It started with a little crack on the wayy that both had decided to ignore. Itâs just a small crack, what damage could it do? But as years past, the little crack grew bigger and bigger; overtaking the whole wall, until it became impossible to overlook. Such was the relationship between Seungmin and Haejun.
How it started, how it all began, perhaps neither could pinpoint exactly the time or the cause of it all. It started from something so tiny ââ a change in both people, mannerism in which they dealt with their own problems, attacks that had, in some way, altered how their mind worked and how they presented themselves in the society. A change in their passion, a change in the lenses through which they saw the world.
People changed, Haejun always said. They changed.
He scoffed and looked away from Seungmin; his smile wasnât one of spun dreams and charms like the one he put on for fans, it was a cruel one, so cruel. Maybe itâs the only way kim Haejun could truly smile. âMaybe? Because anyway between us two, arenât I the only one taking care of shit?â Or the one who cared. Seungmin used to. Notice the past tense.
There was frost in his eyes and frost in his tone, he was not the kind who burned with anger ââ that much was obvious. But then he gave a sigh and let himself cooled down (was such a term even appropriate when heâs nothing but ice in his rage?), as he sensed the tension that settled in the room, and the clear discomfort that was expressed through a cough by the sound engineer. âIf you donât wanna do it, just quit ââ but donât do such a half-assed job.â
Seungmin takes a heavy drag from his cigarette, then soothes his burning throat with clear, premium, banana milk. Haejun isnât happy; but whatâs else is new? He listens to him complain and punctuates it with another hit of nicotine. That addicted portion of his brain clicks and like a breath of fresh air, he feels the rising calm. He snuffs his cigarette on the ash tray, leaving it half-finished.Â
He predicts that Haejun is staring at him with an expression that betrays his princely image, replacing it with a vengeful, draconian devil. Being right isnât satisfying, because although he can manage an unaffected facade, inside heâs feeling bitterness and frustration. He wants to yell at him to leave if heâs so bothered by him, but he knows that Haejunâs anger is his fault and that he only acts this way because he cares. Somehow, he still can after everything theyâve been through. Seungmin runs a hand through his hair, and tilts his head. He keeps all of these thoughts to himself, and then bites out a reply.Â
âYeah, Iâll just quitâ he rejoins sarcastically, âThen Iâll retire to planet Saturn and buy a loft.â Seungmin tosses his empty milk carton in the trash and stands to meet Haejun, finding his eyes from his spot across the room. It makes him freeze for a moment, the chill of regret sinking into him. This isnât what he envisioned for himself when they first debuted, but he dug his own grave and had to lay in it.Â
â...Fine,â he agrees finally, filled with petulance. He walks back to the recording jail, and in passing Haejun his comment slips out before he can think about it, âjust stop complaining already.âÂ
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