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Leeteuk wakes in the morning feeling worried. He’s used to this, somehow. It’s a sixth sense he’s gained from fifteen years of being Super Junior’s leader. There’s something wrong.
He grabs his phone and immediately checks the regular sites. Immediately, the worried feeling builds in his chest as he spies a familiar name filling up the trending list.
KIM HEECHUL TO SUE MALICIOUS COMMENTERS
SUPER JUNIOR KIM HEECHUL RESPONDS TO REPORTER
KIM HEECHUL FIRES BACK
And on and on and on. He grips his phone tightly and forces himself to scroll, to read, and what he sees is enough for him to want to throw his phone against the wall. There are their ELFs, as loyal as always, but the amount of malicious comments he sees makes him sick to his stomach. There are actual threats of murder and hate so vicious he can hardly understand it. Towards Heechul. Towards his friend.
Nervous anxiety builds in Leeteuk as he checks his messages. No individual message for him personally, but their Super Junior chat room is blowing up with indignant support from the dongsaengs.
SJ YESUNG: Hyung, gwaenchana? Are you okay? Should we do something?
SJ HYUKJAE: Hyung, we can post messages to support you.
SJ SHINDONG: Saw the post about you hiring a lawyer, hyung. About time!
SJ HEECHUL: …yah, I’m okay. Sorry about this. Hope it doesn’t affect the group’s plans.
Everything after that is a jumble of “it won’t!” and “don’t worry” and “fighting!,” and despite his own worry, Leeteuk still smiles every time he sees the close-knit family their ragtag team has become.
He scrolls down his contact list and calls Heechul. They don’t really call each other (they’re friends, they’re just not that kind of friends) but Leeteuk figures this is enough of an uncommon circumstance.
It rings but his friend doesn’t pick up. Not trying again, Leeteuk settles with sending a quick text. “Are you okay? Call me if you need to.” He knows Heechul has boundaries, has times where he needs to be alone and times when he needs people. Leeteuk has learned, over time and space and distance, how to relate with Heechul. It’s slow, and awkward at times, but it’s certain. He wasn’t kidding when he said Heechul was his only friend.
Heechul’s reply comes around half an hour later, a mere repetition of his earlier message in the group chat. “’I’m okay. Sorry about this. Hope it doesn’t affect the group’s plans.” Leeteuk sighs inwardly while considering what to reply. Something unique about their relationship is that he sometimes doesn’t know where he stands with Heechul: as a leader, guiding a member who’s out of line? Or simply as a friend, concerned about his friend’s wellbeing?
“Never mind that for now,” Leeteuk types out, wondering what to say next. Knowing his friend, Heechul just might explode if he received another “how are you?”
“Never mind that for now. Let me know if you need anything.” Leeteuk finally replies. It’s as far as he can go in this weird give-and-take game they play. If Heechul needs him, he’ll ask.
He doesn’t get a reply.
The day’s trends are more or less the same, Leeteuk notes worriedly, going about his day. When he goes to take Koongie for a walk, he watches as their ELFs rise to the occasion to defend Heechul, and a bit of reassurance calms his heart. He goes on Instagram in between his reps while exercising, visiting the reporter’s profile and promptly reporting it, taking note of the number of likes for Heechul’s comment. He goes to DC Gallery and sees that Heechul has posted the email of his lawyer. He’s serious about this, Leeteuk realizes. It’ll be unprecedented in idol history.
There are a few texts and messages from the company asking questions, some concerned, some angry. Leeteuk fends all of them off, saying he supports Heechul’s actions as Super Junior’s leader. He makes a few calls behind the scenes to soothe some ruffled executives worried about the impact this may have on their company stock. He sends emails to the Label to quietly promote and boost some of Heechul’s content.
And for the whole day, the message that he is waiting for, from only one specific person, never comes.
That night, Leeteuk watches Heetube Live. And isn’t that funny — they live in the same building, but to get to see his friend he has to go on Youtube. Leeteuk guesses it’s probably the same for Heechul too — what a pair they make.
His friend looks good, Leeteuk admits. Wearing a white hoodie from his newest CF, Heechul looks bright and confident. The comments from ELF are rabidly supportive, like they always are. Even on Youtube, Heechul loses none of his swagger. He cracks jokes, makes serious comments, and ends with a resolute promise.
But Leeteuk can see the bags under his eyes covered with makeup, the telltale signs of stress on his friend’s face. Heechul doesn’t look at the camera, eyes darting fast from end to end. It’s the little things that only Leeteuk is sure to see: the way he wrings his hands nervously, or clasps them together until his knuckles grow white. His rapid blinking, or the way he talks too fast and his breathing comes in gasps between sentences.
If he was worried that morning, Leeteuk is now full-on anxious. It takes all of his self-control to not rush over to his friend’s unit now and demand him to talk, to let out his true feelings, the hurt that he’s sure to be carrying.
But Heechul didn’t ask, and so Leeteuk doesn’t go.
