechan added.
Jaemin scoffed. “Oh yeah? That’s really rich coming from you.”
A frown grows on the other’s face. “No, it’s not the same–
“Are you hearing yourself right now? Okay, yeah, it’s not the same. You know why? You’re in two groups, versus just one. So yeah, it’s not the same at all—
“Jaemin,” Mark whispered sweetly, only proving to grate on his nerves further.
“No, you don’t get to say anything either. You guys are both working yourselves to the bone, but you want to talk about me taking care of myself? Give me a fucking break.”
He felt himself losing his edge, as anger flared up so deeply inside of him. It was satisfying in the worst way.
“Shut up, you two,” Renjun grumbled.
A tense silence fell over them. Jaemin hated it.
“I’m leaving,” he announced.
“No you aren’t,” Jeno replied hastily, grabbing onto his arm.
“Yes, I am,” he said, ripping his arm out of Jeno’s grip.
Donghyuck sighed. “Can we please talk about this like adults?”
“Excuse me?”
“Okay no,” Mark butted it. “That’s enough for today. We can revisit this conversation later.”
Jaemin was very tempted to continue, but his respect for Mark outweighed his anger. He got up, heading to his room without another thought.
They were all hypocrites. Jaemin could practically feel his blood rushing through his veins as his heart pumped with adrenaline and anger. The room grew smaller until it was non-existent, the world vanishing right before his eyes.
All that existed was him at that moment. He felt so weak, but so powerful. An all encompassing feeling washed over him, though he couldn’t properly make it out.
Nothing made sense.
Ah, he was crying.
Jaemin never cried. Even as a child, it was a rare occurrence. He felt stupid all at once, as tears poured out of him as if they were racing with time. He didn’t even understand why he was crying, he wasn’t upset. Angry? Yeah. But sad?
He was lost. Trapped inside his own body, lost amongst what should be easy to navigate.
This wasn’t him.
—-
He was smiling.
He could feel it, stretching the skin on his face. It was an uncomfortable thing to be conscious of, yet the fact repeated in his mind with the current of the wind.
It wasn’t necessarily real, though it wasn’t completely fake either. It was somewhere in between, created to both express his happiness and to hide his pain.
He was acting, but it wasn’t forced. It was acting that came as naturally to him as breathing, that he couldn’t just switch on and off. It was a part of him, to put on an act.
(Lying, manipulating, withholding the truth)
It was him in a way. So was it really an act?
He hated being aware of the mold behind the plastic. It made everything redundant, what good was an act if he knew it was fake? Before fooling everyone else, Jaemin desperately wanted to fool himself. If he could just ignore the gaping hole in his chest, empty and ever growing as he laughed, maybe everything would be okay. If he couldn’t tell fake from real, then everything fell somewhere in the middle: content, okay.
Okay was all he asked for, nowadays.
Everyone was laughing around him, the act came on so naturally. He hated it as much as he loved it, as convenient as it was, it only left Jaemin to ponder who he really was.
He hated it. He hated what he’s become, what his life has turned into.
But what could he do about it?
Stuck, though not literally. Nothing was physically stopping him. He had his own free will, and really, how hard would it be to just… leave?
He couldn’t, though. Who was he, if not the person on stage who smiles, who dances, who is everything he wishes he could be?
And would leaving even help? He would still be… him. Regardless of where he was, Jaemin was an actor at heart.
Leaving wouldn’t change the fact there was something wrong with him.
Something was wrong, but it was oh so convenient. A trait anyone in the spotlight would wish for; the ability to put on an act at all times allowed for Jaemin to do his job wonderfully.
So why was he so unhappy?
“Jaemin,” Mark’s voice washed over him, so sweet, yet all it did was grate on his nerves.
He turned to face the leader, regarding him with a blank stare.
Mark paused, seemingly hesitant. When he spoke again Jaemin had to strain to hear him, as if the older one was sharing a valuable secret.
“Are you okay?” he said, his eyes downturned in a look of pity.
Jaemin didn’t want pity, especially not from Mark. Mark, who had twice the amount of work than he did, but would still sit and listen to Jaemin as if his problems held any validity in comparison.
Weak. Jaemin was weak.
He has always been and will always be. A fact, simply unarguable.
He was angry, but in a detached sort of way. It’s an anger that had manifested a long time ago, and had never gone away. It lingered in between his bones, a small fire that only needed bits of kindle to grow.
He was angry, so angry at himself.
He could direct that anger at Mark, if only to get him to leave him alone. He was never the loud type when angry, instead calculated and mean in an effort to push everyone away. Mark wouldn’t know what to do with his anger, he knew.
Sweet Mark, who could be manipulated so easily. He was nice, genuine and naive, an easy target.
He looked away, meeting the watchful gaze of Haechan instead. The laughter still rang around him, but Jaemin swore the air shifted.
