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Im moving to a new account^^ all old fics will be transferred there (I'll leave them here too) but all new material will be uploaded there as well

http://dongwtf.livejournal.com

Just Thought You Should Know

Myungsoo smiled fondly as he looked down at his boyfriend who was sleeping peacefully next to him. Even asleep, Dongwoo managed to keep his friendly, happy disposition, and the younger boy found it infectious. It was hard not to smile around him.
The other members of Infinite had all gone out for the day, leaving Myungsoo with the information that they wouldn't be back until after dinner. With this knowledge, the visual of the group had returned to his room to wake his partner to ask him what he wanted to do that day. Of course, the only reply he got was in the form of soft snores, and Myungsoo couldn't help but find that just the slightest bit endearing.
"Hyung..Dongwoo hyung..wake up." The younger said, prodding the sleeping boy with his foot.
The older didn't even so much as twitch.
"Hyung...get up. You've been asleep for twelve hours, how much sleep do you need?" Myungsoo whined, nudging him again.
Again, no response. Myungsoo sighed and slid his hands under Dongwoo's shirt, tickling his sides.
At this, Dongwoo stirred a bit, let out a low groan, and rolled over to face away from him.
"Dongwoo.. I know you're awake. Get up!" Myungsoo tried again, but to no avail. Sighing, he climbed up onto his hyung, straddling his legs and looking down at him. To this, Dongwoo cracked his eyes open and looked up at the boy on top of him.
"Good morning to you, too?" He said, his voice friendly and thick with sleep.
"Hyung...get up. I'm bored." Myungsoo pouted, and to that, the older boy simply closed his eyes again and rolled over, causing the younger to topple off of him. Before Myungsoo could gather himself, Dongwoo had snaked his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him in, throwing the blankets over him as he cuddled in, ready to fall asleep again.
Myungsoo whined in protest, but the older boy wasn't having any of it. Pressing a quick kiss to his lover's cheek, Dongwoo smiled softly and only hugged him tighter, not moving from his comfortable position.
"Hyung, why are you so-" Myungsoo found himself being cut off by the press of the older boy's soft, thick lips against his own. He hummed in annoyance at being interrupted, but both boys knew he didn't really mind. Not if it was like this.
Instead of pulling away, Myungsoo merely kissed his lover back, now relaxing in his arms instead of squirming in a half hearted attempt to get away.
The kiss lasted a few seconds before Dongwoo pulled away, giving the younger boy a lazy smile. "Good morning, cutie." He said, kissing the tip of the other's nose.
"Morning, hyung." Myungsoo replied, smiling warmly.
"How'd you sleep?" The older boy asked, gazing at his lover with half closed eyes and a contented look on his face.
"Not as well as you, apparently." Myungsoo grinned.
"No one ever does," Dongwoo laughed, cuddling in closer to his boyfriend, "sleep is my true love."
Myungsoo scoffed. "And what does that make me?" He demanded, jutting out his bottom lip.
"A very cute boy with a very cute pout." The rapper replied, kissing Myungsoo's predominant lip lightly.
"You've been hanging out with Woohyun too much." Myungsoo grinned, pretending that his lover's light compliment didn't cause a pleasant warmth to spread throughout his chest.
"Or you're just incredibly cute." Dongwoo said in reply, offering Myungsoo a warm, infatuated smile before he laid his head down on his chest and closed his eyes.
"Hyung.." Myungsoo warned, though any menace in the unvoiced threat was immediately downplayed by the smitten smile on his face as he gazed down at his somnolent lover with affection.
"Are you really going to to back to sleep?" The younger demanded, raising a questioning eyebrow as he looked down at the boy nuzzling into his chest.
"That depends." He replied, his voice muffled by the lack of movement of his lips.
"On what?"
"Are you going to let me?" He asked, and it was all Myungsoo could do not to grin as he watched his boyfriend try and fail to hold back a smile.
Dongwoo grinned and opened his eyes, placing a light kiss to Myungsoo's pyjama clad chest before he climbed fully on top of him and wrapped his arms and legs around him, pinning him in his spot.
"Hyung, what are you doing?" Myungsoo asked, though not entirely phased by the elder's strange antics.
Dongwoo didn't reply right away. Instead, he just laid his head back down on Myungsoo's chest and closed his eyes.
"You can sleep with me, that way you won't be bored." He rationalized, and Myungsoo only shook his head.
"Or you can get up and we can go do something." The younger retaliated playfully, and Dongwoo opened his eyes and grinned.
"Wake me up then." He said, a jocund glint flashing in his eyes.
Myungsoo let out a soft chuckle and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend's lips, holding it for a few seconds before pulling away and glancing up at the smiling boy.
"Are you awake now?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Dongwoo concentrated for a moment before grinning. "Not quite."
Myungsoo let out a playful laugh before leaning in once again to capture his lover's lips in a kiss. Myungsoo could feel Dongwoo's lips spread into a smile against his own as he kissed him back, and he felt the elder's arms snake around his waist. Naturally, Myungsoo assumed Dongwoo was merely going in for a hug, and that didn't help the embarrassing squeal - that he'd never admit to later - that escaped his lips when Dongwoo tickled his sides. Myungsoo pulled away from the kiss and glared with pseudo annoyance up at his lover, who grinned down in reply.
"I'm awake now." He chirped happily, and Myungsoo's playful glare only intensified.
"That's it." He said, narrowing his eyes further before throwing his entire body weight to one side and rolling them both over, so that now Myungsoo was sitting on top of Dongwoo's hips.
It was then when Myungsoo froze, raising an eyebrow as he said teasingly, "Seems I didn't need to wake you up." He grinned, wiggling his hips a bit.
Dongwoo let out an embarrassed laugh and pushed Myungsoo playfully. "It's morning." He said, letting the words be his excuse for the hard bump Myungsoo felt underneath him.
"So," Myungsoo grinned, leaning in closer to his lover, "what were you dreaming about?"
Dongwoo rolled his eyes, though the smile on his lips immediately gave away the feigned annoyance. "Hush, you." He grinned, rolling over so that Myungsoo toppled off of him, letting out an undignified "oof".
However, now that Myungsoo had found something to curb his boredom, he wasn't about to let it go so easily.
"Hyung," he pouted, worming his way into the elder's arms and pressing their bodies together, looking into his eyes, "what was it?"
Dongwoo merely stole a quick kiss and replied with a "you ask a lot of questions, you know that?"
"You don't give any answers, you know that?" Myungsoo retorted playfully, and Dongwoo grinned.
"Why do you want to know?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I want to know what caused this." Myungsoo said simply, sliding his leg between his boyfriend's, rubbing it up just slightly to show what he was talking about. He didn't miss, however, the way Dongwoo's eyelids fluttered slightly upon contact, and he couldn't pretend that it didn't stir something inside of him.
"Goodnight." Dongwoo replied simply, a smile in his tone, before closing his eyes again, pulling Myungsoo into a tight hug and securing his limbs around him, holding him in place.
"Hyung~" Myungsoo whined, not having it. He pushed himself out from Dongwoo's embrace and placed his hands on his shoulders, flipping the older boy onto his back before climbing back on top of him. "Don't ignore me." He pouted, and Dongwoo cracked his eyes open. It only took a few seconds of eye contact for Dongwoo to smile and lean up to capture Myungsoo's lips with his own, and Myungsoo happily returned the kiss. Myungsoo didn't necessarily want an answer to his question, just something to do, and he'd never say no to kissing Dongwoo.
Myungsoo smiled as he felt Dongwoo hum softly into the kiss, and soon, Dongwoo's hand trailed up Myungsoo's back to tangle his fingers gently in his hair, sending pleasant shivers down Myungsoo's spine as he played with it lightly. Neither of them felt like breaking the kiss, so neither of them did, and their lips moved lazily together for a few moments before anything changed.
Slowly, Myungsoo slid his tongue out and gently traced Dongwoo's bottom lip, and the older boy parted his lips almost immediately. The taller boy didn't hesitate in sliding his tongue into Dongwoo's warm, waiting mouth.
Myungsoo hummed as he felt Dongwoo suck softly on his tongue, and he shifted down slightly, not too surprised to find the shorter boy slightly harder than before. The knowledge of the fact caused Myungsoo to subconsciously deepen the kiss, now having a not-so hazy idea of what he wanted to do.
As soon as Dongwoo matched Myungsoo's pace, Myungsoo slid his hand down his lover's torso and up under the hem of his shirt, allowing his fingers to splay out over Dongwoo's soft skin, already entranced by the feel of it, and craving more. He allowed his fingertips to wander across Dongwoo's stomach and chest, addicted to the way he seemed to arch into his touch.
He got his fill of the older boy's texture before sliding his hand down, tracing the skin by the hem of Dongwoo's plaid pyjama pants with his forefinger, pleased when the older boy shuddered at the feeling, his breath hitching as they kissed.
Satisfied with the reaction, Myungsoo slid his hand down lower and palmed the stiffness between Dongwoo's legs, eliciting a low moan from his lips.
It was then Dongwoo broke the kiss. "We can't- we'll wake the others.." He protested, though his expression was certainly saying otherwise.
Myungsoo chuckled. "They're not home, baby."
"Really?" The rapper asked, the question imperceptibly breathless.
"Yeah." Myungsoo confirmed, and that was all Dongwoo needed. Myungsoo felt himself being flipped over, and suddenly Dongwoo was on top of him, straddling his waist, holding himself up with his arms, and pressing his lips to Myungsoo's.
"Someone's eager." Myungsoo commented, grinning.
"It's you fault," Dongwoo laughed, pressing a light kiss to his lover's lips, "I was just gonna go back to sleep and let it go down."
"Oh really?" Myungsoo asked, trailing his hand back down and playing with the edge of Dongwoo's pyjama pants.
"Yup," the shorter boy grinned, stealing another quick, playful kiss, "and then enjoy a nice, quiet breakfast with my boyfriend."
"Since when have you ever been capable of being quiet?" Myungsoo retorted, laughing. Dongwoo pouted, looking mock offended. "How about I just be breakfast instead?" The younger offered.
"Hm," Dongwoo contemplated, looking down at Myungsoo, inspecting him, "you look pretty good..how do you taste, though?"
Myungsoo grinned. "That's up to you to decide."
Dongwoo chuckled and leaned in to kiss Myungsoo, prying his lips open with his tongue. Myungsoo hummed softly as he felt Dongwoo's hands roam down and tug at the hem of his shirt, and the lead vocalist broke the kiss and lifted his arms just long enough to allow Dongwoo to slip off the garment. Dongwoo leaned down to press one more kiss to his boyfriend's lips before trailing his lips down his neck lightly. Myungsoo allowed his eyes to shut and his hands to move up to gently tangle in Dongwoo's hair, playing with the soft strands as the older boy's wandering kisses moved lower and lower.
Myungsoo felt a pleasant warmth spread across his skin and through his blood stream, stemming out from each kiss. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he felt Dongwoo's warm, wet tongue dart out to run across his nipple. Dongwoo pressed a soft kiss to the same spot before continuing on his way down, peppering kisses all across Myungsoo's torso, stopping once to vibrate his lips on Myungsoo's stomach, eliciting a soft giggle from the younger boy. Myungsoo glanced down to share a grin with his partner before Dongwoo continued kissing down in a trail, and Myungsoo felt his own member beginning to stir as his pants tightened slightly. Dongwoo seemed to notice, and he halted his migration of kisses.