Instead, he watches until Heechul turns off the live (noting the split-second of Heechul’s tired frown before he switches off the camera) and waits an hour before starting his own, greeting ELF with a smile.
It takes two hours before he finishes KTY, and his phone has been silent all the while. During the live, he called managers as an excuse to quickly check his messages. Nothing.
Leeteuk shuts off his computer and prepares for bed, but the nagging feeling in the back of his mind won’t go away. His heart grows heavier and more anxious as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, and even when he’s under the covers, the anxiety won’t let him sleep.
Frustrated, Leeteuk sits up in bed and tries calling Heechul again. No answer.
“It’s midnight,” Leeteuk says to himself, “he’s not answering because he’s asleep, right?”
Somehow, he can’t convince himself. He sends another text asking Heechul to call if he needs anything, and lies in bed awake for another half hour, waiting for the reply that never comes.
Leeteuk sits up in bed again and checks the time. 12:30 AM. He can tell that he’s not going to get any sleep tonight.
He gets up fully and changes out of his pajamas again into jogging pants and a shirt, shoving his feet into slippers and walking out the door before he can change his mind.
Before he can stop himself, he’s in front of Heechul’s door.
Heechul ended his live with a sigh. This was exhausting. He had ridden the wave of his anger for almost three days now, commenting on Instagram, posting for ELFs, contacting his lawyer and now this live. It was necessary, and painful, but he had to do it. So why did he now feel like he was breaking apart?
He thought he was used to it. He thought he could live his life just ignoring the trends, ignoring the hashtags with his name in it, ignoring the comments that wished he would disappear. Fifteen years. He had always wanted to be a celebrity, but like he told Dong Yup, at that time…maybe he too wanted to disappear. Just for a while. Just for a break. Just to be away from this craziness for one minute, to not have his every word and action scrutinized until he was laid bare for the world to see. Even his apartment’s walls had holes drilled into them for cameras, when he had to shoot shows. Not even his personal space was personal.
Heechul put his head in his hands and tried to breathe, to ignore the inescapable feeling that he had just begun something that he couldn’t stop. He felt like he had just boarded a train that was gaining speed by the second, careening toward an open cliff and certain disaster.
Time to burn out brilliantly, Heechul thought wryly. If this was how his career ended, might as well end with a bang. Unbidden, frustrated tears came to his eyes. He knew, of course, that the road he was now taking was unprecedented, but he hadn’t expected it to be so lonely.
He had many friends in the industry, of course, but many of them slowly distanced themselves whenever Heechul’s name came up in a bad light. He didn’t blame them — theirs was a dog-eat-dog world, and the reputation of your circle could kill your own career. His friends outside the industry tried, of course, but they could never really understand. Trending, malicious comments, haters and antis — they saw it as part and parcel of their friend’s chosen career. In other words, they thought Heechul could deal with it, and cheered him on from the sidelines.
His members tried, of course they did, but Heechul would rather disappear individually than drag the team down with him. They, probably more than anyone, knew what it felt like — but he loved his members more than his own career. What he told ELF was true — he wished he could be a Super Junior member that wouldn’t spoil Super Junior’s name. His members were supportive, of course — Leeteuk had even tried calling him. Heechul didn’t have the heart to accept the call, afraid of what his leader (friend?) might say. He wasn’t sure if he could take any more criticism. His Jungsoo had gone through enough, and Heechul was sorry to add to his burdens. As long as he could carry this alone, he would never burden his friend with it.
Was he doing the right thing? Not for the first time, Heechul doubted. What if this all went spectacularly wrong? He berated himself for not thinking things through. What if this dragged down Super Junior instead of uplifting it? What if ELF left them as fans? What if he hurt his members’ careers without meaning to — and on their fifteenth anniversary at that? His parents, his family — how would they handle their son being in the middle of a lawsuit fest?
“AISH!!” Heechul screamed, standing up and banging on his table. He needed to drink. He needed to forget, if only for a little while. His heart felt like it was breaking again and again as faces of people he loved (and disappointed) flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t do anything without hurting the ones he loved. If he spoke out in defense of the memory of those gone, he was somehow in the wrong. If he kept silent, he wasn’t honoring them. Anything that he did was wrong. Why can’t I ever do anything right?
Heading to his kitchen, he took out all the bottles of alcohol and laid them out on his table, opening them up one by one. He had always been an advocate for responsible drinking — but maybe, maybe just for tonight, he could let down all defenses. He was alone, after all. He turned off his phone and threw it carelessly on the sofa. For one night, he needed peace from social media. No one would message him now anyway.
Heechul drank until he lost count and his vision blurred, and the familiar dull edge of alcohol took over his consciousness and numbed the pain. The bottles were cool against his hand, and the alcohol made him forget, just for a minute, that he was in the middle of a brewing storm. He cried until his eyes were swollen, opening and downing bottle after bottle until he reached the last one, eyeing it dizzily before slumping down unconscious on the table, hitting his head on the hard surface. The open bottle cracked open in his hand, falling from table to floor, shattering, the liquor forming a puddle underneath his red chair.
