Chapter Text
Jonghyun shivered in his seat, the cold air of the van’s AC striking his arm and inciting goose bumps. He tucked it against his chest and leaned his head resting the window. The glass vibrated it, and he winced as they hit a larger bump on the road.
A shoulder to rest on would’ve been great right then, but he was sitting in the middle row of their van, not in the far back. Dongho was straight across from him, and Minki and Aaron were in the far back, the seat between them left empty.
Jonghyun’s heart sank with that thought, and he bumped his head against the window to force it away. This wasn’t the time. They were promoting Dejavu, and they had a good shot at winning with it. Nu’est W was the group risen from the ashes, not the one that lingered on the past.
(Even though their song was literally called Dejavu, and well, okay, that was really ironic.)
Jonghyun huffed, faint amusement rising in him only to drip away as quickly as it came.
The mood was too somber, and they all knew it. Everyone was sleeping, as usual because promotions always meant grabbing any sleep they could get along the way, but soon they’d be hustled into pre-recording and preparations. They’d get little time to talk and would likely fill that with a V-Live anyway.
Would a better leader have stepped in earlier? Would they have given some sort of pep talk, something to inspire? Jonghyun didn’t know, but he tried not to linger there either. If he’d learned anything in the past year or so, it was that mythical good leaders never did anything real. He was the one who had to change things if he wanted to change them.
Still, he wouldn’t say anything. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he didn’t have any helpful words and couldn’t take the look everyone would get if he brought it up. Jonghyun swallowed, and it pulled a slight cough out of him.
A negligible one, really. Most wouldn’t even call it a cough, but it affected him all the same. Jonghyun’s lips trembled, and he had to press them together until they stung before they stopped.
This was bad. It was really bad.
He’d taken cough medicine earlier, spurred on by the others, who’d heard him coughing for a couple weeks now. Jonghyun had done everything he could to hide it, but even some of the fans had picked up on it. He’d had ‘get better soon’s sent to him all over social media.
Normally he’d be touched by their well-wishing, but now—now, he didn’t know what to do, what to think, even.
Secrets made things complicated. That was another thing he’d learned in the past year. Jonghyun sighed and closed his eyes again. He was so tired. His cough had forced him awake in the too few hours they were allowed to sleep, and he’d spent much of it coughing over the toilet.
Jonghyun had never spit up so many petals at once before, and it left him shaking and light-headed and gasping. Even when it all faded, when the petals sat in his lungs and flushed down the toilet, none in-between, he hadn’t slept.
He was missing his chance now too, and he’d regret that later. Jonghyun put his arm against the window and dropped his head on it. The car remained silent, and the air continued to blow.
Minhyun would probably be singing right now, unless the constant performances stressed out his throat too badly. In that case, he’d be sipping tea and praying it would help. He always got fidgety before performances, exhausted to a stage where he couldn’t stop moving.
His breath stung his throat, and when he swallowed, it only got worse. Jonghyun clenched his jaw. Their manager always hounded Minhyun and Dongho about their throats, as they were most at risk. Aaron and Minki also got his attention whenever they had more lines.
Jonghyun supposed he was lucky he had fewer this time around. The less additional irritation to his throat the better, really. The whole spitting-up-petals thing hadn’t happened nearly as often when they’d promoted Where You At, but his throat had still hurt more than usual. Jonghyun bet this time would be the same.
Not long after he found a comfortable position, the van stopped. With a flurry of activity and slowly blinking eyes, they all roused each other and got out, panting in the humidity of the summer.
Pre-recording went by with ease, and Jonghyun smiled as he watched his members. He had never been all that hands-on about leading, but after six years, they all knew the process so well it would’ve been strange for him to even try to step in.
They passed Blackpink on their way to their dressing room, and Jonghyun greeted them, but he knew better than to try and engage in any type of conversation. They were both hurried in opposite directions, and soon enough their manager led them into the dressing room.
Jonghyun was on his phone, playing some game he hardly sees on the screen and doing as poorly as expected when Aaron dropped next to him. “Hey.” He gave him a fist bump. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Really?” Jonghyun couldn’t keep the surprise from raising his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized.
“Mm. Seems like there’s something on your mind.”
“Too much,” Jonghyun agreed. “But when isn’t there?”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out myself.”
