It came as a surprise to no one when the formation of their group was officially announced, though expecting it did nothing to make the news seem any less surreal. There was a fourth member whose name none of the three long-time trainees knew, a tall bespectacled boy who said nothing and stared at his hands for the length of the meeting. They were told that an American would be joining them shortly and that they should continue their training as normal in the meantime, then were ushered out of the office, through a bustling hallway, and back into the elevator they had all arrived in feeling like completely different people. The boys stared at their reflections on the metal walls encasing them, and could almost see the weight of their dreams on their suddenly tense shoulders.
As their soon-to-be-manager had said, their lives continued on as normal, but Yunho could already see small changes taking effect within the newly formed group. Junsu spent all his time with his friends Sungmin and Hyukjae, the normally friendly boy avoiding his bandmates almost entirely when outside of practice. The new boy, he had later introduced himself as Shim Changmin, made a strained effort to converse with his hyungs. Yunho himself practiced harder than ever, and on the worst of nights slept on the floor of the dance studio, legs too weak and tired for him to drag himself to his apartment. (It was a mystery to Yunho why on these nights he always woke up with the same warm, pink blanket securely wrapped around him, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.)
Yunho found himself watching the eldest member most of all, as his change was the smallest and most difficult to perceive. It happened every day without fail, during the short pauses of their training sessions. When most would reach for their water bottles, gulping the cool liquid between desperate gasps for air, Jaejoong would reach for his cellphone, fingers scrolling down a list of names until it stopped on one, the same one every time. He would stare at the tiny screen with a determined look, thumb hovering over the call button in his slightly shaking hand, but always, always he would close his phone with a sharp snap of its cover and shove it back into his bag, a disappointed sigh escaping his lips.
And every time, something in Yunho’s chest burned at the sound.
.
.
“You smell like acorns… and cigarette smoke.”
Yunho turned to the boy sitting next to him, intent on asking him just what the hell acorns smelled like, but reflexively jumped back when he found Jaejoong leaning into him, his face mere inches apart from his.
Jaejoong adopted an amused expression at Yunho’s alarmed look. “It’s really strong up close, but it’s something I could smell just by being near you. Don’t worry; it’s not like I spend my time sniffing you when you’re not looking.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, was Yunho’s first thought, but decided it was wiser to say, “You’d smell like cigarettes too if you didn’t practically drench yourself with cologne everyday.“
“And I think all sane people would agree that it’s better to smell like ‘the essence of man’ rather than a chain smoker in a forest preserve.”
Yunho reached over to lightly shove the boy for being such a smartass, but recoiled his hand with a wince when he felt a muscle in his shoulder cramp from the movement. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed, as Jaejoong’s playful expression was quickly replaced with one of worry. He promptly moved to massage Yunho’s shoulders, the younger feeling himself relax under the pressure of his soothing hands.
“Yunho.” Jaejoong sounded almost timid. “Maybe you shouldn’t push yourself so hard. Practicing yourself to death would be worse than not practicing at all.”
“Thanks, mom, but I think I know my own limits.” But he smiled at the other boy’s apparent concern.
Jaejoong wasn’t satisfied with that answer, however, and continued insisting until Yunho, with a huff and a roll of his eyes, finally agreed to take better care of himself. Jaejoong then happily talked about methods of relieving muscle stress, a few of which Yunho thought couldn’t possibly work, but he knew there was no point in arguing the fact.
When it became clear that Jaejoong wasn’t going to stop talking any time soon, Yunho’s mind inevitably wandered to other things, to their debut that seemed so close and yet far off, to the American boy who would complete their team, to Jaejoong’s sometimes distant, hollow eyes…
His thoughts were interrupted by a wave directly in front of his face, and only then did Yunho realize that the other boy had been quiet for some time and watching him all the while.
“Is it the gay thing again?” Jaejoong asked, smiling mysteriously. “I thought we already got past that.”
Yunho stared at his friend, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re wondering about something again and it has to do with me. Don’t bother denying it because I know it’s true.”
Yunho cursed, annoyed and a little amazed at his hyung’s sense of perception. He didn’t want to bring it up, he really didn’t, but Jaejoong knew and he was waiting—and Yunho himself was maybe more than just a little curious—and at that thought, there was nothing he could do to stop the question from being asked. “It’s your ex who you’ve been trying to call the past week.”