Leeteuk took a deep breath and stared at Heechul’s door, contemplating ringing the doorbell or just trying the code he knew. He rang the doorbell first, nervously, and waited for about five minutes.
“He’s asleep, Jungsoo, you worried eomma,” Leeteuk whispered anxiously to himself while trying to call Heechul. No matter how he tried to dissuade himself, to convince himself that Heechul was fine, the worried feeling in his heart and mind wouldn’t go away, pulling him like a magnet to Heechul’s door. No answer to his phone call, not even ringing.
Worried senses now at their full height, Leeteuk punched in the code before he could stop himself, pushing the door open gingerly as it unlocked.
“Heechul-ah?” Leeteuk called out gently, increasing in volume when he got no answer. “Heechul-ah? Heechul-ah? Heechul-ah? Biyenada, I tried calling you and you wouldn’t pick up, and I was a bit worried, so…” Leeteuk rambled to announce his presence, rounding the corner, smelling the telltale stench of alcohol, and finally finding his friend slumped over his table.
“Heechul-ah!” Leeteuk frantically rushed to his friend’s side, taking note of the empty bottles on the table. “Heechul-ah! Yah, wake up!” the leader begged, slapping his friend across the face. Heechul’s head turned, and Leeteuk winced at the size of the bump and bruise already formed. “Yah, pabo…Heechul-ah. Heechul-ah, please, wake up for me!” Alarmed, Leeteuk finally saw the blood oozing from his friend’s palm, cut from the shattered bottle, shards now scattered across the floor.
“Heechul-ah! HEECHUL-AH!” Leeteuk was shouting now, desperately shaking his friend and feeling for a pulse. He scrambled for his phone and scrolled for the emergency number, about to call an ambulance.
“Mmmhh…Teukkie?” Heechul finally responded, opening his heavy eyelids. His friend’s shouting cut through the fog in his head, pulling him from the sweet sweet oblivion. “Stop shouting,” he slurred, waving his hands around.
Leeteuk sighed in relief. “Yah, pabo, I’m calling an ambulance,” Leeteuk said, already calling the number and putting his phone to his ear.
Immediately, Heechul tried to sit up, alarmed. He tried to focus, just for a minute, just to stop his friend. “No…no ambulance…no hospital…” “You’re bleeding!” Leeteuk retorted, wondering why it was taking so long for the emergency medical services to pick up.
With herculean effort, Heechul reached up towards his friend, grasping Leeteuk’s wrist gently, pulling the phone down and away from Leeteuk’s ear, looking at his friend through half-lidded eyes. “No…hospital…public…rumors…comments…”
Leeteuk was struck silent. The hurt and emptiness in his friend’s eyes scared him. Suddenly, he understood. Of course. Of course, even now, his friend couldn’t even go to the hospital without getting some kind of malicious comment. Anger surged up within him at the unfairness of it all, but he ended the call just as the operator came on the line. Irrational protectiveness overwhelmed him — with all the hate comments and even threats that he had seen earlier, somehow he didn’t even want Heechul out of his sight. Not now, not tonight.
“Okay, Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk said gently, clicking off his phone. “No hospital. But how much did you drink?” he asked worriedly, surveying the mess of bottles on the table and checking them one by one for alcohol content.
“Not much,” Heechul slurred. “Used to it.”
“Enough to pass out?” Leeteuk asked wryly, but he got no reply. Heechul had slumped back over the table. Checking his friend again and satisfied that he was at least breathing, Leeteuk dialed another number. After two rings, the person he called picked up.
“Hyung?”
“Kyuhyun-ah,” Leeteuk said, relieved. “Sorry for calling so late.” “It’s fine, hyung, I just finished gaming. What’s up?”
“I have a question,” Leeteuk continued worriedly. “What’s Heechul’s usual limit of alcohol?”
“Heechul-hyung?” Kyuhyun repeated, obviously curious. “Why?”
“Just tell me,” Leeteuk said tersely, and Kyuhyun did. Checking the bottles on the table and doing some quick math in his head, Leeteuk concluded that it was indeed Heechul’s limit. Close, but the stress and exhaustion he was under was probably part of why he passed out.
“Thanks, Kyuhyun-ah. I’m hanging up,” Leeteuk said, but not before his member said “hyung? please take care of him.” Leeteuk paused, grateful for his younger brother’s understanding.
“You know I will, Kyuhyun-ah. See you soon.” “Bye, hyung.”
Leeteuk ended the call and kept his phone, surveying his friend slumped over the table. He had to monitor him in case of any excessive alcohol effects, but overall he knew Heechul just had to sleep it off.
He pulled his friend’s arm up and over his shoulder, wrapping another arm around Heechul’s waist. “Bed, Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk prompted, lifting up his friend’s dead weight.
“Mmmmpf,” Heechul groaned, uncoordinated limbs flopping everywhere. Leeteuk grimaced as his friend’s socked feet stepped in the puddle of alcohol below his chair. “We have to clean you up.”