Myungsoo's eyes opened slightly only to meet his lover's, just as the older boy placed his hand between his legs and began palming him gently. Myungsoo inhaled sharply and closed his eyes again as a shocked jolt of pleasure ran up his spine, and he bit down on his lip. Myungsoo was certainly quieter in bed than his partner, but Dongwoo always seemed to know exactly what made him feel good. Myungsoo only felt himself stiffen further as Dongwoo advanced, kneading his hand gently against the younger's arousal.
Dongwoo's hand quickly travelled down beneath Myungsoo's pants, and into his boxers, and he circled his fingers around the base of his member and began pumping slowly, with gentle flicks of his wrist.
Myungsoo's mouth fell open in a silent cry of pleasure, and Dongwoo grinned, leaning in to place a warm kiss on his lover's jaw. Myungsoo felt the older boy's other hand trail down his side and begin to tug down his pants, and Myungsoo lifted his hips up to make it easier for him. Dongwoo shifted out of his position on Myungsoo, and sat beside him now to pull his pants all the way off. Hand still positioned beneath Myungsoo's boxers, he resumed pumping, a little faster this time. Far from bored now, Myungsoo squeezed his eyes shut as pleasure raced through him, and he knew he'd only last a few minutes before he wanted to go further.
Dongwoo paused for just a moment to shift his hand, and Myungsoo took his opportunity to change things up, wanting to take care of what started this in the first place.
He reached down and removed Dongwoo's hand from between his legs, taking a second to smile at the elder's confusion before leaning up and rolling them over so that now, he was situated on top. Myungsoo looked down at Dongwoo and laughed lightly as he saw that Dongwoo's hair, that was getting quite long now, had fallen in his eyes, and all he could see of the older boy was the tip of his nose, and his signature grin. Myungsoo couldn't help but smile himself as he reached down and brushed his lover's hair off of his face, revealing playful eyes, whose innocence was only downplayed by the dilation of his pupils.
"Hi there." Dongwoo smiled, blowing a stray lock of hair out of his face.
"Hi, cutie." Myungsoo replied happily before leaning in to capture Dongwoo's lips in a playful but pointed kiss.
Dongwoo hummed happily and kissed Myungsoo back, and Myungsoo set to work straight away. He ran his hands down Dongwoo's torso and grabbed the edge of his shirt, making quick work of pulling it off and discarding it to the side. He allowed himself to run his eyes over his boyfriend's torso, admiring the build of it, before running a hand down it once more, feeling the subtle bumps and ridges of the muscles underneath his soft skin. Dongwoo hummed again, a little lower pitch this time, and Myungsoo trailed his hand lower and lower until it stopped between the rapper's legs. Myungsoo felt Dongwoo shift his hips up closer to the light touch, and grinned. Dongwoo, who was loud and energetic regularly, carried that trait over into bed, and Myungsoo would be lying if he said he didn't love the way his boyfriend couldn't keep still or quiet when pleasured.
Myungsoo rubbed Dongwoo's already hard length through his pyjama pants as he leaned in to once again claim his lips, and Dongwoo moaned softly into the kiss, rolling his hips up in search of more friction. Myungsoo didn't hesitate to oblige. He palmed Dongwoo's arousal as the kiss steadily grew more heated, the mood set by the slow but steady stream of low groans slipping from the elder's lips. Myungoo let his hand slide up and under the fabric of Dongwoo's flannel pyjama pants, trailing beneath his boxers to circle around his length and begin pumping, earning a much louder moan from the shorter boy.
Pleased to draw out such gratifying reactions from his lover, Myungsoo moved his hand faster, smirking proudly when Dongwoo's hips arched up and into the touch, wanting more. He only stopped when he felt his own arousal throbbing in his boxers, and he knew where they'd go from here.
Myungsoo looked down into Dongwoo's half-lidded eyes, and there was a moments pause for a second of non-verbal communication before they switched positions. Dongwoo stripped out of the rest of his clothing before turning to his lover to pull his boxers off while Myungsoo reached into the nightstand to pull out a small bottle of lube.
The younger spread his legs slightly, allowing Dongwoo to settle between them comfortably as he opened the bottle and squeezed a liberal amount of the gel-like liquid into his hand. Myungsoo relaxed himself as much as possible as his boyfriend coated his fingers before turning to him.
"Ready?" He asked, and Myungsoo nodded, inhaling and relaxing into the mattress. Dongwoo leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Myungsoo's lips, which Myungsoo gratefully returned as his lover slowly slid a finger into him. The younger boy tensed up, but only for a second as, at this point, it didn't hurt; it was more of a slight pinch, which he was used to by now. Dongwoo pushed his finger forward, moving it in and out at a slow pace, waiting for his lover to be fully relaxed around it. It didn't take long, and Dongwoo was able, as usual, to read Myungsoo's body language, that signalled he was ready.
The taller boy squeezed his eyes shut as he felt another finger slip in to join the first, and the pinch ebbed up to a dull ache. He bared with it, though, as he knew it was necessary. Dongwoo hummed out an apology, and Myungsoo kissed him, letting him know he was alright. The pain as nothing he couldn't handle, and so he took a few, calming breaths.
They kept this pace for a few moments, Dongwoo, sliding his fingers in and out, and Myungsoo, taking slow breaths as he lay back into the mattress until he felt ready, and the younger let out a breathy "okay, hyung" before Dongwoo added the third and final finger, stretching him fully.
This time, however, seemed to hurt less than the last addition as Myungsoo had now allowed himself to fully relax. The older boy seemed to notice this, and right away he pushed his fingers deeper inside his boyfriend, crooking them inside of him. Myungsoo wasn't ready for the pleasure that went racing up his spine, and his back arched up off of the mattress as Dongwoo's fingers brushed over his prostate.
"T-there-" Myungsoo breathed out, but Dongwoo didn't need the verbal cue to know that he had found what he was looking for. He continued moving his fingers in that same spot with increased pressure, and Myungsoo felt his eyes roll back into his head as he lost touch with all of his senses, drowned out in the waves of pleasure coursing through him.
Much too soon for Myungsoo's liking, Dongwoo pulled his fingers out. The younger almost whined in protest, but he knew that better things were coming.
He opened his eyes to watch as Dongwoo popped open the bottle of lube and squeezed a generous amount into his palm before coating his erection in it, biting his lip and letting out a soft groan, and Myungsoo wondered briefly what it would be like to watch Dongwoo touch himself.
As soon as it was covered, Dongwoo positioned his arousal in front of Myungsoo's entrance. There was a brief pause, and Myungsoo glanced up to look into his lover's eyes.
"Myungsoo-yah?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you, just thought you should know." Dongwoo smiled, and Myungsoo laughed softly.
"Really? I didn't know. It's not like you tell me every day or anything." Myungsoo grinned, and Dongwoo laughed and leaned in to press his lips to the other boy's before slowly bringing his hips forward, pushing himself into the younger boy.
Myungsoo inhaled sharply, simultaneous to the low moan that escaped Dongwoo's lips. Despite the careful preparation, the the sharp sting that accompanied Dongwoo's ingression was inevitable. Dongwoo wasn't exactly the tallest of people, but he more than compensated for his height elsewhere, and though Myungsoo didn't really mind, it always made the first few seconds of sex uncomfortable.
Myungsoo allowed himself to melt into Dongwoo's light kiss, distracting him momentarily as he let himself adjust. He shifted a little bit, grateful as Dongwoo held still, and as soon as the pain had faded to something manageable, he broke the kiss to peck Dongwoo's cheek lightly and tell him, "you can move".
Dongwoo smiled down at Myungsoo and gave him a quick kiss before pulling his hips back and pushing forward again, sliding into Myungsoo's body. The younger of the two closed his eyes and felt his breathing hitch as Dongwoo continued impelling forward, and subtle waves of pleasure moved through his body.
More than Myungsoo loved the physical feeling of the act, he loved the intimacy and closeness that always came when they had sex. Whether it be gentle love making, or something more playful, the feelings were always there, reassuring both boys of the love from the other. No matter the pace, Dongwoo always made sure that Myungsoo was comfortable before he did anything, and Myungsoo did the same whenever the positions were switched. Each of them was more focused on the pleasure of the other, rather than their own, and that's what brought their sex to a new level entirely.
Slow waves of ecstasy were lapping at Myungsoo's nerves now, and he leaned up to kiss Dongwoo as he wrapped his legs around the older boy's waist, but it wasn't until Dongwoo shifted slightly that-
"Ah-!" Myunsoo's back arched up off of the mattress as Dongwoo hit his prostate dead on, and a near overwhelming pleasure shot through him. Dongwoo didn't need to be told what to do; he kept that angle and picked up his pace, pushing his hips forward again and again as moans fell from his lips, and Myungsoo's head fell back onto his pillow. They soon fell into a rhythm that suited both of them, and Myungsoo's high, shallow breaths harmonized with the constant stream of Dongwoo's low groans, creating a symphony that both boys were attuned to.
Unadultered pleasure burned through Myungsoo's body, and his mind wiped blank as Dongwoo pushed deeper into him, moaning with each thrust of his hips, the sound only pushing Myungsoo closer to the edge.
He felt his muscles tighten and heat begin to coil in his stomach only a few moments before Dongwoo's steady rhythm broke, and Myungsoo knew the older boy was close as well.
Dongwoo moaned out Myungsoo's name softly, and the younger boy's eyes rolled back into his head as his breath grew shallow and erratic.
"H-hyung, I-" Myungsoo's sentence fell away as his back arched up and fell again into the mattress.
Dongwoo picked up speed, and Myungsoo squeezed his eyes shut as dots of colour played behind his eyelids, and his nerves were near on fire now as pleasure built up inside of him, threatening to spill out at any second.
Myungsoo let out a cry of ecstasy, and that was the only warning Dongwoo had before the younger slammed into his climax, and his release spilled out, coating his stomach in the opaque white liquid. Soon after, Dongwoo let out his own pleasured cry, his much louder than his lover's, and Myungsoo felt as he released, the hot liquid filling him up.
Dongwoo's thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, and eventually, they came to a stop, and there was a moment of silence as he pulled out and the sound of heavy breathing was all that filled the room as both boys paused to catch their breath.
"Dongwoo hyung?" Myungsoo asked after a moment's pause.
"Yeah?"
"I love you, too, just thought you should know." Myungsoo smiled, leaning over to kiss Dongwoo lightly.
"I know." Dongwoo beamed, looking at Myungsoo, infatuation clear in his eyes.
"I'm assuming you're awake now?" They both dissolved into a fit of laugher and Dongwoo rolled off of Myungsoo, grinning as he stole a quick kiss.
"I was for a moment, but it's nap time now." He replied, smiling.
"Seriously?" Myungsoo asked, deadpanning, though still in high spirits.
"Seriously." Dongwoo replied, laying down and happily pulling a sheet up and over his waist. "That was tiring." He laughed, and Myungsoo rolled his eyes, despite the affectionate smile on his face.
"Fine." Myungsoo chucked, kissing Dongwoo's cheek.
Myungsoo sat up and stretched out, blinking as he smiled to himself and looked over at his lover, who had already closed his eyes, and had a small smile glued to his lips.
"Have a good nap, hyung." Myungsoo said, getting to his feet carefully.
"See you in a little bit, cutie." Dongwoo hummed, nestling down into the bed and pulling another blanket up.
Myungsoo picked up his boxers and pants and headed to the bathroom to clean himself up before heading out to the kitchen to make breakfast for himself and Dongwoo, who he knew would be hungry when he woke up. He chuckled softly to himself as he began to prepare their meal, which would be anything but quiet, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Frozen