The question came out as a statement, and Jaejoong’s eyes widened, the surprise evident on his face. His mouth hung slightly open, but he quickly shut it before any words could come out, then stared at the ground. To Yunho’s bewilderment, Jaejoong began to clap. “Congratulations, you guessed right this time. Although last time’s flub was more Heechul’s mistake than yours. What will you tackle next? My family? My childhood? Or would you rather keeping prying into my love life?”
“You’re the one who insisted that I ask.” Yunho barely stopped himself from adding “jerk” to the end of his sentence. He hated when Jaejoong got mad at him for seemingly no reason.
Jaejoong scoffed and folded his arms, fully aware that his friend was right but not at all willing to admit it. Frequent as they were, Jaejoong didn’t think anyone would ever take notice of his almost-phone calls, much less guess who the intended recipient was. Had it really been that obvious? Jaejoong had thought he had Yunho pegged, but it scared the singer more than anything to think that maybe Yunho had him pegged too.
“Yes, I’ve been calling my ex. Or more accurately, not calling my ex. Happy?”
“Not particularly.” Yunho spat out, becoming more and more annoyed with every word the other boy spoke. Jaejoong glared, and the look in his eyes was enough to make Yunho’s blood run cold.
“Honestly, Yunho, what do you want me to say? That I’m too pathetic to dial someone’s number? That she’s moved on easily enough, while I’m left missing her like hell? That most days, I don’t even know why I want her back so badly? Is that what you want to hear? Because there it is, all bared out to you.” The words came out in a steady rush, and when he was done, Jaejoong found himself wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. He inwardly cursed himself for being so weak.
Yunho seemed nailed to the spot, gazing at him with an expression laced with either pity or worry, and it made Jaejoong want to scream in frustration. He tore his eyes from Yunho’s, trying to rid himself of the weight of the other boy’s stare, wishing again that he had just kept his mouth shut and his problems safely tucked away. Jaejoong didn’t want any charity; if he got another half-baked “oh, sorry” from Yunho, he would burst. Jaejoong’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt something softly press against the small of his back, and he reflexively reached over to brush it away, but froze when skin met skin.
Yunho used his palm to rub reassuring circles across the height of Jaejoong’s back, all traces of his previous aggravation having dissipated as easily as white wisps of breath against the chilly night air. He smiled to himself a little when he felt the older boy lean into his touch.
“I didn’t want for you to say any of that. I don’t need to know.” Yunho paused thoughtfully, thinking of their last meeting. “Unless you ‘wanted to tell me’ this too.”
Jaejoong choked out a chuckle. “Sorry, but no, I didn't. Not this time.”
Yunho’s hand continued its steady trail on Jaejoong’s back, eventually coming to a rest at his shoulder. Yunho’s thumb absentmindedly grazed the skin of Jaejoong’s neck, and the older boy had to hold back a shiver.
“You must think I’m a loser.” Jaejoong had convinced himself of it, knowing full well how deftly his friend handled himself around girls.
“Not any more of a loser than every other guy who’s ever been dumped. Myself included.”
Jaejoong’s eyes widened at the younger boy’s confession and Yunho laughed in slight embarrassment. Jaejoong could only smile in reply, glad that he was, at least in some small way, understood.
The pair tiptoed around the topic from that point onwards, and after a short stretch of aimless back-and-forth, avoided conversation altogether. The minutes slipped into hours, and Yunho stared quietly at the sky while Jaejoong filled in the silence with mumbled snippets of lyrics and poetry in a jumbled meter.
And this night, like so many others, ended with Yunho asleep and Jaejoong creeping up to fill the space behind him, chest pressed softly against the younger boy’s back and face buried into the back of his neck, fighting off sleep by memorizing the rhythm of Yunho’s steady breathing.
.
.
But the almost-phone calls didn’t stop, and it bothered Yunho more and more with each passing day. Yunho was so affected that he fell into automatic sarcasm and scorn whenever the other trainees talked about their girlfriends and especially when they spoke of relationship troubles. And one day, without realizing how it all came to be, Yunho found that he could no longer talk to Heechul without his hyung yelling and cussing at him constantly, and Donghae avoided him completely.
Yunho’s behavior confused even himself, but he tried his best to ignore it all and immersed himself further in his training, blocking out the truth that was dawning upon him with increasing clarity.
Jung Yunho was jealous. And he couldn’t understand why.