“Sofa,” Heechul slurred. “Your bed’s more comfortable,” Leeteuk said, but Heechul just shook his head and said, “night…mares…” and Leeteuk’s heart clenched. Obliging, he dragged his friend to the sofa where Heechul collapsed. Leeteuk checked him and made sure he was in a position to breathe properly, flipping Heechul around so that he was lying on his back, head propped up on a pillow.
“Clothes,” Leeteuk nudged his friend. “Where can I get you socks and another hoodie?” The mixed stench of blood and alcohol was already making his own head ache.
“Drawerrr,” Heechul exhaled, clenching his eyes shut. Leeteuk made his way to his friend’s bedroom, going through the drawers until he found another pair of socks and a soft hoodie that looked like pajamas.
“Heechul-ah,” Leetuk nudged his friend awake again. “Change.”
“Don’t wanna,” Heechul said, turning away.
“Yah. Change or I’ll do it for you,” Leeteuk said strictly, heading to the bathroom to find a first-aid kit. Hearing that, Heechul groaned and pulled himself up, lazily and slowly toeing off his alcohol-soaked socks and putting new ones on, poking his head through the hoodie and struggling through the arm holes.
He flopped back down on the sofa, utterly exhausted. “I’m tired, Teukkie.”
“I know,” Leeteuk said, coming back with the first-aid kit, a cold compress, and a cup of water. “Close your eyes and try to sleep. Let me just fix this.”
Leeteuk gently dabbed disinfectant onto the (thankfully) shallow wound, going more gently when Heechul hissed and drew his hand away. “Sorry,” Leeteuk apologized, grabbing his friend’s wrist and holding his hand still as he finished disinfecting and applied ointment to the palm, finally wrapping a gauze bandage around his friend’s hand. Heechul watched him through half-lidded eyes, wondering if this was real, if Teukkie…Jungsoo, was really here.
Leeteuk finished with his ministrations and put down his friend’s bandaged hand gently, this time reaching up to apply the cold compress onto his friend’s bump on the head, studiously avoiding Heechul’s eyes.
“Ow.” Heechul murmured, as Leeteuk pressed the cold compress against his head and secured it in place. “Sorry,” Leeteuk said again. “You hit your head pretty hard.”
Grasping the cup of water, Leeteuk held it out to his friend. “Drink.” Heechul groaned, pushing himself up a bit to reach the glass. Carefully, Leeteuk put the cup to his lips and made sure there was no spilling, until Heechul had emptied the cup.
“…Thanks, Jungsoo-yah,” Heechul said, wiping his mouth, his head clearing for a moment as he looked at his friend kneeling beside him, taking care of him, making sure he was okay. He felt almost embarrassed.
“You’re lucky I came in when I did,” his leader said fondly, worriedly, and Heechul almost couldn’t take the soft emotion radiating in his friend’s eyes. They weren’t affectionate at all, they were friends but didn’t say so, they knew each other best but hardly saw each other — and yet, this. Here. Now. Jungsoo felt calm, and warm, and safe. If he was sober, Heechul would probably shout and yell all the sappiness away, crack a joke to go back to normal — but he couldn’t. Not now.
The lump in his throat stopped him from replying, and Heechul could only squeeze his friend’s hand in reply. Thankfully, that would be enough.
“Sleep, Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk said, standing up.
“Jungsoo-yah,” Heechul said suddenly, an irrational panic rising up in his chest, grasping desperately at his friend’s wrist.
Leeteuk looked at him again, and Heechul was sure he was going to cry if his friend kept on looking at him like that. Instead, his leader just smiled slightly and wrapped a warm hand around Heechul’s cold fingers. “I’m not going anywhere, Heechul-ah, but someone needs to clean up first. I’ll be here, okay?”
“…Okay,” Heechul said, the alcohol and exhaustion pulling him under again. He let go and closed his eyes, and let the darkness pull him under.
Leeteuk stayed by his friend’s side until he was asleep, checking his breathing and making sure he was comfortable. Sighing, he stayed there a while longer to assuage his own worries, taking note of his friend’s tense body and furrowed eyebrows, even in sleep. He spied his friend’s phone peeking out from between the cushions and pulled it out, satisfied to see it was turned off.
“Heechul-ah…” Leeteuk whispered sadly, stroking his friend’s uninjured hand. It hurt, whenever any of his members was being hurt, whether online or in real life. If he could, he would trade places with them in a heartbeat. He had watched over far too many hospital beds, watched over too many trending hashtags for his heart to take. Heechul was always the hardest to take care of; they were the same age, so Heechul would usually refuse his help. Heechul had been the first to venture on to the variety scene, always the first, the bravest, that Leeteuk could only watch most of the time as his friend took the industry by storm. And yet, the comments came. They always did. Heechul had always waved them off with his usual bravado, even when Leeteuk himself became concerned. But now — now it seemed too much, even for Kim Heechul.
“Don’t worry, Heechul-ah…we’ll figure this out,” Leeteuk murmured, finally letting go of his friend’s hand, still worried that his friend looked tense and stressed, even in sleep. “I promise you, we’ll figure this out. Together.”