I realized when I posted this, that I forgot to mention this is the squeal to my previous one shot, One Missed Call~
--------------------

He could be sleeping.

Kibum found that was his only coherent thought as he looked down at the body of his best friend, resting peacefully in the dark-washed wooden coffin.
He wanted to be angry at Jonghyun; he wanted to hate the man for leaving him behind, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything. The six days between discovering Jonghyun’s body and the funeral he was at now were all a blur of complete nothingness.
All of the faceless people telling him they were sorry for his loss, and what a tragedy this whole thing was...it all blended together into a mosaic of noises and colours and Kibum couldn’t find the effort to distinguish one from another.
He couldn’t find the effort to do anything. He had only left his room a handful of times in the last week, and each venture out had been as uneventful as the hours he spent in his bed, wishing he could sleep away reality.

Kibum blinked, and then suddenly, they were outside. The coffin was being lowered into the ground, and the ripping sobs of Jonghyun’s sister and mom were the only thing that could be heard other than the murmured words of sorrow that came from the preacher performing the ceremony. Key felt like sobbing too, he felt like dropping to his knees and screaming, begging for them to bury him too...but he couldn’t. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t cry, couldn’t breathe. This was all far too real, and yet so unreal at the same time that it made his head hurt, and the hollow area in his chest where his heart once was gave a painful lurch.

It was only when the coffin hit the bottom with an empty thud, that it hit him. This really was real. This was it. Jonghyun, his best friend, Kim Jonghyun, the only person he had counted on being there forever, was gone. He was gone and he was never coming back. Kibum would never see him again. He would never see him smile again, or laugh again, or hear his ever-cheerful voice. Kibum felt a wave of bitter resentment flood through him.
Guess that was all an act.
The smiles, the laughter, the jokes... it was all a mask, fitted so brilliantly that Kibum wasn’t even sure Jonghyun himself saw through it until it was too late. Too late. Of course it was too late…everything seemed to revolve around time, and Jonghyun had run out. The hands of time had taken him by the neck and dragged him down until he was ten feet under and drowning in everything he couldn’t handle.
He hadn’t tried to reach out for the longest time, and when he finally did, Kibum had ignored him, and then all of a sudden, guilt hit him so hard that it brought it him to his knees and it was all he could do not to scream in frustration.
This was entirely his fault. If he hadn’t been so selfish, so disgustingly narcissistic, then his best friend would still be alive. There was no way around it; the recorded message of Jonghyun’s last words was all the proof Kibum needed. He was the only one to blame, and with that as a final thought, he was swallowed back up into the unforgiving blackness of his mind, and all he had was his crippling regret to keep him company.

~


“It’s been one month since the sun fell out of the sky. Twenty-eight and a half days since the world stopped spinning, and yet somehow I’m still walking.
They told me it would get easier as life went on; that it would get less painful as time passed. They couldn’t be more wrong. If anything, it’s gotten worse. As the separation stretches further, I find I lose more of myself, and the effort to go find it again is fading faster than I can handle.
After the funeral, I figured I could just go home, mope a bit, and move on. I thought that I could just close my eyes and the images burned onto the backs of my eyelids would just go away… I had lied to myself. I was dragged down into a world of flashbacks and nightmares, and I couldn’t tell which was which.
I remember everything clearly; as if it were all a video… no… not a video, as the details are blurry, and transitions from one place to another aren't clear… it’s like a series of pictures, playing on loop in my mind. I can’t forget, and quite honestly, I’m not sure I want to. I don’t think I want to let go of the last thing I have of you…
The images of your body, still and lifeless, mangled and scarred by your own self-mutilation...your parents’ broken expressions, your sisters shattered composure...all of it, preserved perfectly in my mind.
All of it keeps replaying, refusing to leave me alone as the final words you spoke soundtrack the show as a mantra of your plead for help...the plead which I ignored.
The guilt is what kills me the most… knowing that this is all my fault, knowing that I could have stopped you, could have saved you… but I didn’t. I selfishly ignored your desperate cry and slept through the night, resting peacefully while your problems took a hold of you, dragging you under, and drowning you in their consuming weight. Had I known you were suffering, had I known that your intentions were leaving, God knows I would have answered the call. How could I not have seen it? Looking back now, I was so blind. It was so obvious that you weren’t okay. You poured yourself into your music, and the lyrics you penned outlined the shadows you had come to live in. It was you reaching out for help, but I chose to ignore the signs. Your music was a source of escapism for you, and yet your dreams became the very thing that dragged you down. You made one final attempt at escape twenty-eight and a half days ago… A mere 684 hours have passed since you left, 41 010 minutes, 2 462 400 seconds that have stretched out into an eternity… and yet it’s nothing compared to the few short moments that it took for you to leave… I’m sorry Jonghyun. I failed you. I let you down and in turn let you go… I hope you are at peace now, playing music with the angels and shamelessly flirting with the girls up there.”

Kibum let out a hollow chuckle at the thought of that, because he knew that was exactly what his best friend would be doing right now, always shameless, always charming, Kim Jonghyun was never not the centre of someone’s attention.
Key didn’t realize that he was crying until a tear slid down his nose and onto the fresh page in his journal, smudging a section of the words.
With a sickening lurch of his empty chest, he was reminded yet again of how much he missed his best friend. It was as if he had died with Jonghyun, and now all that was left was his corpse, hollowed and numb to the world around him, frozen in time at the point where he discovered his friend’s body.
The message his friend left him always made sure to play through his mind at every possible chance, acting as a sort of lullaby to his happiness, putting it to sleep and leaving only misery and guilt stirring around inside his overactive mind. Kibum couldn’t bring himself to delete the message- to delete the last thing Jonghyun had left him, the only thing that reminded him that this was real and that he wasn’t stuck in some horrible, twisted nightmare.
Reality had long since hit him square in the face; the difference now was that he didn’t want it to be real. He didn’t want this to be the painful truth and he found comfort in the lie that he had constructed but couldn’t make himself believe. He knew Jonghyun was gone. His hazy mind and shattered heart could agree on that much. They both knew that Jonghyun was lost to the world now, left behind by those who were able to move on, forgotten by those who didn’t care…


~

“Kibum... it’s been six months…you can’t just spend the rest of your life locked up in your room.” The teen’s mother begged as she stood beside his bed where he lay, looking up at the ceiling but not really seeing it.
Key couldn't bring himself to reply. He knew it wasn't fair to his mother, but in all honesty, he has nothing to say. He'd tried numbly to explain it to her once. He had no reason to get up anymore. He just...couldn't. There was no point. He'd stopped dancing. The one thing he thought he'd always have no longer held anything for him, it bored him almost, and, in the same way as everything else, he just...couldn't. He'd put away the scholarship to the dance school he'd earned his way into...the school that would have been right down the road from the arts school that Jonghyun's acceptance letter had come for two weeks after he'd passed.
The two boys had planned that together. They chose the schools specifically because they were so close to each other, and Heaven forbid the duo ever be more than a few minutes apart. Kibum guessed Heaven had forgotten that his best friend had planned on taking his own life.
It was cruel, Kibum thought, the timing of everything...
Had Jonghyun waited two weeks, just 14 days, he would have seen that he had earned a scholarship to the arts school, and that would have taken away a lot of his stress...it would have solved so many of his problems that he had explained in his goodbye letter. It probably would have even saved his life...