As though to answer them, Minki let out a loud, offended squawk. Jonghyun turned around, but both he and Dongho were in the hallway. Aaron giggled, no doubt recognizing the irony of the timing as well as Jonghyun did. To add insult to injury, they could still hear Minki, clearly beginning to argue with Dongho about something.
Jonghyun could imagine Dongho’s exasperated look all too well. His lips twitched into a smile. He raised an eyebrow at Aaron. “We could go help, or—we could pretend we don’t hear anything?”
Aaron shoved Jonghyun, but it was soft enough that it barely nudged him. “Says the leader.”
“You’re the oldest. You could take responsibility.”
“I fulfill my duty by feeding all you.”
“You need to take on more.”
“I’m trying to have less on my mind.”
“By giving me more!”
“Kim Jonghyun!” He jumped to his feet, patting Aaron’s knee as a goodbye as he hurried into his seat for his hair and makeup. He could hear the door open as Minki and Dongho were called back inside for the same.
His stylist finished quickly, and Jonghyun thanked her before he ran off to change into his stage clothes. In the background, Aaron and Minki greeted the fans. They must’ve started a V-Live. Did that mean they still had a while until the performance? There were clocks around the room, but time always seemed wonky on days with big performances. It went fast and slow and never worked how it should to Jonghyun.
“JR!” Aaron called him, tilting the camera so the fans could see him.
He waved. “I have to change,” he said. “But I’ll be over soon.”
“Oh?” Minki’s voice took on a mischievous note, and he laughed. “The fans are saying you can do it now.”
He dropped his jaw and covered his face with his other hand, feeling it heat up. Jonghyun shook his head. “I’ll be over soon. Sorry!”
Minki gave him a thumbs up when the camera was flipped off him, and it only took a couple minutes to change into his stage outfit. He was the last to get dressed, though one of their stylists was still fiddling with Dongho’s hair.
Jonghyun leaned over the back of the couch, wrapping his arms over Minki, who didn’t bother to look up. “Reading comments?” he guessed.
“Mm. The fans say you’re very cute, but you still can’t take selcas well.”
“You couldn’t have left it at the ‘very cute?’”
“I’m just being honest. Oh, and they also asked if you’re still sick.”
Jonghyun winced, internally. “I’m all better now. Thank you for the messages!” If only his members would be so easy to placate, but he’d have to do a lot more to convince them he was no longer coughing. Especially considering he, you know, was still coughing.
The best option was falling out of love with whoever caused the flowers in his lungs. Jonghyun had literally no clue who it was—despite the quiet whispers in the back of his head because those definitely didn’t know what they were talking about.
Jonghyun loved a lot of people. It was his nature to feel strongly about the people closest to him, and his feelings towards them hadn’t changed when this happened (nearly a year ago, and oh gosh, time went quick and Jonghyun maybe-probably-definitely should’ve dealt with this long ago).
That meant it couldn’t be him, right? Jonghyun had loved him for a lot longer than a year…
A staff member interrupted his thoughts, calling out that they had ten minutes before they had to leave. Jonghyun smiled and joined Minki and Aaron in saying goodbye to the fans on V-Live.
“We’ll see you soon!” he promised.
--
He could’ve done better. Nothing went horribly wrong but it hadn’t gone horribly right either.
Jonghyun had hardly been able to breathe throughout it. The thought sent a tremor through him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to remind himself to calm the fuck down. They were on stage again, this time nominated to win.
He was mostly certain they wouldn’t. Jonghyun hadn’t seen Blackpink perform, but they’re good and consistent, and fuck, he must’ve looked so sloppy, out-of-breath and tired and definitely not making the choreography look as simple and effortless as he should’ve.
It was only logical that the flowers obstructing his lungs would cause other problems than only coughing, but—they hadn’t. Until now. Or okay, he’d been able to easily ignore it until now. But today—Jonghyun could’ve done better. They’d held him back.
“Nu’est W!” So far into his thoughts, Jonghyun barely caught the announcement. He blinked, half-poised to smile and clap for Blackpink still. Instead, they’re thrusted in front, and their fans erupted into cheers.
It was so loud. The award came from one side and a couple bouquets of flowers from the other. Jonghyun moved through syrup, only taking one of the bouquets when Dongho thrusted it into his hand.
Aaron held the award and—they won, they actually won.
