#band!

The rapper’s eyes widened in hurt. “W-why not?”

The eldest rubbed a hand over his face before patting the boy’s shoulder and stepping around him. There were a thousand reasons why not. Key was a social butterfly, but Kibum wasn’t. Key was all about partying hard through the week, Kibum wasn’t. Key liked to laugh and joke with the rest of the band, Kibum didn’t. Key was an adorable, fashion-conscious, arrogant superstar; Kibum wasn’t.

Besides, Minho was not exactly ideal company when one wanted space.

“I’ll deal with it once I’m dressed OK?” Onew made a false promise, tightening the towel around his waist.

“B-but hyung,” he heard the other call out just as he was about to close the bedroom door behind him and forget the whole ordeal. “What if… what if Kibum ran away?”

Onew frowned at how dimwitted that sounded.

------

Five minutes later, he plugged out the headphones from his ears. Minho had planted the seed of doubt in his mind and no matter how deep he dug, it could not be uprooted. K.Will’s crooning wouldn’t fix this, he thought. He had to get out of bed and do something. Moving towards the door, he peeked out into the dorm to see if anything stirred. Key would usually be playing with the dogs or eating something when he was around. And he’d be making plenty of noise as he did it. Currently, everything lay silent in the apartment.

Which meant he wasn’t back yet. 

Onew retracted himself into the confines of his room. He ran a thumb over the screen of his phone, contemplated clicking on the green phone next to a contact. “Kibaem” the letters spelled out. Onew nearly made up his mind to call, just for some peace. But then he thought of all the times he’d wanted space from the world and no one would afford it to him. He thought of times when he’d get short with the others, and Key would pull him away by the wrist. He thought of how they walked to a nearby park, Key never asking questions and Onew never offering answers. If anyone understood how the leader functioned when his mood was foul, it was Key. And now it was time to offer him the same courtesy.

Except Kibum’s head was different. He liked being surrounded by people when he was upset. He liked gathering all his friends together because they made him feel happy. They erased his mind to a blank slate. Key was social, but Kibum was dependent. He needed others for something as basic as feeling comfortable in his own skin.

If Onew had to make a choice right now, he would call. He should make sure the guy was alright and unhurt, at least. He didn’t even need an explanation behind the sudden disappearance, just an “I’m fine” would suffice. Once again his thumb hovered over the button for a second, before ultimately roving to the side of the phone and switching off the screen. 

If it turned out that Key didn’t pick up his call either, he’d just feel embarrassed.

------

Half an hour went by with no sign of the man’s return. It wouldn’t bother Onew so much if they didn’t have a schedule to be at tomorrow. 

Minho and Onew arrived together on the same train last night. Jonghyun was already here and making himself a sandwich, talking about going on a short drive. Taemin was on his way, his brother saying he’d do a quick drop-in to say hello. The maknae had sent Onew a text asking if he should bring a few cold beers to open, before a long set of promotional dates swamped their days and nights. They had three shows and a concert rehearsal to look forward to in the next three weeks. Onew had requested two cases.

Key couldn’t go missing. It wasn’t viable for the band. 

“Anyone know where the--” he started to ask, exiting his room and looking for any answers. Minho was on the sofa with his arms locked between his thighs, rocking to and fro like he was in the waiting room of a hospital. Jonghyun looked up from his phone with breadcrumbs stuck around his mouth.

“Hyung?” he prodded the leader to continue.

“--snow boots.” Onew pocketed his own phone like he hadn’t been contemplating calling Key for the past thirty minutes. “I wanted to go out for a walk but I can’t remember where I left my pair.”

The other two looked at him like he’d asked them for a million won in cash. “But... it’s really bad weather outside,” Minho pointed out the obvious. “What if... what if you get lost too, hyung?!”

Jonghyun scoffed. “Bummie isn’t lost, you idiot. He’s not some kid. He’ll be back on his own time.” He looked up at the leader--”I think they’re in the laundry room? I just keep mine in the car.”