Jaemin knew, between the two of them, who Haechan liked more. He knew if he messed with Mark, he would never be forgiven. Haechan stared as if he could hear Jaemin’s internal monologue, his lips slightly downturned.
Only if you looked close enough. To most, Haechan held a neutral expression, but he noticed what most didn’t. Again, it was like looking at a warped mirror. He could make out most details.
“Yeah,” he whispered, a wide smile adorning his face. “I’m great, actually.”
Mark stared as if he was trying to understand what Jaemin said. His lips were pursed, Jaemin similarly didn’t know what to make of him.
Whatever. Mark wasn’t his problem. As long as Mark didn’t try to meddle where he didn’t belong, they would be fine. Everything would be fine.
Haechan barged into his room once the dorm had quieted, his face twisted in a look of displeasure. He stood silently for a beat, as if he was taking in the new environment.
Jaemin’s room was shrouded in darkness, like it always was. A singular lamp illuminated the entire space, giving everything a warm glow. There wasn’t anything amiss, but Haechan still stood in silence as if he didn’t belong.
“What’s your problem?” Haechan finally spoke, his voice ringing throughout the room.
Jaemin bit back the initial grin that threatened to take over his face; he couldn’t help it. Donghyuck looked so funny when he fumed.
“What’s your problem?” He parroted back, if only to see the red staining the other’s cheeks to grow.
“Seriously, Jaemin. This isn’t a joke.”
“I never said it was.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Jaemin didn’t know how to respond to that. Doing what, exactly? Having a midlife crisis? Hell, he wanted to know the answer just as bad. Life would be a lot easier if he could just go along with it, though he thought Haechan would understand that.
“I’m not doing anything,” he mumbled back.
“You’re different.”
Jaemin sighed. “Are we seriously back to this again?”
Haechan didn’t respond immediately. He made Jaemin wait, as if they were in some bad suspense movie. As if he needed to get his bearings, as if he was plunging into the unknown.
It didn’t make any sense, besides the fact that they had known each other since they were both fourteen and stupid, this conversation was far from being new.
He regarded Jaemin once more before shifting his gaze. “I don’t understand you.”
Jaemin scoffed. “There’s nothing to understand.”
“No,” Haechan started. “I think there’s a lot to understand that you’re too stubborn to communicate.”
“As if you’re any different.”
Haechan smiled wryly. “I’m not sixteen anymore Jaem, I know how to communicate as an adult.”
“Sure you do, and Mark knows how to stop before he falls.”
“At least Mark knows how to fucking speak to people.”
“Oh sure he does, he makes sure to tell everyone when he’s on the verge of a panic attack, instead of hiding away, doesn’t he?.”
“He’s gotten better at talking,” Haechan muttered in a tone Jaemin couldn't decipher. It was unsettling, but the thought only lingered for a second.
“Mark is practically the same, don’t bullshit me.” His tone grew hard with the rising heat of the room, scratching at his skin.
“He’s really not. You on the other hand? You’re similar to your sixteen year old self in the worst ways.”
“Wow thanks Hyuck, you really know how to make a guy feel better,” Jaemin scoffed, trying to mask the growing pit in his gut. He wasn’t anywhere close to similar to his old self, he knew that.
He thought Haechan knew that.
Why were they having this conversation again?
“Seriously, how are you supposed to enjoy working if you can’t see past that fog clogging your vision?”
“I don’t enjoy it.” He muttered, mostly to himself.
The way Haechan faltered slightly was telling.
“What? You don’t enjoy what?”
A beat. “I don’t know.”
“No, this is the most honest you’ve been with me in weeks, I won’t let you back away from this.”
“Again, really boosting my ego here. Not everything that comes out of my mouth is a lie.”
“No!” Haechan’s voice rose as the room quieted. “Shut up and talk to me! Stop dancing around everything and have a fucking conversation with me, is it that hard—
“Woah, woah,” Renjun’s voice sounded from the hallway. He leaned against the door with his eyebrows slightly furrowed, clear worry marring his face.
“Hyuck, leave him alone for now. Nothing productive is going to come out of you two screaming at each other.”
Haechan stood with a frown, glaring at Jaemin but letting the silence continue.
“I don’t understand you.” The older finally spoke, storming away quickly after.
Those words punctured him in a way he couldn’t articulate. Haechan had just said that before, but this time it truly dangled in front of his eyes with a new clarity.
What was so hard to understand?
Maybe, the two of them weren’t as similar as Jaemin first thought. After all, if they were, Haechan would have no problem understanding him, right?
Right. Haechan, who still shined so brightly on stage, who didn’t have to fake a smile. How could he ever assume them to be similar.
“I guess I’m a hard person to understand,” he whispered to the quiet of his room, the words quickly falling flat as if nothing was said at all.
Nobody was there to respond.