Kibum let out a frustrated sigh that made his mother's eyebrows furrow in concern.
"Honey, I know you're still upset but you can't let this stop you from living your life...Jonghyun wouldn't have wanted that. He'd want you to be happy again." She said softly, and the teen closed his eyes because deep down, he knew she was right.
The slightly-shorter, puppy-eyed boy was probably berating him from somewhere beyond the grave right now, nagging him to get up and go do something with himself.
Kibum didn't have to try that hard to picture exactly what his best friend would be saying to him right now. "Yah, Kim Kibum, what do you think you're doing? Honestly, I thought I was the lazy one. Get your ass up off your bed and into those gay little dance shorts of yours and go show the world why you earned that scholarship. You're Kim Kibum, the Almighty Key, you don't let things stop you, you don't let anything get in your way. Come on Kibummie, get up."
"I'm sorry...." Key muttered softly, not sure whether the words were directed towards his mother or towards the conjured up Jonghyun that was trying to coax him up, "but I can't..."

~

Kibum pulled his coat tighter around him and nuzzled his face down lower into his scarf as the bitter October wind nipped at his face.
He knew his way around the graveyard better than the way around his house at this point, and so even with eyes squinted shut against the icy air, he made his way without issue to the polished rock which his friend lay under.
Routinely now, the teen sank down to sit cross legged in front of the tombstone and offered it a small smile.
"Hi Jjong...I hope it's warm where you are, because it's freezing here. I think I'm getting frostbite on my ass as we speak, but I can worry about that later." Key said, hollow humour in his tone. He let himself trail off, leaving the silence for Jonghyun's unsaid words to fill.
"Not much has changed since I was last here...sorry I couldn't make it the other day, my mom made me go out job hunting. 'If you won't go back to school, at least find a job. You need to get out of the house'..." He quoted, looking down as the nonexistent chastising of the older boy filled his ears.
"I know, I know...I should go back to school. It's stupid to waste a year like this, but who are you to talk? You haven't moved at all in 53 weeks...okay I'm sorry, that was lame." Kibum said with an empty chuckle as he raised his hand to dab away the tears pooling in his eyes and waited for the reply that would never come.
"Damn it Jonghyun, why'd you have to leave?" Key asked, his voice suddenly shaking now as the tears flooded his eyes and began to stream mercilessly down his cheeks.
Kibum swore internally with regret. He hadn't meant to break down. He didn't want to cry...he was breaking his streak of three days without tears...but he couldn't stop them now, and so he sat there and choked back a sob as his tears fell thick and fast into his lap.
"Why'd you go Jjong? W-why didn't you t-talk to me? Didn't y-you know I l-loved you?" He asked, his voice breaking and fading into a whisper, only to be carried away by the wind.
"Y-you're my f-friend Jjong, my b-best friend, I c-cared about you, I-" A sob forced its way from Key's chest, cutting his sentence off as he dissolved into tears. Bitter regret swirled into an angry mix with something that could only be labeled as sheer and undiluted anguish, and raced through him like tidal waves leaving him breathless, gasping for air.

He buried his face in his hands as he sat there with the unforgiving fall wind whipped around his shaking body, and he doubled over in on himself. The familiar emptiness overtook him again, consuming him from the inside out as the hollow spot in his chest physically ached with longing...all he wanted was his friend back...he just wanted to see him smile one more time, hear his laugh just once more...then maybe he could move on, accept this loss, stop the hurt...but he'd never get that compensation and he knew it...he was stuck here, held down by the emptiness that Jonghyun had left him with.
“You never even said goodbye.” Kibum said, choking out his whispered thought, shaking his head as the words he spoke got caught in his throat. Agony ripped through him, doing a better job of freezing him solid than the wind that ripped at his clothing and tore at his hair.
Very suddenly, he was all too aware of where he was and an unmatched jealousy flooded through his veins as he forced himself to look up and around at the graves surrounding him. He was the only living person within sight… the only one still breathing, the only one still moving, the only one still hurting… No one else here had to think about anything. They didn’t have anything to worry about or stress over, they didn’t have to deal with loss or pain… everything like that was trivial to them now. They were at peace, without worry or care, and for a second, for just a half second, Kibum could rationalize why Jonghyun chose to end his own life.
The teen would give almost anything to just stop this suffering, and all of a sudden, he couldn’t blame the deceased older boy anymore. He got it. He finally understood.

~

“Come on sweetie, put your mittens on, it’s cold out there.” Kibum urged the small boy as they stood in the front door of their small townhouse.
“Where are we going appa?” The toddler asked as Key pulled woollen mittens onto his squirming fingers.
“I want you to meet someone.” He said simply, smiling softly to himself as the young boy’s face lit up animatedly. Kibum’s heart squeezed as the boy’s large brown puppy eyes lit up in wonder and reminded him for the nth time of the man they were going to visit.
“Who, who, who?”
“Patience, Jonghyunnie, you’ll see.” The boy’s father answered with a warm smile. The boy let out a small, impatient whine.

“Where are you taking him, love?” Nicole called from the kitchen as she peeked her head around the door.
"Graveyard." He replied in English, and the young boy looked up with wide confused eyes.
"Appa." He whined with a small pout, and it kind of melted Kibum's heart just a little bit.
"It won't even be 10 minutes Jjong-ah, be patient." He said softly, his heart squeezing with the ghost of the heartache he felt at his friends old nickname.
The toddler let out an impatient huff and jutted his bottom lip out, but didn't say anything further. Kibum chuckled and ruffled his sons hair affectionately as the young boy's pout struck at Key's heart strings. He was the spitting image of the Kim Jonghyun who once lived; it was as if his old friend had reincarnated in the form of the three-year-old in front of him.

"Don't be long yeobo, dinner will be ready in an hour." Nicole said with a soft smile as she walked out to kiss her husband goodbye, and Key felt a warmth spread through his chest that he had missed for so long.

Nicole had been a mutual friend of him and Jonghyun for a few years. They were never close, but she had been there at the funeral, and had helped him to find a job once he could manage to get himself out of his house. They grew closer, and she had been there for him when he was at his lowest. Always kind, always caring, always understanding, she had been an essential part in him getting back on his feet.
It was around one year after the funeral that they started dating, and four years after that they were married.
Two years into the marriage, they found out that Nicole was infertile, and though saddened by the news, the couple didn't let that stop them.
A few weeks after finding out, they were at the orphanage and looking for a child. It was a mere matter of minutes before Kibum saw the baby that he simply couldn't not have. Looking up from a bundle of light blue blankets was a small infant with the most puppy-like eyes he had seen in seven years, and the resemblance to his best friend was startling.
Nicole had noticed Key's attention stray time and time again back to the young boy, and they both agreed on him. It was a mutual decision to name him Jonghyun, and though the name stung to speak at first, Key felt it helped the deceased man live on.

"Okay, love." Key smiled, returning to the present as he kissed his wife goodbye. "Come on Jonghyunnie." He said warmly.
"Ok appa." The toddler said, reaching up to slip his tiny mitted hand into his father's.
The duo walked out the door and into the car, and Key chuckled good-naturedly as Jonghyun squirmed and fussed about being put in a car seat.
"Appa?" The boy asked from behind him as Key started out of the driveway and down the street.
"Yes, Jjong?"
"Are we there yet?" He asked, eyes wide as he looked out the window.
"No, sweetie, not yet." Key replied fondly.
"Appa?"
"Yes, son?"
"How far away are we?"
"Not very far." Kibum said, quiet amusement in his voice.
"Appa?"
"Yes, Jonghyun?"
"How much longer?" The child asked, his eyes now trained on his fathers reflection in the rear view mirror.
"Count to fifty."
"Appa?"
"Yes?" Key asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"What's fifty?"
"It's a number, Jonghyunnie. I'll count with you. You start, okay?
"Okay!" Jonghyun said excitedly, and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he started with what he knew. "One, two, three, four, five...seven, no, six! Six, seven, eight...nine..ten...appa?"
"Yes Jjong?"
"What comes after ten?"
"Eleven, hon."
"Eleven?" Jonghyun repeated, tilting his head to one side.
"That's right." Kibum said with a soft smile, and Jonghyun grinned with excitement.
"Eleven!" He repeated again, his eyes lighting up animatedly at the new word.
"Do you know what comes next?" Key asked, laughing softly in amusement.
"Hmmm..." The boy's eyebrows furrowed together again, and his bottom lip jutted out as he tried to find the word he didn't know.
"It's 'twelve', Jjong." Key said, and the toddler's excitement returned.
"Twelve!"

Their little game of guess and count continued until they reached the graveyard, and Jonghyun was quite literally bouncing up and down in his car seat in excitement at all the new knowledge he was presented with.
"Appa?"
"Yes, Jonghyunnie?"
"Are we there yet?" The wide-eyed boy asked, and Key chuckled as he put the car into park.
"Yes, Jjongie, we're here." He replied, getting out of the car and walking around behind him to take the frantic toddler out of his seat.
Once unbuckled, Jonghyun was scooped up into his father's arms and carried the short distance to the slightly weather withered stone with the fresh flowers in front of it.
"Is this where we're meeting them?" Jonghyun asked, looking around for any signs of another person.
"He's already here, Jjong. He's been waiting for us." Key explained patiently, amusement playing across his expression as the young boy turned his head side to side, looking for any sign of the man his father was talking about.
"I don't see him." Jonghyun said with a disappointed pout.
"He's right in front of us." The elder said, pointing to the tombstone.
"Behind the rock?" The toddler asked, and Kibum let out a low chuckle.
"It's called a grave, love."
"So he's behind the grave?" Jonghyun asked, craning his neck to look around it.
"He's beyond the grave." Key said, and he had to bite his lip now to stop himself from crying.
"I don't get it, appa."
"He's..not with us anymore Jjong, he passed away years ago."
"Passed away?" Jonghyun repeated, not understanding the term.
"He...died a while back." His father explained, setting the toddler on the ground.
"Oh. What's his name, appa?" The boy asked, walking closer to the grave and looking at it carefully.
"His name was Jonghyun." Key said with a low chuckle.
"That's my name!" The toddler exclaimed, excitement lighting up his features.
"Yes, Jonghyunnie, you're named after him."