“I--” Onew bit his lip. “I’ll do without, never mind.” He shrugged on his coat and wrapped a scarf round his neck. When he had one hand snug in a glove, he took one look back at the dorm and slipped out. Something in his mouth urged him to say goodbye.

------

When they were in Japan a long time ago, Onew shared a room with Key for the first leg of their tour. It was late in the night when the eldest came out of the bathroom in the midst of a cloud of steam.

“You like hot showers, huh?” Key commented from a seat on the floor. He had his back against the foot of his bed and a bottle of soju in his hand. From the way his speech dragged, he was already drunk.

“Where’d you get that?” Onew asked about the alcohol, pausing on his way to get dressed. He walked to stand in front of the other but it was difficult to be stern in nothing but a towel. So he shifted from foot to foot until Kibum playfully pulled on the edge of the ridiculously fluffy white thing. He squawked and grappled for control of his dignity. “Ki--yah!” he reprimanded, jumping away.

“Manager hyung is right across the hallway. We’ll get in trouble if you’re caught drinking the night before a performance, you know that right?” he admonished.

Key... no. Kibum smiled up at him. He patted the carpet next to him in a gesture asking for company. And Onew took the cue to turn into Jinki, let out a long sigh as if releasing himself from another body, before he settled beside the other.

“Hmm… you enjoying this visit?” Kibum tried making casual conversation. “You liking the summer heat? Had a taste of the food? The ladies?” Jinki had been out on a trek of the city all day, away from the others. He liked his band-mates but they could get a little suffocating sometimes. A few hours around the city by himself, with a camera in his hand, was all he’d needed to relax just before the big day tomorrow. He’d been to a restaurant, met a cute waitress there and flirted with her a little. It was routine, like everything else in their lives. But the way Kibum asked his questions held some hostility behind the words. Jinki nearly flinched away. 

“Yeah, it’s OK,” was all he allowed himself to say. “Always like going home best. Why, what did you do?” he asked.

The other took a long look at him before scoffing and shaking his head dismissively. “I waited...” he mumbled as he sidled closer to the leader. He put his bottle aside and rubbed tired hands over tired features, oddly sober all of a sudden. “I waited a long time.”

------

Out in the snow Onew felt the compulsion to take a sharp u-turn and return to the dorm. This wasn’t any weather to be outside. He would rather be cocooned in his blankets than look for a crazy man.

He ducked into a niche for safety and took out his phone, muttering curses under his breath. There were no messages from Key, only frantic calls from Minho. He ignored them all and decided it was high time he made a call of his own. It obviously redirected him to the idiot’s messages.

“Hey, asshole!” he yelled into his phone. “Where the hell are you? You’ve any idea how shitty Minho is being right now?! Pick up your bloody phone!” he scolded an invisible band-mate and then jabbed his finger at the end call button.

As soon as he was off the line Onew regretted it. He’d let his anger get the better of him, and that was very unprofessional. No matter how frustrating the others got he always managed to keep himself in check but Key… Kibum always managed to slip under his skin and crawl all over it like the madman he was.

He had two choices now—he could return to the dorm and wait with the others. Or he could keep walking around aimlessly hoping Key called or texted back with some clue about where the hell he’d ended up. For all Onew knew, he could be in danger or even stuck somewhere with all this snow cascading down on them like a miniature landslide.

“Fuck…” he grit his teeth and continued walking away from Apgujeong.

Cars were stalled deeper in the city, the storm making people park their vehicles to the side and take sanctuary in cafes. On a brigde in the distance the sound of irritated honking resonated through the air. Onew crossed several packed streets and bright-lit restaurants when his phone buzzed again. He had half a mind of ignoring it and continuing onward, in case it was Minho again. But instinct urged him to take a look anyway. And when he did, he was glad he’d decided to check.

Kibaem: Station. 30 mins.

------

When they first met Key was very bubbly, and insisted on shaking everyone’s hand. He wore ridiculously colorful clothes that stood out like eyesores, but his eyes were the blackest of black. His hands had a strange grace, but his footsteps made too much of a pat-pat. He spoke loudly, throwing his head back and laughing even louder. His English was impeccable, but the rest of his speech still held on to satoori which made simple conversations with him a struggle. Of the few who would approach him, some would ask for explanations while others would politely smile and keep their distance.