It was time to clean. Leeteuk picked up his friend’s discarded clothes and started the laundry machine, shutting the door to the laundry room so that its noise wouldn’t wake his friend. The stench of alcohol was now overwhelming, and Leeteuk hurriedly brought out the mop, wiping up the puddle of liquor. He swept up the broken pieces of glass and dumped the debris in the garbage. With that done, he gathered all the bottles and took out the trash, wiping the table clean. Opening the windows a bit and spraying some air freshener, he turned off as many lights as he could, making sure that his friend wouldn’t be struck by harsh lighting, and he went over to check on Heechul again.
Taking off the cold compress, he was relieved to find that the bump had gone down fast, and the bruise would hopefully disappear soon. But Heechul’s eyebrows were still furrowed, and his fists were clenched, even in sleep. Tears were slowly leaking out from his eyes. His breathing seemed uncomfortable, and Leeteuk slowly nudged him awake.
“Heechul-ah. Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk called gently, repeating until he finally saw his friend’s eyes open, bloodshot and swollen from crying. “Just checking,” Leeteuk said gently.
“Jungsoo-yah…” Heechul whispered, voice strained. “Mm. It’s me,” Leeteuk said, doing his best to reassure. “Go back to sleep.”
Heechul nodded and closed his eyes, hand reaching for Leeteuk until he found him, fingers clutching at the corner of his friend’s shirt with a death grip. Leeteuk watched him do this with a sad smile on his face, untangling the wayward hand from his shirt and holding it in his own instead. Heechul’s cold hand immediately curled around his own, seeking warmth.
“Are you going to hold my hand the whole night?” Leeteuk asked teasingly, a fond smile on his face. Even with how long they had known each other, moments of vulnerability between the two of them were few and far between.
But Heechul didn’t answer, and Leeteuk assumed his friend was asleep. He slowly slid down the sofa and leaned against it, settling down for his night of watching over his friend.
Around an hour later, Leeteuk had dozed off but was jerked awake by Heechul’s sudden movements on the couch. His friend was suddenly clenching his fist and banging it against the cushions, anguished sounds coming out of his throat. “No…no…please…no…” Heechul begged in his sleep, and it broke Leeteuk’s heart to hear. His friend’s cries escalated until they felt like anguished screaming, and Leeteuk had had enough.
“Heechul-ah…Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk called, shaking his friend’s shoulder. “Heechul-ah, wake up,” he said gently, shaking even more vigorously when his friend failed to wake. A slight sheen of sweat had formed on his friend’s forehead, and the tears had started again, marking trails down his cheeks. Heechul’s hand gripping onto Leeteuk held on even tighter, until Leeteuk felt like his bones would break. “Heechul-ah!” Leeteuk said firmly, shaking his friend awake. “Wake up!”
Heechul’s eyes snapped open, and Leeteuk waited for the fog of confusion to clear. Heechul felt like he was trapped in his nightmare, and for a few seconds, the reality and his dream blurred together, his breathing coming fast. Only Jungsoo’s voice cut through the fog, and Heechul finally forced himself to wake, shaking his head until the ghosts of his nightmare faded and the only thing he could see was Jungsoo’s concerned face staring at him.
Heechul groaned and sat up, bringing up his knees and curling into himself, burying his head in his arms. For the first time in an hour, he let go of his friend’s hand.
Leeteuk watched him worriedly, unsure what to do. He hovered at a distance, eventually choosing to sit next to his friend, inching closer and closer when it seemed Heechul didn’t mind. His friend’s body was shaking from repressed sobs, and Leeteuk’s heart broke more and more as each sob broke the silence in the room. He couldn’t just watch any more.
Closer, closer, closer, until he was sitting beside Heechul, feeling the body heat radiating from his friend. Laying a cautious hand on his friend’s shoulder, Leeteuk finally spoke. “Do you want to talk about it?” he whispered, getting a shaking head in response. Heechul had yet to look up, but the sobs had quieted.
Heechul was lost. The dream was his worst fears realized, losing everything and everyone he had, because of his actions and decisions. The certainty and bravery he had a few days ago was gone, replaced with a gut-wrenching anxiety and loneliness. He buried his head in his arms and tried to breathe, to get himself under control, faintly aware of Jungsoo sitting closer and closer.
No, he didn’t want to talk about it, but there was one thing he did need. Jungsoo’s hand on his shoulder felt like a lifeline, like the only thing he could be sure of. Without thinking, Heechul uncurled and leaned into his friend, putting his head on his Jungsoo’s chest and tucking himself into his friend’s warmth.
Leeteuk was startled at first. This was not the kind of thing they did — they weren’t like their dongsaengs, whose affection and hugs were easy and freely-given. Neither of them found hugs easy, although they would give them to their members as needed. To each other? Rarely. Maybe even never.