Fuck, Jonghyun had to speak, didn’t he? His hand shook, and he tightened it around the microphone, only to nearly drop the flowers in his hand. Was he even smiling? Jonghyun took a deep breath and started to speak.
“I didn’t think we were going to win this.” Being humble was always good, right? “I was just thinking how we could’ve improved more, and how I made mistakes. But thank you… Thank you to—” And he rattled off the list of ‘thank you’s, some heartfelt—LOVEs, and the staff that helped them—some slightly bitter—their CEO.
Jonghyun listed the ‘thank you’s like he was used to saying them, as though the idea of them winning a music show two years ago hadn’t been laughable. At least he could fake it well.
Dongho shifted so their shoulders pressed together, and whoops, Jonghyun’s frazzled existence must’ve been obvious enough that he’d picked up on it. Hopefully the fans hadn’t. As he finished, Dongho raised his own microphone.
Jonghyun smiled as he spoke, talking about his dad and how much this meant to him. This was a good thing. Whether Jonghyun felt he deserved it or not, it was a good thing. His bandmates deserved it, after all.
Listening to Dongho talk, Jonghyun managed his first deep breath since they’d gotten on stage.
This was good. It was more than good. They’d won.
As Dejavu played in the background, fan chants loud in their ears, they jumped talk to talk, thanking and celebrating and finally throwing Minki into the air.
This was good.
By the time it ended, Jonghyun’s cheeks stung from his smiles. The makeup came off, they changed into more comfortable clothes, but the smile remained on their faces.
It wasn’t until they were in the van that Jonghyun’s phone vibrated. The breath whooshed out of him when he saw Minhyun’s name on the screen, and a giddy disbelief rushed over him.
He yelled for the others to be quiet and answered, immediately putting Minhyun on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Congrats! I just saw you won!” The connection was rough, and voices echoed in the background. Minhyun must also be in a car. Still, even the garbled, distorted voice set Jonghyun’s heart pounding. Fuck, this was everything he needed to make tonight perfect. He couldn’t help but grin at his phone.
Minhyun hadn’t had his phone during their last comeback; they’d all dealt with that whisper of betrayal in the back of their mind, the idea that maybe Minhyun would feel hurt by them winning without them.
“You did so well!”
Jonghyun’s heart wanted to burst. They all chorused ‘thank you’s and cheering, and at least a few of the Wanna One members joined in too. Were they on speaker? Jonghyun kind of hoped not. He liked the others and even called a couple friends, but he just wanted Minhyun right now.
Was that selfish? He didn’t care, not now. “Minhyun, how are you? You taking care of yourself?”
“I should be asking you that.” Minhyun laughed, and oh, Jonghyun had missed that sound, even if it wasn’t his annoying, high-pitched one. “You’re promoting, and I know what you think counts as a healthy diet.”
“Aaron’s got us covered. We’re even keeping the dorm in one piece, if you must know.”
“Yeah, Jonghyun found out we hardly ever need to do dishes if we just eat on paper plates,” Minki said. “No mess at all.”
Jonghyun laughed at Minhyun’s gasp. “It’s a good strategy.”
“I heard you won a watch for me too. Better be keeping it safe.” Minhyun’s voice was teasing, and Jonghyun’s mind flashed to the watch, carefully placed in its protective box and on his nightstand.
Dongho snorted. “He’s probably lost it already.”
“I’ve never taken it out of the dorm! It can’t be lost.” It was a little embarrassing that he knew exactly where it was, wasn’t it?
“You’ll get back here and find it in the fridge or something,” Aaron said.
“Shut up!” Despite Jonghyun’s false offense, happy tears burned in his eyes. He swallowed hard when his throat closed up. Fuck, he missed this. He missed Minhyun.
A voice in the background piped up, and Minhyun sighed. “I need to go soon,” he said. “But Jaehwan and the others want to congratulate you too.”
The background cheering started again, this time not drowned out by Minhyun’s. Jonghyun heard a couple calls of “Jonghyun hyung!” and the others’ names too.
They mostly yelled back as actual phone conversations between two groups of people rarely tended to be possible.
“We need to go,” Minhyun said, and Jonghyun could hear his smile. Could Minhyun hear his too? He hoped so. “But I wanted to call as soon as I heard! Congrats and rest well! Eat something good for me.”
“You too,” Jonghyun said. “All of you—get your rest and do well.” The tears streamed down his face, but Minki’s also teary-eyed, so Jonghyun couldn’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed. Not in front of his members, at least. Hopefully the connection wasn’t clear enough for Minhyun to hear it in his voice.