Onew had been the first, and possibly the last to suggest, “You should speak the Gyeonggi dialect now that you’re in Seoul.”

Key’s bright smile had dwindled in strength. “Why,” he’d challenged. “Why don’t you learn to understand what I’m saying?” now switched to standard dialect, clearly competent at it. He tilted his head at a bewildered Onew. “Why the fuck should I change for you when you have nothing to offer me? Your pathetic attempts at discussion are so full of shit, why should I make a fucking effort to engage you? Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway? Asshole...”

The full weight of his darkness fell on Onew like a hammer with every word. It filled the hallway until it reached his thighs, lapped at his knuckles and left traces of its heaviness on his skin. Key’s eyes grew in blackness, emptying everything else of color. Onew had taken a step back, then. His heart thumped in fright, spluttering tar like it had been poured down his throat. “S-sorry,” he’d mumbled. Everywhere he looked, his sight had been stained with the grey of his shame. 

That day hence, he kept his head lowered, spoke only when spoken to, offered no advice he wasn’t sure of himself. And when they put him in a group alongside Key, he felt the arrows pierce through his neck his chest his arms every time he moved around the other in formation. They slammed him with the title of leader, but when he spoke to the others he always assumed a quiet role, lurking in the background, never taking the spotlight for himself. Onew was a soft, wordless presence who simply stood in the sidelines and did nothing unless it was in the script. His husk of a presence fluttered around, unseen, while the band grew in strength--

Until Key found him in a room, practicing his scales. “You have a good voice,” he’d said. And then he’d walked away as if he’d never opened his mouth in the first place. It was puppetry, a black art. 

Onew looked at himself in the mirror that day, for a long time. Noise rose and abated in the hallway outside. Someone called him to stage, someone else reminded him to be out in five minutes. A stylist walked up to him and started fussing with his hair, another attended to his face. They said nothing to him, as if he were a lifeless mannequin. Somewhere in the middle of this movement, this commotion, Key appeared in the back of his head and pushed him out of his chair.

Onew looked at himself in the mirror that day, and from the depths of his timorous self he pulled Jinki to the surface.

------

An hour and some minutes into his trek, Onew felt like punching a nearby wall.

Bastard, he thought. What is he up to now? He complained but he was familiar with such behavior. Every once in a while Key acted up and led the elder on wild goose chases across the city. Sometimes they ended up in some obscure location with no way back. Other times they broke stupid laws right in front of negligent police officers who unfortunately noticed them and pursued them for hours before giving up.

He was convinced this was another one of Key’s terrible jokes. But even that knowledge didn’t stop him from doing as he was told. He went back a street and ran down a flight of steps to the subway station. With any luck the next train out would be here any minute to take him away.

As he sat in the nearly empty carriage he clicked open the message and started to type out all the curses he could conjure up in his brain. But when it came down to actually replying all he could manage was an OK in tame acceptance. He nearly sent the acquiescence, too. But his fingers moved of their own accord and called the man. He left his second voicemail for the night, then. “Taem and Jjong--they don’t even know,” he says in a low tone. “They don’t even know, Kibum. What will you tell them? What will they say? They’ll want answers. What will they think--?”

When the automated voice announced the next station, he instinctively cut the call.

In twenty minutes, he alighted, ran through the station towards its exit, scanned his pass at the gates, and when they didn’t open he simply jumped over the metal spokes and ran up multiple stairs to the street. He stalled for a moment when he reached the surface, scanning around himself, getting his bearings right. A severe traffic block separated him from his destination. He rushed into the chaos, car horns blaring at him in protest. The buildings above seemed to bend forwards, looking down at him in curiosity. He covered his ears and marched onward.

Behind him, a loud angry yell called for him to stop. He paid it no heed and raced out to the underground tunnel leading to Seoul station. Halfway down the stairs he tripped, falling and landing on his behind. “Shit,” he ground out in pain. A policeman’s whistle pierced through the air. Onew threw himself forward and descended the rest of the way, taking the nearest escalator and pulling up his hood.