But there was something simple and right about how Leeteuk’s open arm immediately wrapped around Heechul, gripping his opposite shoulder in a reassuring hold. Slowly, slowly, Leeteuk brought up his other arm, circling his friend with all the love he had to give. Angled away from him, Leeteuk couldn’t see his friend’s face, but he could hear his breathing slow and his body relax slightly.
Their awkwardness was now the furthest thing from Heechul’s mind. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to breathe. His friend’s scent filled his nostrils, like fresh laundry detergent and the faint lemony smell of cleaner. It helped clear his mind, and he felt his friend’s arms wrap around him slowly, the safest place in the world.
The tears dried on his face, and before he knew it, Heechul was drifting back to sleep.
Leeteuk held his friend firmly and felt his body go slack, relieved as he checked on his friend and found him fully asleep once more. Arms still firm and gentle around his friend, Leeteuk reached for a folded blanket he had brought out earlier, spreading it with one hand over his friend’s curled-up body. He leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes, the comforting weight of Heechul on his chest.
Heechul woke after several hours, his sleep now dreamless, his exhaustion marginally better, but the pounding headache of a hangover was now making itself known. He sat up and groaned, rubbing the base of his skull as the hammering went on mercilessly. His curtains were still drawn, so he had no way of knowing if it was day or night, and he was still on the couch, a soft blanket thrown over him.
He felt the soft bandage on his hand and closed his fist experimentally, wincing when it stung. Getting up, he folded the blanket and set it aside, standing up slowly and turning around, suddenly struck by the sight of someone in his kitchen.
Leeteuk was at the stove, turning around when he heard noises of Heechul waking up. “Good morning,” the leader said, glancing back to see his member looking at him. Heechul had stumbled forward and sat at the kitchen table, head in his hands as he tried to remember what had happened last night. He had gone live on Heetube, ended it…had a few drinks…and then Teukkie…oh.
Suddenly blushing, Heechul didn’t know what to say. “Were…were you here all night?” he ventured, cringing inwardly as he realized how it sounded.
Leeteuk didn’t turn back, but he answered with a smile, a teasing note in his voice. “Don’t ask me that, I sound like your girlfriend,” Leeteuk grinned, turning around and looking at friend. Despite himself, a chuckle escaped from Heechul. “Pabo,” Heechul scoffed back, an easy smile on his face. Leeteuk rejoiced to see it, a far cry from the grimace of pain he had seen on his friend the night before.
Leeteuk turned off the stove and poured the contents of the pot into two separate bowls, carrying both of them over to the table and sitting opposite Heechul. “Haejang-guk,” he said, putting a spoon in Heechul’s uninjured hand. “Eat.”
“Deh, eomma,” Heechul said, tasting the soup. The spice and warmth helped with the hangover, and the two of them ate in silence.
“…thanks,” Heechul said finally, when his spoon hit the bottom of the bowl. “Where’d you get the ingredients? There’s nothing to cook in my kitchen.”
“I know,” Leeteuk rolled his eyes. “I went back to my place. You owe me.”
“Send me the bill,” Heechul said, slipping easily into their back-and-forth.
“I’d rather not. Looks like you’ll be paying for a lot of bills in the coming months,” Leeteuk said smoothly, eyeing his friend carefully.
“Ah.” Well, to be fair, Heechul thought, his friend had held out long enough. “You want to talk about that now?” Leeteuk was silent, stirring his soup.
“Is that why you’re here? To scold? Because believe me, Jungsoo-yah, I’ve had enough of that in the last week,” Heechul said bitingly, throwing up his walls immediately. He was hurt and yet confused. He didn’t want his leader involved, but he needed his friend. He needed his fellow 83-liner to say it was okay — but Leeteuk, to Heechul’s frustration, had always been a rule-follower. And Heechul was breaking so many rules, unspoken or otherwise.
Leeteuk was still silent, eyes on his soup. How could he let Heechul know that he was here as his friend, that he agreed, that he would support him, that there was nothing the two of them couldn’t do if they did it together? Any misstep and his friend would explode, and Leeteuk knew the aftermath wouldn’t be pretty. He had to take time, had to take care with his words, had to…
Heechul scoffed, standing up from the table and looking for his phone, finding it on the sofa and turning it on. Silence reigned in the apartment as Leeteuk watched his friend sadly, unsure of what to do.
Heechul ran his hand through his hair in frustration as his phone came on, and with it a barrage of notifications from his SNS, his family, the company, his lawyer, the trending news, and more. The ringing noises of his phone sounded like a fire alarm. Heechul could hardly keep up as he scrolled through his apps, mentally marking which messages were most important and which could wait until later, but it was all coming too fast. Eventually he gave up and left his phone on the table, leaning back into the sofa and closing his eyes, taking a deep breath before he could plunge in again. He didn’t even know if Jungsoo was still there or if he had left a long time before. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Watching him from the table, Leeteuk finally knew what to do. He swiftly walked to the sofa and picked up Heechul’s phone, bringing out his own, sitting on the opposite side of the sofa from Heechul.