There was a short pause as the young boy took in that information and looked up at his father.
"Was he your friend, appa?" Jonghyun asked, nothing but innocence in his tone as curiosity burned behind his hauntingly similar puppy eyes.
"Yes, Jjong, he was my best friend." Key replied, biting his lip as tears welled up, threatening to spill over as he looked down into the eyes of his son, and indirectly, the friend he lost.
Jonghyun looked alarmed as he watched his father's composure falter and fade. A determined pout appeared on the young boy's face and he wiggled his hand out of his fathers grip and walked over to the tombstone, placing his small, mitten clad hand on it.
"Hi, Jonghyun. Appa says I'm named after you. I think that means I stole your name. You can have it back if you want." The toddler stated, looking intently at the grave.

It was only then that it hit Kibum. In that moment, it really hit him. Sure, Jonghyun was physically gone, but that doesn't mean he wasn't there at all.
He remembered reading once, though he couldn't quite recall where, that a person actually dies twice. Once, when they stop breathing, and second when someone says their name for the last time.
Jonghyun was painfully and undeniably gone, physically dead, buried in the ground...but as long as Kibum remembered him, kept him alive in his thoughts and words, then Jonghyun wouldn't really die.
Despite the usual sadness that settled in his chest upon seeing the grave, Kibum felt hope for the first time. Hope, in the form of his son. Jonghyun. Kim Jonghyun.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.

One Missed Call


Key groaned and collapsed onto his bed, every muscle in his body aching from relentless hours upon hours of dance practice.
He glanced over at the digital clock on his bedside table; the neon red numbers told him that it was currently 10:57 PM.
Key laid on the bed and debated internally whether or not it was worth it to actually get up and put his pajamas on.
Sighing, he decided that it would be better to, and that he would sleep more comfortably if he did.
The exhausted teen sat up and, lacking the grace he usually displayed, flopped out of bed and onto the floor, where he managed to haul himself up and into a standing position.

Dragging his feet, he walked to the other side of his room where his pajamas lay folded on a chair.
Begrudgingly, he stripped out of his sweaty dance clothes, abandoning them on the floor and mentally vowing to pick them up tomorrow morning, and pulled his blue flannel pajama pants and black tank top on.

Kibum's eyes were already shut by the time he made it to his bed, and he collapsed once again, face down into his pillow, ready to pass out for the next eternity.

He felt his own breathing slow and he knew that a deep sleep was mere seconds away, when suddenly his phone buzzed from his bedside table.
Key mumbled out a curse and cracked an eye open, reaching out and grabbing his phone. Through slightly blurred vision, he read the display screen.
"Incoming call: Kim Jonghyun."

Key growled and closed his eyes again, putting his phone back down.
Whatever it was could wait until the morning. His best friend knew not to disturb him this late at...11:03 according to his clock.
He let the phone take it to messages and put his head back down on the pillow, willing himself to sleep.
No sooner than he began to drift off, his phone buzzed again, and upon lifting the irritating device, he saw that it was Jonghyun again.
"Damnit Jjong." The dancer growled, putting the phone back down.
There was a beep before the phone took the call to messages.
"Kibumah...” The older boy's voice came softly, pleading, as a broken whisper over the answering machine, but Key had already fallen asleep.

~

Kibum yawned and stretched, smiling lazily to himself and feeling quite well rested.
The clock on his bedside table read 11:36 AM, and after the long, long sleep, he was in a much better mood.
Rolling over onto his side, Kibum grabbed his phone, barely even recalling the calls from his best friend earlier that night, only remembering that he had been rightfully annoyed. Who in the right mind calls at that time of night?
Kibum dialed the familiar number that would inevitably lead to a lazy "hello?" from Jonghyun, whose voice would still be thick with sleep. The older boy always stayed up late to play video games, ended up falling asleep half way through one, then sleeping in late into the afternoon, only to do it again the next night.

The phone was answered on the third ring, and Kibum immediately went into a half-hearted tirade.
"Kim Jonghyun why the hell would you call me at- ...Jjong?" He said abruptly as he heard what was coming from the other line. Heavy, shallow breathing and quiet hiccups were all that could be distinguished, and they sounded nothing like the voice of his friend.
"K-Key...” The voice choked out, making Kibum's eyes widen in surprise.
"Songdam noona? What's wrong, and why do you have Jonghyun's phone?" He asked, curiosity and worry settling in his mind.
"K-Key last n-night he-" Songdam voice dissolved into sobs, and she was unable to continue.
Now Kibum was really worried.
"He what, noona?" He asked urgently, panicking slightly at the hysteric sounds coming from the older girl.
He tried to wait patiently, but the lack of coherent reply from Songdam was driving him insane.
"I'll be over in a few." Key said, hanging up.

His mind was buzzing as he jumped out of bed, not even bothering to get changed as he made his way down the hall and out of his house, to the car.
Jonghyun what? Was he sick? Did he fall ill? Come to think of it, he had seemed a little off the past few weeks. Maybe he'd caught some sort of weird flu.

Kibum sped down the streets that led to the Kim's house, and as soon as he pulled down the final road, his heart dropped. There was an ambulance parked out front of Jonghyun's house, and Songdam was waiting by it, glancing down the street, apparently waiting for him.
As he parked on the side of the road, he could see the tears streaming down her paled face, sending another spike of panic through him.
He pulled over quickly onto the side of the road and jumped out of the car, running towards her.
"Noona, what the hell happened?" He asked, alarm flooding his tone.
Songdam just shook her head, sobbing far too much to form a comprehensible reply.
Instead, she reached out for Kibum's hand, which he let her take, and led him back towards the house.
Kibum was led up to the front door in a numb trance.
What happened?

On their way through the door, they were met by a team of paramedics coming through the opposite way. The four of the doctors stood around a stretcher carrying something that was obscured from Kibum's view, and he craned his neck in a futile attempt to see what lay there.
It was Songdam's choked sob that brought him back to the moment.
Kibum looked over at her only to see her give a small nod to the paramedic she was conversing with.
"I'm so sorry, we were far too late. There was nothing we could do." He said, his voice low and solemn.
She nodded once more before a fresh wave of sobs overtook her and she buried her face in her hands.
Kibum reached out and put his hand gingerly on her shoulder as the paramedics hurried past him, wheeling the stretcher out with them.

"Noona! Noona, what's going on?" Key asked, his voice now nearing hysteria.
"W-we were h-hoping y-you could tell us." She choked out between sobs.
Confusion and panic was so thick in Kibum's mind that he found it difficult to create a solid thought, and he still couldn't grasp what was going on.
He guessed his confusion showed on his face, because Songdam once again took his hand and led him down a hallway towards the bathroom where her parents stood.
Jonghyun's mother was in a similar condition to Songdam. Her face was buried in her hands and sobs visibly racked through her body, splitting the would-be silence.
Jonghyun's father was the opposite. He stood completely unmoving, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever, but his eyes were shining with unshed tears.
Songdam ushered him past her parents, who immediately cleared the room, and into the bathroom.

Kibum's stomach dropped, and it felt as if someone had filled his veins with ice.
There was a note lying on the vanity counter, but Kibum didn't have to read it to know what it said.
In his best friend's messy scrawl would read something along the lines of how everything was becoming too stressful, between trying to graduate with honours and balancing a stable job while trying to get into one of the prestigious universities he was looking at, as well as trying to get his musical career started.
It would also say something about how sorry he was, and how no one should blame themselves, and this was all his choice, and how he loved them all.

As Kibum took another numb step further into the room, time stopped, and his breath froze in his throat, suspended there but refusing to come out.
The bathtub was filled with an opaque, diluted red liquid, and a small, silver blade was perched on the side of the tub and suddenly the room was spinning because everything made sense now.

Kibum heard a garbled yell and it took him a few seconds to realize that the deranged noise had come from his own vocal cords.
He collapsed to his knees, unable to stand in the dizzying, tilted room, and sobs of his own were ripped from his body, echoing against the tiled floor.
Suddenly, a hollow voice sounded from behind him.
"Do you have any idea why he did this, Kibum?" Jonghyun's father asked, his voice sounding forced, almost automatic.
The teen opened and closed his mouth, unable to form words, and settled for shaking his head instead.

There was a long, heavy silence before anyone spoke again.
"Songdam, I think you should escort Kibum home. There is nothing left here." The elder man said, and just like that, his tough exterior broke with his voice, and tears began streaming down his face.

Songdam nodded through her own hysteria and extended her hand to Kibum, who took it in his own shaking palm and pushed himself to his feet. Nothing felt real. He couldn't feel his own body, and his mind was buzzing with a numbness that made him both sick and dizzy at the same time. This wasn't happening. There was no way. Kim Jonghyun, the one who was never NOT smiling, the one who was all jokes and laughter, the one who always seemed so...put together, couldn't have taken his own life. There must have been some kind of mistake.
Kibum felt as if he was drifting through the hallways of the once familiar house that now seemed cold and foreign to him.
He felt lost as Songdam guided him to the front door, lost and scared, like a small child, trapped in a world that wasn't meant for him.

He stepped out the door and into the day, squeezing his eyes shut immediately. It was bright, far too bright for a day like today. The sun's warmth was mocking him, laughing at how he felt none of its heat. Instead, he felt frozen from the inside out, as if it were ice running through his veins instead of blood. Blood, like what had filled and stained the porcelain bathtub, a sickening reminder of his best friend's life had literally flowed out of him.
A wave of nausea crashed over Kibum at that thought, and both his stomach and the splintering organ in his chest gave a painful lurch as he tried to wrap his mind around the thought of Jonghyun actually- no. He couldn't think about that. He couldn't afford to lose it any more than he already had.