With a final goodbye, Minhyun hung up, and Jonghyun tightened his grip on his phone. His heart raced in his chest, blood pounding through his body, and nothing could possibly get him down right now.
Maybe later the memory would become hollow, would only make Jonghyun miss him worse, but for now, Jonghyun could only smile.
Nothing could get him down tonight.
--
Jonghyun loved a lot of people. He’s got love to spare, would take care of anyone who needed him. Or at least, that was what he said as he clicked the lock to the dorm bathroom, fingers fumbling around because his eyes can’t leave the multiple white clusters of flowers in his palm. It took him two tries to grab the doorknob.
They could mean anyone. He loved a lot of people. It didn’t matter what he was doing when he coughed, who he was thinking about.
The flowers’ shape was rather generic anyway; he squinted to try and work out some details, but latent tears from his coughing blurred his vision. Jonghyun had hoped the full shape would answer questions the tiny petals hadn’t.
This was the first time he’d ever seen an entire bloom. Or really, this was his first time seeing an entire cluster of blooms. They were about ten centimeters long, and both had at least twenty small, white flowers on them, arranged on every side.
A couple more floated in the otherwise clean toilet, fallen before his hand reflexively shot out to catch them. He’d expected a small shower of tiny petals, not four complete flowers. Jonghyun peered at his hand.
Did it really come from his lungs?
A faint tinge of pink touched the petals, and stamens poked out with proud pollen.
At least he didn’t have a pollen allergy, right? Right? Okay, no, bad joke. Jonghyun closed his fingers around the blooms and wrapped his arms around himself.
Trembles ran through his shoulders, but he ignored those. They were only a physical reaction to the coughing, after all.
It didn’t mean he was scared of the disease or how far it had progressed.
He’d known this day was coming for a long time.
Sweat dotted his forehead and wetted above his lip. His tongue darted out to rid it, and salt bloomed across his tongue. A shuddering breath racked his entire body. It pulled a single, weak cough out of him, and a tiny, tiny petal stuck to the roof of his mouth.
Jonghyun pressed his lips together. Stay in. Stay in. But the petal scraped down his throat when he swallowed. He coughed again.
The flowers were simple, unassuming, in contrast to their smell, which spread through the bathroom as though Jonghyun dumped perfume, not coughed himself hoarse.
It wasn’t…flowery. It was warm honey and root beer and sweet but not elegant? It wasn’t the type of scent he’d lean in carefully to sniff.
The smell broke him. Jonghyun crushed the flowers in his hand—they were warm, still wet, and that was gross but hey, so was coughing them up—and pressed that hand against his head. His breath choked in his throat, caught before it left his lungs.
How many were growing in there, right now? How far had the plant developed?
Jonghyun burned with questions and wilted without answers.
Except one. The only answer he didn’t want.
The smell wouldn’t leave him. It hung in the air, almost too strong with the blooms held so close to his face. A small twitch of his fingers sent the blooms tumbling into the toilet. They plopped without so much as a noise, let alone a splash.
He flushed the toilet. The smell didn’t fade.
Jonghyun might not have known from the flower alone. He might’ve been able to pretend, just like he has for the past ten months.
He loved a lot of people, after all.
But there had never been a question of who it was, only the denial of the answer.
The smell forced his hand. It was cloying, clingy and with a deep-rooted sweetness to it. Hard to ignore and comforting and annoying all at once.
Minhyun.
Even spoken purely in his thoughts, brought up from the whispers in the far back of his mind, the voice he had shut up for months made him whimper. Jonghyun sank to the ground, back sliding against a counter. His t-shirt caught on it and the cold tile against his bare skin left goosebumps rippling across his body.
“Dammit.” It came out as a hoarse whisper, but he repeated it louder, bashing his hand against the counter. The metal knob caught his palm, and he gasped. His fist clenched, and he cupped the other around it, held it to his chest and squeezed until the pain faded to manageable. His heartbeat pounded through his fingers.
He couldn’t let anyone know. It shouldn’t be hard—hell, Minhyun wasn’t even here; he was signed with Wanna One.
What would he do if he found out?
Jonghyun had no right to ruin Minhyun’s happiness.