“Yah, what are you doing?” Heechul said, eyes still closed. Maybe if he would ignore the world, it would just go away. Leeteuk stayed quiet, going through Heechul’s phone, forwarding and deleting messages. When he didn’t answer, Heechul finally opened his eyes, snatching his phone back. To his surprise, all his messages had been sorted, the ones from the company gone, the less important ones from SNS already archived. The only ones he had left were from his lawyer.
“What did…”
“Forwarded all the company’s messages to my phone,” Leeteuk finally replied, thumbs rapidly moving as he texted and replied, addressing all the company concerns. Heechul watched him, dumbfounded. “You can do that?”
“I’m your leader, Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk said softly, looking at his friend. “You’re my responsibility too.”
Indignant anger flared up in Heechul but disappeared in an instant, his bravado deflated. Heechul ducked his head. “I’m sorry…I’m not one of the kids for you to look after…I—I…”
“You’re my friend,” Leeteuk just said simply, as if that resolved all of it. “We look after our friends, right?,” he said, continuing his work and sending emails, not noticing the way Heechul looked at him. Heechul was grateful, and embarrassed, and reassured, all at the same time.
“Done,” Leeteuk said, clicking off his phone. “I told them they could approach me if they had any future concerns.”
Heechul swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”
Leeteuk just looked at him. “Heechul-ah…I may not know exactly what you’re going through, and I know we haven’t exactly been the close friends we should be…but…you know I’m always here, right? For anything. If…if you need me.”
Heechul scooted closer, ignoring every awkward feeling he had and laying his head on Leeteuk’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered, and he felt his friend smile.
“You’re clingy nowadays, Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk said fondly, bringing an arm up again over Heechul’s shoulders. If he was being honest, this was new territory for him too.
Heechul snorted and got up immediately, pushing Leeteuk away. “Must be age,” he said, the two of them settling into the sofa beside each other, unconsciously leaning towards each other, sitting in comfortable silence.
“Last year, after—after everything, I had to talk with Dong Yup-hyung. I wanted to take a break, even if only for a little while. It was hard, hearing their names being used,” Heechul said softly. “It felt disrespectful…online or offline. I couldn’t understand the hate…I learned to ignore it, but…” he trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes. Leeteuk understood.
“I know. I watched your show,” Leeteuk said slowly.
“Can I tell you something?” Leeteuk said, and Heechul turned towards him. “I wanted to take a break too. Last year.”
“I know. I watched your live,” Heechul said immediately, and the two of them looked at each other and just laughed. At each other, and at the ridiculousness of the lives they lead, and the friendship they have.
“Remember when my abeoji…and then you visited me in the army?” Leeteuk said, reminiscing. “Mm,” Heechul said, remembering.
“You told me things then that helped me get through it. Heechul-ah…it’s my turn,” Leeteuk said earnestly. “Let me go through this with you, ok? You’re not alone.”
Heechul took a deep breath, finally hearing the words that he desperately needed to hear. “Thanks, Jungsoo-yah.”
Leeteuk just smiled in response. “How’s your head?”
“Still hurts,” Heechul answered, wincing and leaning back on the sofa cushions.
“You did hit it pretty hard, and the hangover’s probably not helping,” Leeteuk said sympathetically, gentle fingers touching the tender bruise on Heechul’s forehead. Heechul let him, wondering when this had become so easy, when the “awkwardness” they professed had just melted away.
“I have no idea what time it is,” Heechul said suddenly, groaning as he attempted to sit up straight. “I’ll probably have to get going to the studio soon, if I’m not already late.”
“Sit down,” Leeteuk admonished, pushing his friend back down on the couch. Heechul followed, looking at his friend, surprised. “What?”
“I called ahead. You have a free day,” Leeteuk admitted. “You need it, Heechul-ah.”
“What? What did you say?” his friend asked, shocked. He never had a free day. Leeteuk just shrugged. “Told them we had a Super Junior emergency meeting.”
“They’ll never believe that! They’ll just call SM to find out —“
“I handled it, Heechul-ah.” Leeteuk said confidently, shutting up his friend.
“And don’t even think about saying sorry again,” Leeteuk continued, before his friend could say it. “I’m the Super Junior leader, you’re a Super Junior member, we’re having a meeting right now. Done.”
Heechul just stared at his friend incredulously and finally laughed. “Okay, okay, Jungsoo-yah. We’re having a meeting.”
Relieved at the prospect of a full day, Heechul breathes in and out, looking at his ceiling as he leans back on the sofa. “It never stops, does it, Teukkie?”
Leeteuk doesn’t have to ask. He knows. “No,” Leeteuk admits. “It doesn’t. Not for this kind of life, anyway.” Tomorrow, both of them will have to go back to the celebrity world, living under a microscope, their whole life stripped bare for the world to watch, the price to pay for doing what they both love. How painful to have what you love the most and yet suffer under its hand.
“But you know what,” Leeteuk said slowly. “We can stop. We can always take a break.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “We always have a choice. No matter how much of a public life we lead, we always have a choice,” Leeteuk stated, turning to look at his friend. “You taught me that.”