When he reached the lowest level of the subway, he glanced around for a familiar stretch of shoulders. A train pulled in and proclaimed its arrival. Onew’s gut bubbled with anxiety. Something told him he was meant to board the train and never look back again. But he wouldn’t do it alone. “Kibum...” he whispered ineffectively. He made a box around his mouth and tried again, much louder this time “Kibum!” 

As his eyes roved before his feet moved again, a body heavily crashed into him.

------

One night somewhere in Europe, outside an old abandoned building, Key relieved himself and let out a sigh. Taemin giggled in the distance, saying a word or two but making no sense on the whole. Jonghyun whistled, stopping once in a while to sip from a bottle. Minho sat on top of a wall, sharing a bag of peanuts with Onew. 

Tonight they were gods, tomorrow they would he whisked away. But at this moment, in the short few breaths they were allowed in between, they were free. They were not five, they were not one. They were nothing but a bunch of young, foolish men. The praises and the attention had its place, but it wasn’t here. Right now they wanted to fill their time with meaningless wanderings and equally meaningless banter.

They could've been in a club, among people getting drunk off of life, off of each other. They could’ve been in a car, racing through the dark streets towards dangerous cliffs and steep hills. They could’ve been anywhere but the peace here was the most addictive. The silences were headier than beats on a dance floor. The quiet rustling of leaves on a barely-there tree was more intoxicating than bottles of alcohol. They could’ve all been alone, but camaraderie in the aftermath of an explosion is balm to their wounds.

Onew jumped off the wall and brushed off the seat of his pants, dusting his hands. “Time to go,” he called out. Key, nearest to him, turned back and spat at the ground in response before walking out into the black night. “I mean it,” Onew reinforced. Minho followed suit and backed him but no one paid them any attention. The leader rolled his head back in exasperation. He jogged a short distance, until he reached Key. “Please, we must go,” he requested and made to call the other two back with him.

Key hooked his fingers in the back of Onew’s shirt and held him back. “Stay,” he insisted. “A few more minutes,” he reassured. They walked awhile, exchanging no more. Taemin ran at them at some point with his arms flailing above his head. Jonghyun chased him down, acting as if he’d playfully spill his beer on the maknae. When they reached a panicking Minho, they ran circles around him until the drink was accidentally splashed all over his front.

“I want to leave,” Key abruptly said then. Onew’s head whipped too fast, pulling a muscle. He almost hissed and made to nurse his ache, but the shade of the other’s gaze was too dangerously colorless. His hand hovered over the pain, but a set of colder, longer fingers pushed it aside. Key... no. Kibum massaged his neck with compassion no one had ever sensed in him before. Onew couldn’t tell if the alcohol has made it surface, of if it had been tucked away spikes of black ice only to rear its head at a time like this. But every gentle stroke of the other’s palm pulled Jinki out into the open; pulled him closer to the man, making him squint into bottomless eyes that veered him in mad directions.

“Come with me,” Kibum added. It was an order, not a suggestion.

-----

Jinki breathed heavily, Kibum’s exhales hitting him just as hard. A pair of hands held his sides tightly. The train growled around them, rails rattling under its weight. The tunnel darkened their vision, and the walls closed in around them like a choke-hold. Jinki’s lashes brushed against a heated forehead. Kibum’s throat gulped on a huffing shoulder. A pair of feet fit snugly into the space another pair made for it. A pair of arms circled a sweating neck. A coat was shed and dropped to the floor below them. Jinki patted Kibum’s back. Kibum nodded his head. Their phones buzzed angrily, keeping time with each other in a strange song. But their minds were too full of a decade’s worth of unsaid words. The mass of silent dialogues seethed, bubbled, quietly spat at them and burned their tongues. Jinki watched the other closely, bars of light speeding over Kibum’s face from a crack in the doors. When the overhead lamps came on again, and an empty train took them to another place, another time, another dimension, one smiled while the other held on tighter.