As his eyes adjusted, the first thing he saw was the team of paramedics from before, loading a stretcher into the back of the ambulance, and the next thing he knew, he was yelling, fighting to push his way past them.
How could he have been so stupid? This was obviously a joke. As soon as he saw Jonghyun's body, the older boy would sit up and say 'got ya!' with that crooked, million-watt grin he always had on his face.
Kibum would pretend like he was angry, but in the end he would just be relieved that his friend was okay. It would be just like when they were kids, and Jonghyun fell off the swings at the park and had lain there, unmoving until a hysterical Kibum ran over to check on him.
He would be okay, just the same.
This would all be a sick joke, just the same.
And Kibum would still have his best friend, just the same.

The paramedics held him back, trying to talk sense into him, but their voices were lost to the roaring of blood in Kibum's ears. He just needed to see Jonghyun again. He just needed to be sure he was alive.
"He's my friend!" Key heard his own voice cut through the noise, a strained shout above the calming voices.
"He's my best friend!" He yelled again, pushing back against the men restraining him.

There was a murmur of something Kibum couldn't understand before the men parted and let him through.
In no way was he prepared for what he saw.
Jonghyun's face, usually all smiles and grins, was paled and void of any emotion.
Key knew it was all just an act though. It had to be.
Any second now.
In just a moment, the boy lying in front of him would put an end to this cruel prank.
Soon. It had to be.
Kibum's breathing slowed as he waited in anticipation for this to end. Panic was setting in now.
Why hadn't Jonghyun done anything yet? The shorter boy knew better than to keep him waiting.
Key could feel his breathing grow shallow, and the roaring in his ears intensified until-
"Damnit Jonghyun, wake up!" Kibum exploded, rushing forward to shake his friend by the collar.
"This isn't funny anymore, fuck, Jjong stop!" He screamed, slamming his fist down on the older boy's lifeless chest.
Completely unaffected by the younger's outburst, Jonghyun's head rolled lazily to one side, his eyelids cracking open.
The scream torn from Kibum's lips sounded distant to him, as if it were not his own, because he couldn't- wouldn't believe that this was real.
"Jonghyun, please, no! Fuck, Jonghyun don't leave me! Please!" Key sobbed, his vision swimming before him as he glanced once more at his friend's face.
As Kibum's world was torn apart, Jonghyun's face was completely peaceful, save for the barely visible tear streaks down his cheeks.
His half-hooded eyes gazed up unseeingly at the sky above him, glazed over as if they were focused on something that no one else could see.

The usual burning light that shone in those eyes had gone out, extinguished in the older boy's desperate attempt to flee from this life, and that in itself was more, much more, than Kibum could handle.

He stumbled backwards, away from the wreckage in front of him, and fell blindly, caught in the arms of one of the paramedics.
The roaring in his ears had faded and been replaced by a haunting, unnatural silence that intensified every little noise. Even his own heartbeat played too loudly, hurting him every time it beat.
"Take him home." The murmured scream of the paramedic came, and Kibum felt himself being passed into another, smaller set of arms.
"Kibumah...let's get out of here." Songdam whispered, causing the boy to flinch away from the noise.

The only effort he could manage was forced into a small nod as he allowed the older girl to help him up and somehow assist him in walking away, heading towards the car, leaving another piece of him behind with every step.

It was only once he was buckled into the passenger seat of Songdam's car (how did they get there?) that Kibum remembered the calls from last night.
Scrambling as fast as his frozen limbs would let him; Kibum pulled out his phone and went directly to messages.
The hollow spot in his chest gave a painful squeeze as the screen flashed 'new messages: 1. Kim Jonghyun.'
With trembling fingers, he hit play, and what was left of his composure splintered and collapsed at the recording of the last words Kim Jonghyun ever spoke.
"Kibumah...please, help me."


~


Jonghyun sighed, closing the door to his bedroom as the raised voices of his parents floated up the stairs and into the would-be silent night.
He didn't have to hear their words to know what they were fighting about.

Him.

Well, not entirely.
His family wasn't poor, but they weren't rich by any standard, and his parents had no idea how to get him into any of the universities he was looking at, not to mention the pricey auditioning fee for the entertainment company he was hoping to join.
His parents had been fighting nonstop over if they could afford it, and if it was worth it or not to let him go through with his music.


Jonghyun felt guilty and torn. He wanted his music more than anything, but it wasn't a sure bet, and his parents were being ripped apart over something that wasn't even guaranteed.
He had the talent, sure, but hardly the money, and he was barely scraping by on the academic aspect. He hadn't yet found the courage to tell his parents that he was failing math.

He knew that would be the tipping point. His parents had always told him that his grades came first, and he knew that telling them that he just couldn’t get it wouldn’t cut it. He’d tried, he really had, but even as a child he never understood mathematics. Since when did a letter representing an unknown number make sense?

Jonghyun flinched as he was brought back from his mind by a particularly loud shout from the kitchen, and it felt like a physical punch. He sighed internally as he felt the familiar sinking feeling in his chest, his closet depression pulling him back down again.

It didn’t hurt anymore when he messed up, or when he was in trouble, or when his parents fought. No, he was way past the stage where it hurt. He had since long gone numb. He didn’t feel anymore, and he wasn’t sure which he preferred. The crippling agony in his chest each and every time he realized how completely useless and hopeless everything was, or this state of unfeeling.

At least, he found himself thinking bitterly, when he was hurting, he knew he was alive.

Now he needed almost a daily reminder, and so he had taken it upon himself to both be his punishment and personal memorial.

The singer let his shoulders slump as he closed his eyes, hating himself more and more with each passing second. His family was falling apart because of him, and there was no way out of it. He just wasn’t smart enough to do anything. His dreams and reality had clashed and the results were a barren, bleak looking future, grey and painful as the small blade that awaited him in the bathroom across the hall. That same blade that was beckoning him right now, promising release from the tension and stress running through his veins, and, of course, the everlasting reminder that – unfortunately- he was still alive.

Jonghyun inhaled a breath into his hollow lungs and made the short journey down the hall to the small bathroom where his steel savior awaited. He closed the door behind him and shrugged out of his jacket and shirt. Though he wasn’t academically brilliant, Jonghyun wasn’t an idiot either. He knew that if he cut his wrists, it would only be a matter of time until the abrasions were seen and he was sent away to some rehabilitation centre. The only thing that would succeed in would be digging his grave even deeper. He was beyond help, and he knew it. There was nothing anyone could do.

Jonghyun found himself in a sort of trance as he opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out his blade, sitting down on the edge of the pristinely white porcelain tub.
Almost routinely now, Jonghyun brought the blade up to the underside of his bicep and pressed the cold steel to the first section of unmarked skin that he could find.

He let out a small, barely audible gasp as he pulled the blade back and watched as the scarlet liquid immediately beaded and began dripping down his arm.

Yup, he muttered bitterly to himself, “still alive.”

Well, living anyway, he corrected with an afterthought.

In that moment Jonghyun was suddenly aware of how much he really didn’t want to be alive.

More than that though, he just wished he were dead.

He was close enough to that state anyway. Emotionless, unfeeling, and cold…and the thought of death was so promising.
He just couldn’t see a point anymore. His future was hopeless, his family was splitting at the seams, and most of his friends had already left for university. Really, all he had l left was his best friend, Kim Kibum, but not even that was enough for Jonghyun to keep a firm grasp on his sanity.

As that conclusion passed through his fogged mind, Jonghyun found himself growing cold, not emotionally this time, but physically. It was as if the realization of how desolate he really was, was now rushing through his veins, freezing him solid from the inside out.

Shivering borderline violently, Jonghyun’s mind instinctively reeled, trying to figure out a way to get warm again.

He acted on the first solution he came up with, and turned around where he sat to turn on the hot water in the tub.

Slowly, much too slowly, the large tub filled up and Jonghyun stared down at it, watching the steam swirl off of the surface and up into the air above where it disappeared, and he felt a dull longing to join it, to just fade away into nothingness along with the vapour…

Without bothering to take the rest of his clothes off, Jonghyun lowered himself into the scalding hot tub, but with a jolt of something like fear, he realized that he could hardly feel the burning water on his skin.

He was shaking harder now, and he lowered himself deeper into the water, desperate to feel its warmth, but there was nothing.

Suddenly, though his head was still above the water, he felt like he was drowning, choking on the air around him, and he felt his lungs constrict.

Still frozen and gasping for breath, a single thought passed Jonghyun’s mind.

This is exactly what his future was going to look like. Try as hard as he might, it was futile. He was going nowhere, he would amount to nothing, and he could do absolutely nothing about it. There was no way out….unless…maybe there was.

Maybe the solution was in front of him the whole time.

Jonghyun stared at the small blade in his hand and felt his mind clear.

Suddenly it all made sense. It was obvious now, he had a way out the whole time. Just a few, short moments and he could be away from all this stress, all this…nothingness.

He could be free.

He could do this.

He had to.

Dripping wet, he hoisted himself out of the water to sit in the edge of the tub. Jonghyun dug around in the cupboard and pulled out a pen and a blank scrap piece of paper and began scribbling down an apology. He didn’t want anyone to blame themselves for this. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause of another fight between his parents.

He finished the note quickly and placed it down on the counter, taking a deep, shaky breath.

He knew this would hurt them, but he hoped they would understand.

This was really the only solution.

The conclusion settled in his mind as he lowered himself numbly back into the water, and instantly he was afraid.

What was waiting for him on the other side?

Heaven, Hell, purgatory, or nothing at all…Jonghyun didn’t care either way. Anywhere was better than here.

This was it though…this was really it.

Jonghyun found that the thought, though almost comforting, scared him.

He was done.

He started shaking harder now, though not from cold. This time, he was shaking out of fearful anticipation, and another emotion he couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t used to feeling, and especially not so many things at once.

This was too much to handle. Far too much.