Heechul closed his eyes. “Choices are dangerous.”
“Maybe,” Leeteuk answered. “But maybe that’s just it, Heechul-ah. There are no perfect choices — we make the best ones we can, we do the most good we can, and just try to live as best we can. We can’t live being careful of everything and everyone.”
Heechul snorted. “You sound familiar.”
“Of course I do. You taught me that too,” Leeteuk laughed. “You were right. It’s harder than it sounds, you know.
“I know now,” Heechul sighed, turning to look back at his friend. How many times had he teased his leader for being the exact same person that he was being now — too careful, overthinking everything, dwelling on the pressure of the unknown future? “I’m sorry.”
Leeteuk just shook his head. “No need. You know, since you pushed me so much, I learned one thing about making my own choices.”
“What?”
“It’s easier when you’re not alone,” Leeteuk said. It was slightly cringey, yes, but it was true. “You’re doing the right thing, Heechul-ah,” Leeteuk continued slowly. “Even I don’t know how this will end up, but I know you’re doing the right thing. Maybe you needed someone to tell you that. You have me, you have Super Junior. It’s going to be hard, but you’re not alone.”
Unbidden, tears came again to Heechul’s eyes. He brushed them away rapidly, looking away from Leeteuk, biting his lip to keep the sobs in his throat from escaping. He did need to hear that, desperately. To hear that he wasn’t alone, that he was doing something right, that there would be something – someone — to come back to when this was all over. The careening train slowed, and for the first time, Heechul felt that there might be an actual destination.
“I overdid it again, didn’t I?” Leeteuk asked from beside him, and Heechul knew instinctively what his friend was trying to do, recognized the slight broadcast teasing tone in his voice.
“Maybe a bit,” he retorted back, taking a deep breath and getting himself under control before turning back to look at his friend. “That was way too cheesy…oh!” He was immediately taken aback by Leeteuk surging forward to hug him, closer than they had ever been since they were trainees. He got over his initial shock quickly and sank into the embrace, burying his face into his Jungsoo’s shoulder. If his friend felt his tears dampen his shirt, he didn’t say anything.
Leeteuk held his friend there for a few moments, stretching out into a comfortable silence as Heechul allowed himself to cry again, to finally release the intense pain and pressure that the storm had built up inside him. He wasn’t alone, he was understood, he was doing something right — he was relieved.
Leeteuk rubbed comforting circles in his friend’s back, grateful that he could be here, grateful that he could be this anchor for Heechul. Tomorrow, maybe they would go back to watching each other’s Youtube — but today, they were together. It was enough. Leeteuk wouldn’t let go until Heechul had put himself together — until then, Leeteuk would gladly pick up his friend’s broken pieces.
Heechul eventually pulled back, all cried out, the pressure on his heart much lighter. He rubbed his swollen eyes gingerly, slightly ready to go back to some normalcy after crying for a whole night and day. “Yah, you’re the clingy one, not me!” he snorted.
“Must be age,” Leeteuk shot back, a mirror conversation. Of course it was age — the two of them had known each other for almost more than half their lifetimes. Heechul chuckled, a real smile breaking across his face.
On the table, their phones both started beeping, signaling the world that wouldn’t stop turning. Both of them looked at the phones and then at each other, hesitantly at first, until mischievous small grins spread across both their faces.
“I think that can wait for a while longer,” Leeteuk ventured, and Heechul nodded. “I’m hungry,” he said, taking his phone and switching it to silent mode. Leeteuk did the same.
“Let’s go then,” the leader said, standing up quickly. “Where?” Heechul asked, suddenly curious.
“Back to my place,” Leeteuk said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Wae?” Heechul asked again, but standing up and following Leeteuk as he made his way out of the apartment.
“You have no ingredients here and your stove’s terrible,” Leeteuk said, putting on his slippers and opening the door. “I’m not cooking our lunch in there.”
Heechul laughed. “I’ll have you know I’m learning a lot of things on my variety show,” he declared, following Leeteuk out into the corridor and into the elevator.
Leeteuk just rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen what you learned on the show. Maybe I’ll let you slice and chop and wash the dishes after, but there is no way I’m letting you near the stove.” Heechul chuckled again, not missing the subtle hint that his leader always watched his shows. He smiled, despite his red and swollen eyes and aching head. “Fine by me. What are you cooking?”
“You’ll eat what I give you and you’ll like it,” Leeteuk retorted, opening his own apartment door, and it was Heechul’s turn to roll his eyes. “Deh, eomma,” he said in a singsong voice, entering Leeteuk’s apartment and immediately kicking off his slippers.
They had kimchi fried rice for lunch, and when Leeteuk prepared it exactly the way Heechul liked it, Heechul ate two whole servings. When they ate in front of the TV and Leeteuk tensely monitored his own show where he was the MC, Heechul said nothing but praises and laughed at all his leader’s jokes. And on the kitchen table, forgotten for now, were their phones, blissfully put on silent mode.
Tomorrow, they would pick them up again and go confront the world. But tomorrow, they would do it together.