Not when Minhyun had given up so much to get where he was. Dammit, he was out there being successful, and Jonghyun couldn’t ruin that for him. Jonghyun couldn’t make Minhyun even guiltier that he wasn’t with them, couldn’t take away his success from him.
What would he do if he found out?
Jonghyun didn’t want to know because he already did. The flowers in his lungs left no arguments; Minhyun didn’t love him like that.
The barest sting, faded and tired and nothing new, bounced around his chest as though his heart played pinball. Jonghyun had made his peace with Minhyun’s lack of romantic love towards him years ago.
For some ungodly reason, his lungs hadn’t gotten that message, and instead they’d sprouted seeds, created flowers with a warm scent and tiny petals.
He hadn’t yet controlled his breaths, and red marks from his nails marred his hands. Jonghyun pushed to his feet, and his head swooped. The corner of the sink saved him, and he flopped against it.
It was fine. This was fine.
He just wouldn’t tell anyone, and he’d get his head on fucking straight. What kind of leader was he, threatening their happiness like he was? They’d only just won, and here Jonghyun was, causing crises.
It’ll go away.
The same words he’d said for the past ten months. At first the petals came so rarely… He’d thought some miracle happened. His heart still squeezed every time he saw or thought about Minhyun, but surely he’d healed—
That changed with time. First once a week, then once a day, twice a day, three times—and now full flowers.
Had those dark bags under his eyes been there since morning? Or had they appeared with the flowers?
He didn’t want to see them. Jonghyun dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, and Minhyun’s face flashed behind his eyelids. Talking with him had been so amazing, no matter how brief a conversation it had been.
His heart had clearly not been paying attention to the situation, because it beat harder when Jonghyun thought of him.
Minhyun deserves everything without you ruining it, asshole.
Selfish, selfish asshole.
He clenched his jaw and shook his head hard enough to crack his neck. A knock interrupted him.
“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse. He cleared it.
“You okay?” It was Dongho.
Jonghyun’s throat dried before he could manage a solid ‘I’m good.’ As it was, it took him three tries before he could answer. “Not feeling well, but I’m fine.”
Jonghyun could almost feel him soften.
“You should get some sleep. We’ve got a long schedule tomorrow,” he said. “I can make you some tea for your throat, if you want.”
Of course they had another long schedule. For another week at least their lives would be suspended on stage, puppets moving on the mechanical strings they’d spent years building.
That sounded bitter. More bitter than he meant. Jonghyun loved being on stage; he was just tired.
Outside the bathroom, Dongho leaned against the wall. His frown deepened when Jonghyun opened the door. “Dude, you look awful.”
“Just need sleep,” Jonghyun said. “That’s all.”
“We all do.” Dongho rolled his eyes, and Jonghyun smiled at the grumpiness in his voice. There was a frantic excitement buried beneath it, the sense of frenzied nerves and frazzled happiness that pushed them all through exhaustion and into the life they live.
He was happy. They were all happy, and Jonghyun was too. There were flowers in the toilet—flowers in his lungs—but he was happy.
A giddy rush made him laugh, some final reservoir of energy finding its way into him. “I still can’t believe we won,” he said, shaking his head.
“Better believe it,” Dongho said. “We worked hard.”
Jonghyun hugged him, and it didn’t take much for Dongho to relax in his arms—part of Jonghyun appreciated that too, because it meant he wasn’t suspicious of him, even though he’d certainly heard his coughing.
The rest of him panged with guilt that he was manipulating his bandmates.
“Do you want tea?” he asked.
Jonghyun shook his head. “I’m okay, thank you.” Dongho looked like he was about to sleep standing up. “Goodnight.”
Jonghyun dreamt of Minhyun, in a vague, confusing way. He recalled little except Minhyun’s face the next morning, but it left him groggy, still somehow caught up in it. He didn’t think anything happened but normal stuff—going to music shows together, throwing an arm over his shoulder on stage.
That was the problem with him, really. When he thought of loving Minhyun, only some of his thoughts jumped to kisses and cuddling and things that made him flush. Most of them lingered on what they always did together but with new meaning.
Minhyun’s hand brushed over his. His head dropped to Jonghyun’s shoulder. Jonghyun pressed against him, taking strength from him, able to breathe in his scent and his assurances and know that everything was going to be okay—
Everything would be okay. That was all he wanted to know.
It hadn’t been too bad until those feelings decided to screw him over.