It felt like his lungs were collapsing, and was it just him or was the air condensing around him? Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

Jonghyun gasped for breath as all of a sudden, every unfelt emotion, every concealed feeling , every restrained thought from the past few months came crashing down on him, crushing him under all its crippling weight.

Every shred of fear, every ounce of pain, every disappointment, every failure hit him with such force that the very air was knocked from his lungs, and his heart picked up double speed.

It was as if his body knew that it only had a few minutes left and was hurrying to get in a life time of feeling, of breathing, of heartbeats into the remainder of its time.

With trembling hands and a racing pulse, Jonghyun reached for his blade, allowing a few tears to slip from his eyes and race down his cheeks.

There was no point in fighting it anymore…relief was so, so close.

Just then, his phone buzzed from the small counter and stole his attention away from the task at hand.

Jonghyun didn’t have to check it know that it was an alarm he had set to remind himself that he had a project due in a week.

The pounding organ in his chest constricted painfully as he remembered that he hadn’t even started it yet, and a bitter, almost mocking thought passed through his mind, informing him that now he wouldn’t have to worry about doing it. His escape was in his hands, and that thought alone sent a fresh wave of tears through him.

He didn’t want things to be like this…he wanted it to be like things were a year ago, when he was happy with life, and looking forward to the future.

There had to be another way. There was some, quiet, lonely voice in the back of his mind that believed that. This couldn’t be the only way out.

Jonghyun summoned all the remaining energy he had and reached up for his phone as a last resort, knowing that this was his last hope.

He wasn’t sure if there was a god or not, but he sent up a silent prayer that for some bizarre reason, his best friend would still be awake.

Jonghyun dialed the familiar number and cradled the phone in his shaking hands as each drawn out ring played on his fraying nerves, putting him even more on edge.

Pick up, please, pick up.” He whispered, his voice trembling worse than his hands

“Hi this is Kibum-“

“Key, I need your help, I-“

“Please leave a message.”

Jonghyun’s frantic heart sank as he put his phone down and picked his blade back up.

One more try…The voice in the back of his begged him, please just one more try.

Silent sobs racking through his entire body, Jonghyun picked up his phone again and hit redial.

He didn’t even know what he would say if Kibum picked up, but as each elongated ring of the phone echoed inside his head, he began to doubt that would even be a problem.

“Hi this is Kibum. Please leave a message.” Came his friend’s mockingly cheery tone, and Jonghyun knew it was over.

"Kibumah...please, help me." Jonghyun choked out in a vain final attempt to save him from himself, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

He let his phone drop from his hand and hit the floor as he moved to pick up the small blade again.

Each one of his movements was elongated, as if he had suddenly been trapped in slow motion.

The rectangular piece of steel felt like ice in his hand, and Jonghyun was racked with uncertainty as he brought it to his wrist. He really didn’t know how to do this.

It wasn’t exactly something they taught in school, and even if it were, Jonghyun doubted he would have learnt it. He was far too deficient to learn anything.

He supposed it went a little like- oh.

Jonghyun bit down on his lip to stifle a whimper as he dragged the blade vertically down the length of his forearm, pushing the blade as deep as he could.

It hurt, fuck did it hurt, ripping his skin open, tearing down as far as he could possibly go, but an overwhelming sense of relief seemed to mask most of the pain.
He watched as all of his worries, his stress, and his problems faded away, just as the steam from the water had done, as they rolled down his arm in the form of crimson liquid and he let out a bittersweet smile.

Close…he was so close now…

His eyes began to droop shut, and he watched as the once clear water around him stained a brilliant scarlet, and an unattached thought floated through his mind, mildly surprised that his body actually held this much blood.

A thick black fog was beginning to steal over his mind, and for the first time in months, Jonghyun felt at peace.

In a few short moments, he’d have nothing more to worry about.

He felt a dull twinge of guilt as he thought about his parents, and his sister, and Kibum.

How would they react to this? And what would his best friend think when he woke up to his message?

Jonghyun guessed he’d never find out.

It was difficult now to form a coherent thought and Jonghyun felt his eyes close the rest of the way, but they didn’t feel attached to him anymore. Nothing did. It just felt like he was falling, drifting slowly down, down, down…and then…

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2:37 AM, finally finished :)
May be a few errors here and there, I haven't edited it yet, but I wanted to get this posted for all you lovely readers~
Comments are hugely appreciated^^

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPad.

The Last Stop

He waited on an empty bench as the station cleared and the clock chimed, signaling that it was now one o’clock am. The boy’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, sighing inaudibly as the display showed that it is his older brother calling. Taemin answered the call and immediately regretted it.
“Where are you?” The harsh voice of Taesun came from the other end of the line.
“I’m out, hyung…” Taemin muttered.
“Get home now. Mom is pissed.” Taesun warned.
Taemin sighed and hung up, not bothering to answer. His mother being angry was nothing new, he’d stopped caring a long time ago.
The tired teen shut off his phone and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cold, brick wall. He’d never get the chance to find out why his mother was so mad tonight. He didn’t plan on going home…

A voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing that the last train of the night would be making its last stop here in half an hour. Taemin took a deep breath. Only thirty more minutes of pain…

There was a shuffle of feet some thirty feet from him and he opened his eyes, looking around to locate the source of his noise. His eyes stopped on a boy who was standing by himself by the train tracks, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and looking down the tunnel.
“Are you waiting for the train?” Taemin asked, only slightly surprised by how hollow his voice sounded.
“Uhm…you could say that.” The other boy answered, wringing his hands nervously.
“It won’t be here for another half hour.” Taemin informed him numbly.
“Oh, thanks,” The boy muttered, “do you mind if I sit there?” he asked, gesturing to the empty space on the bench next to Taemin.
"Go for it...misery loves company." Taemin mused.

The boy gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which, as he looked into them, told Taemin everything. They had the same dead, haunted expression that he himself saw every time he visited the stranger in the mirror.

"Where are you heading?" Taemin asked, his voice mildly curious but his mind itching to confirm what he already knew.
The boy's smile faltered for a second before he replied.
"I'm heading to my grandparents for the week." He said. His tone was believable, but Taemin had been lied to enough to know when a falsehood was being presented.
"That's an awful long time to be away with no luggage." Taemin pointed out, again, his tone nothing more than polite.
The boy's eyes flickered down for a moment, as if he himself had forgotten that he didn't have anything with him.
"I have a lot of stuff already at their place," the boy stated, "I visit them all the time." Again, his voice radiated honesty, but he had hesitated just a second too long before answering.
The boy had been caught in a lie, and they both knew it. Taemin knew where the boy was really heading; his eyes gave everything away.

After a few seconds of contemplative silence, the boy spoke.
"So where are you off to?" The boy asked quietly.
"Same place you are." Taemin said bluntly, and the boy gave a small, understanding nod.

"I'm Minho." The boy said quietly, and recognition clicked in Taemin's head.
"You go to Seoul High, don't you?" Taemin asked, now remembering seeing the boy in the hallways a few time down in the senior wing.
"Yeah...do you?" Minho asked.
Taemin just nodded, not looking at the older boy.
"I don't see you around very much." Minho said.
"I don't go very much." Taemin admitted.
"Your parents don't care?" Minho asked incredulously.
"I haven't seen my dad in years and my mom couldn't give two shits about what I do." Taemin muttered bitterly.
"I wish I was in your position. My parents are so uptight; nothing I ever do is good enough for them." Minho muttered.
"You're lucky that they care at all." Taemin said dryly.
"I guess the grass is always greener, huh?" Minho quoted.
"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew where I stood." Taemin argued.
"I don't know, but...I could." Minho said, his tone changing to a lighter one, and just like that, Taemin was spilling his life story to this almost-stranger.

"My father upped and left when I was twelve, no warning, no note, nothing. We just came home to all his things having been removed and he was nowhere to be found. That destroyed my mom. She started drinking when she realized he wasn't coming back and probably hasn't seen a sober day since then. My brother is the golden child and a closet stoner. He's perfection in the eyes of my mom and everyone who meets him, and I'm just the other kid who can't measure up. Nothing I ever do is good enough, and my best just doesn't cut it. There's no point in putting any effort into anything, so a few years back I just stopped trying."

"I don't know what I expected to come from that, but it pissed my mom off. She started yelling at me over everything, and she blamed everything on me. When each one of her replacement boyfriends broke up with her, it was my fault. When she lost her job, it was my fault. When she found out my brother was into drugs, that was also my fault...I'd've left home ages ago but I have nowhere to go, no one who cares...no one who would miss me..." Taemin said, his voice trailing off into a low mutter by the end of it.

Minho had sat silently the whole time the younger was speaking, and as he saw that he had more or less finished, he gave him a speculating stare.
“You’re Taemin, aren’t you? Lee Taemin?” Minho asked quietly, and Taemin nodded slowly.
“I know your brother.” Minho said, answering Taemin's unasked question.
“I’m sorry things are like that,” Minho muttered, “but it must have been nice to have freedom…” he mused.
Taemin couldn’t help but let out a bitter scoff.
“Calling what I had ‘freedom’ is like calling a house cat a lion and leaving it at that.” He said, his voice void of any emotion.
Minho gave him a half smile and looked at the floor, scuffing his feet on the dirty concrete.

There were a few moments of reflective quiet before Taemin spoke, his voice shattering the silence.
“So what about you?” He asked, kicking Minho’s shoe lightly to get his attention.
Minho gave him a questioning stare in reply.
“What’s your reason for taking a one way ticket to Hell?” Taemin asked bluntly.
Minho blinked in mild surprise at Taemin’s wording, but took a deep breath and answered all the same.
“Really the opposite of you,” He started, letting out a breathy, humourless laugh, “people expect far too much of me, and I just can’t deal with the pressure anymore. All the sports coaches expect me to get scholarships, all the teachers are expecting me to finish first in every class, and as for my parents…well…as far as they’re concerned, it’s a top class university or nothing else. My brother is a highly successful lawyer in America, and my family expects the same if not better from me. They actually think I’m out right now delivering an early application to a university on the other side of the city…guess they’re in for a shock.” He said, and a bitter, almost mocking smile spread across his features.

“Did you ever try telling them that this isn’t what you want?” Taemin asked, wondering why such a lifestyle would really lead someone to end it.
“Did you ever try telling your mom that none of that was ever your fault?” Minho countered, not defensively.
Taemin was silent, but gave a small nod, understanding what the older boy was getting at.
“I’m done trying for the sake of others, and they crushed any dreams I may have had of my own…there’s really nothing left to stay for.” Minho mused quietly, and Taemin wondered if he was still trying to convince himself of that fact.
“Won’t they miss you?” Taemin wondered aloud.
“For a while, I suppose, but their lives will go on, they won’t let it deter them for long. They have things they need to get on with.” Minho answered simply.
“Surely you have friends though, you’re the captain of just about every sports team and club in the school, and they’ll care.” Taemin continued.
“They’re not really friends…they’re more…for lack of a better word, followers? That sounds harsh, but it’s true. They stood by my side to get a glimpse of glory, to be popular, to be in the ‘in crowd’, but the friendships are about as shallow as a kiddie pool. They really couldn’t care less. Oh, I’m sure they’ll act sad, but soon enough they’ll find another Mr. Popular to follow and order will be restored. I’m just sick of shepherding their little obsessions.” Minho explained, and Taemin once again nodded
“I guess that makes sense…I guess I always thought that things just seemed so much better where you stood. Looks like I was wrong.”
“I understand. Who would have guessed that having everything going for you really just meant that you have nothing to hold onto?” Minho asked, the rhetorical question hanging in the air around them as Taemin contemplated the older boy’s words.
“What about you? Don’t you have any friends?” Minho asked, and the bluntness of his words bounced right off of Taemin.
“Nope. I have no one. Who would care about the drop out brother of the infamous and perfect Lee Taesun?” Taemin questioned bitterly.

Minho opened his mouth to respond, but at that exact moment, the same monotonous voice came over the loudspeaker and told the last two passengers in the station that the final train of the night would be arriving in five minutes.

Taemin supposed he should have felt something at those words, adrenaline, fear, relief…but there was nothing. He was cold, numb, unfeeling, and ready to end it all. A few times, he had wondered where he would go before he came to the conclusion that he really didn’t care. Be it Heaven, Hell, purgatory, or just plain nonexistence, anywhere was better than here.

Minho, on the other hand, bit his lip and looked at the younger boy.
“Is this really it then?” He asked, and Taemin nodded silently.
“It’s over after this, isn’t it?”
“In all honesty Minho, if you’re here tonight, then it’s been over for a while.” Taemin said dully, and Minho closed his eyes, accepting this as the truth.

Without another word, both boys stood and walked down the edge of the tracks, closer to the tunnel and further away from where the train would actually be stopping, their footsteps the only source of noise in the deadened night.

Minho rocked back and forth of the balls of his feet while Taemin stood perfectly still, eyes closed as he let relief course through him. This was it. This was finally it. It would all be over soon.

Minho’s head whipped around at the same time as Taemin opened his eyes. Both boys had felt the same thing. The rumbling vibrations from the train making its way through the final, dark tunnel could be felt through the muddy ground as it shook beneath them.

Closer now, they could see the pinprick of light that was the headlight of the train.
Another few seconds still and the whistle sounded as the train came thundering towards them.
“Together then?” Minho breathed.
“Together.” Taemin confirmed.

Minho extended his hand to the younger boy, which Taemin took, silently grateful to have someone who understood to spend his final few seconds with.

“Ready?” Taemin whispered, and with one final nod, as the train was only fifty feet away now, both boys walked onto the tracks and looked unblinkingly into the blinding headlight of the speeding train, making its way towards the last stop of the night.

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Russian Roulette

            Taemin’s phone was the only thing apart from the dull, flickering streetlight that lit up the dark alley way as he checked the time, trying to keep his heartbeat under control. 2:03 AM. Behind his fear, Taemin couldn’t help but be a little annoyed. They had told him to be on time, and not a second late. They had warned him that there would be consequences…but he was playing by their rules now, and he knew that. He had to accept that if he wanted them to accept him.

There were only a few more minutes of elongated silence before the quiet footsteps sounded behind the young redhead, and Taemin spun around. In the dismal light, he could make out the gang members approaching him, eerie smiles pasted onto each of their faces.

“You came.” The leader, Jinki, said, polite surprise colouring his tone as his breath spilled out into the night air, forming a thin fog in the chill.

“You’re late.” Taemin countered, shocking himself at the confidence in his tone.

“You’re early.” Jinki replied simply, and irritation spiked through Taemin, but he didn’t let it show. He knew they were testing him, toying with his composure.

The gang’s leader took Taemin’s silence as a cue to continue on. “You’re sure you still want to do this?” He asked, his voice portraying nothing but honest curiosity and genuine concern, but Taemin knew better.

“You’ll kill me if I say no, won’t you.” Taemin said with bitter humour.

The elder boy let out a laugh. “I like you kid, you’re smart.” He grinned. Taemin couldn’t bring himself to return the gesture. Somehow the gang being here made it all the more real. Standing by himself in the night, his shadow the only one keeping him company, Taemin could almost believe that it was all fake, that he had made the whole thing up, and that one way or another, his life wasn’t about to drastically change. Now that the gang of boys that had opened up their arms to him had actually arrived, Taemin was having second thoughts. There was no going back. If he passed the test, he would be one of them for life, and if he failed…Taemin swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he failed this test.

There was a still second of silence before anyone spoke. It was one of the gang members whose voice polluted the quiet of the night. Taemin remembered his name being Jonghyun. Kim Jonghyun.

“Are we going to start? It’ll be better to get this over with.” Jonghyun said, his voice low, but Taemin didn’t miss the quiver of excitement that ran just beneath the surface of his tone. He was clearly anticipating what was to come.

Jinki was quiet for a second before answering. “Right. Let’s begin then. Minho, if you will.” He said, holding his hand out. A boy not much older than Taemin walked up from the back of the gang and placed something in the leader’s hand. Ice flooded Taemin’s veins as he saw the metal glint dully in the tenebrous light of the street lamp.

The leader let a cold smile steal across his face as he handed Taemin the revolver, which Taemin accepted with shaking hands. Before Taemin had a chance to ask any questions, Jinki spoke.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Russian Roulette.” He said, his tone now changing from the light one before to one that was all business. Taemin gave a sharp nod, determined not to show the others how terrified he was in that moment, even though he was sure they could hear his heart hammering against his ribcage as if it were set on escaping his body.

Jinki gave him an appraising look before continuing. “That is your test. It’s simple. One round, one bullet, one shot. You make it, you’re in. If you back out, you’re done. If you’re unlucky enough to…get the misfortunate shot, well…” Jinki trailed off, a feral grin on his lips.

Taemin nodded again, every ounce of his energy put into keeping his voice steady as he replied.

“Let’s do this.” He said, mock intrepidity lacing his voice.

His tone was cool and placid, but inside, Taemin’s thoughts buzzed around inside his head like an angry swarm of bees. He was really, really doing this. In a matter of seconds, he would either be a member of one of the most headstrong gangs in all of Seoul, or he’d breathe his last. Taemin was only imperceptibly aware of how shallow his breathing had actually become, and his sweating palms felt as if they were detached from his body. Every nerve and natural instinct in his body was screaming at him to run, to tell them that they were crazy, and that he quit…but there was one shred of psychotic apprehension that whispered in the back of his mind, forcing him to stay.

Jinki took a step back, and the rest of the gang mimicked his action.

“Ready?” He asked. His voice was calm, but it was oscillating with excitement.

Taemin gulped, nodding.

“Ready as I’ll ever be…” Taemin mumbled, his entire body going numb.

“Then let’s begin. On my count.” Jinki said, clearing his throat.

“Three…”  Jinki's voice seemed to echo as he spoke, and Taemin cocked the gun, spinning the barrel and  placing it against his temple.
"Two..." The leader said, his voice seeming more distant this time, as Taemin broke out into a cold sweat. Suddenly, everything he'd never gotten around to doing in his short life flooded his mind, and he was griped with regret...but it was too late now...much too late. Taemin squeezed his eyes shut as the barrel still spun, and he placed his finger on the trigger.
"One." Jinki said, and with a twitch of his muscles, Taemin pulled the trigger.

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my first completed fanfic ever c:  be nice please?

The Stranger in the Mirror


Running, flying, no, not flying; falling. Down, tumbling down as I fled. Fled? No. Persued. That's right, I was chasing something, wait, that wasn't right. Someone, I was chasing someone...or...were they chasing me? Were they even running?
I was confused, but I knew that I needed to run. The other person that was in this perculiar game of cat-and-mouse was in danger, or...were they the threat? I wasn't sure.
Shaking my head, I got up and continued running, moving so fast that I couldn't feel the ground beneath me.

I rounded a corner and ducked impulsively into an alley. I slowed my pace but didn't stop moving. They were close; I could feel it. There! I walked by a shattered mirror that was lying on the ground and caught a glimpse of the one I was chasing.
That's when it all came back to me: they were a threat and they needed to be stopped, eliminated.
I bent down and grabbed a large shard of the mirror, holding it in front of me like a weapon. ,
he that's right, it was a young man, was close...very close.

I approached the dark, back corner of the alley slowly. I couldn't see him, but I could hear his deep, rattling breaths. He knew what I was here for, even if I didn't.
His foor must have shifted because there was a crunch of gravel and just like that his location was given away.
Without hesitating, I stabbed into the dark blindly, letting out an animalistic scream. A cry of pain tore from his lips and broke the silence and I knew that I had hit my mark. Blood soaked my hands and I collapsed to the ground, the shard of mirror digging deeper into my chest. I caught a final glimpse of my face in the mirror, my eyes were both wild and satisfied, before the night faded before my eyes and I took my final breath.

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This isn't anything serious really...this is just what I write when I don't do my English homework which apparently we do need to do, and am otherwise forced to entertain myself for 75 minutes~

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