Remember Me? 1/2 {TWOSHOT}
Title: Remember Me? 1/2 {TWOSHOT}
Pairing focus: Key/Minho, faux!(Key/Jonghyun), Minho/Jonghyun
Genre: Psychological issues, Character death
Rating: PG-15(for creep factor and murder)
Word count: 7,217
Summary: I’m sorry for having let you down, baby, so won’t you come back to me? Doesn’t matter where we are, or what we do, so long we have each other. That’s right, you and me, back in the old days, drinking to our hearts’ content and having drunk, crazy sex. Aside from all our little spats and fights- baby, don’t look at me like that- you know I love you. You know you love me too. I’m sorry for what I did, so won’t you come back to me? Baby, he’s nothing compared to you, honest. Come back to me and we’ll go ruining our lives together in a glorious world of Technicolor, whilst dipping into a pool of sweet, sweet love.
Disclaimer: Major fail!summary is fail. In short, Minho wants his Kibum again. Unbeta-ed, as are all of my works. SHINee’s Obsession is on loop for this.
A/N - First time writing this kind of fic. I feel a little unoriginal, though, what with all the psychological problems/creepy fics popping up everywhere these days, even if I thought of this plot a long time ago. Comments and criticism are gladly welcome, and I’m sorry for the approaching fail ahead. Please do comment if you guys want a sequel for this, I’m really apprehensive about the reactions I’m gonna get from you guys about this one. ><
Everything is different without you around.
It’s been two years, and I’m still thinking about you this typical autumn’s morning. I’m laying in bed with my eyes shut tight, one hand thrown over my face in an attempt to block out the early rays of the sun. Jonghyun’s apparently forgotten to draw the curtains last night before he went to bed. The light irritates me, but I don’t get up to plunge the room into darkness again. I smile slowly at myself; if you were still mine, you’d have pushed me off the bed with your skinny legs to make me draw the curtains. Fucking hell, it’s too early to be woken up by the sun. Fucking get up and make the sun go away, Minho, it’s your fault the curtain’s not shut in the first place, you’d groan. Of course, I’d oblige to my princess, but not without a few curses on my part at nothing in particular.
As I feel blindly around the bed, trying to find something that I could use to cover my eyes with (and get back to that amazing dream I was having about us two), the bed suddenly sinks at either sides of me. I scrunch my eyes open in confusion, and meet with a pair of chocolate puppy-eyes, just a few inches away from my face. It was a sudden intrusion of my personal space, but at least he’s blocking out the light for me. Oh, and I forgot to introduce him to you, baby, this man is Kim Jonghy- silly me, we’re not together anymore, so why do I bother introducing my current boyfriend to you? In my head, no less.
“Good morning,” breathes Jonghyun, his lightly chiseled face carrying a sunny smile. I stifle the urge to groan; he doesn’t need to know how much I hate energetic mornings. Just like how you hate them too.
“Hey, you.” I lift my arms slightly above my head to stretch, flashing a tired smile at him. Big mistake. Jonghyun takes the opportunity to wind the tie in his hands loosely around my wrists, effectively tying my hands together. I wake up a bit more now, and narrow my eyes at him playfully.
“What’s this, babe?”
Jonghyun shrugs, giving me yet another bright grin. “I don’t really know, but since I’ve got a little free time before I have to go to work..” He leans down to cover my mouth with his warm lips, sighing into the kiss and slowly trailing his strong fingers up and down my bare side. I shiver at the sudden heated touch of his body in contrast with the cool air of our room, and out of habit, my mouth grants access to Jonghyun’s tongue.
It’s the early hours (because only you would count eight thirty as being too early), and what we’re doing right now seems to be a little re-run of last night’s lovemaking. His hands are already teasing the band of my boxers half a minute into the make-out, and his tongue leads the dance that’s happening inside my mouth. I try not to mind as a clothed bulge brushes against the inside of my thighs, causing me to rub myself against him with slow want. His hands, now adding to the tent that was building up in my boxers, pause just above my balls, and the pad of his thumbs smooth over them in little circles. I hear myself making lewd noises, and somewhere at the back of my mind, I feel disgusted with myself. Why am I being like that, when I know all of this isn’t you?
Jonghyun straddles me, with one hand clumsily undoing the knot that has my hands bound together, and the other working on releasing my erection. As much as I want him to stop caressing my member oh-so-gently with those sinful hands of his, the pool of pleasure lapping at my insides try to convince me otherwise. I shake my head discreetly, trying not to gasp as I feel his fingers curling around my base, instead attempting to concentrate on how uncomfortable he was feeling on top of me. I was never made for the bottom, save for the few times you wanted to try topping me. Because you were my princess, I obliged without complaint. I was never made for the bottom at all, until I met Jonghyun.
“Babe, l-let’s stop this,” I stammer, contradicting myself at the same time by pushing his head further down again after his teeth graze erotically at my length.
“You don’t act like it,” he smirks, words muffled as he attempts to talk from being around me. Fuck, it feels so good-
“Y-you’re gonna be late.” This time, I sit up a little straighter, curling my legs to my sides and pushing him down onto the bed in a swift motion, holding his shoulders and catching him by surprise. I laugh breathlessly at his disappointed pout, and plant a harsh kiss on his lips. I briefly taste myself, mixed with Jonghyun’s coffee-and-cigarette laced breath. I stumble out of bed, dragging on my abandoned boxers haphazardly, stretching once again as I walk to the bathroom, ignoring his whines of protest at my sudden departure. I chide myself silently at how I pushed him, though; after all, Jonghyun isn’t you, he isn’t used to rough sex like how we were, baby.
My, my, Minho. You’ve got early morning sex on a plate, and yet you push it away? I freeze, glaring unseeingly at the mirror, toothbrush still in my mouth.
Fuck off, Taemin.
I’d rather fuck you, my darling. Although watching you fuck Jonghyun would be good too--
Shut up.
Touchy this morning, darling. Kibum wouldn’t like you like this so early, hmm?
Shut up, Taemin.
You want him back, don’t you?
The voice thankfully melts away as the sight of a mildly disheveled Jonghyun greets me at the dining table, absorbed in reading that morning’s papers. I spy the sumptuous breakfast laid out on the table, and widen my eyes, making a beeline for it. Jonghyun looks up at the scraping of my chair, and sticks out an arm to ruffle at my hair.
“Good morning, babe.” I was the one who did all the hair-ruffling and initiating the good mornings to you. It feels different to have someone do it to me like how I did to you, almost every day.
“Didn’t you tell me that already just now?” I smile as best as I can around a mouthful of egg sandwiches, washing it down with a gulp of orange juice. I’m still not used to being surprised with daily breakfast on the table, courtesy of Jonghyun. I’m usually the one who has to get up in the early afternoons (when we both don’t work) to whip up something simple for you, because as you insist, lunch is not lunch without breakfast. Whatever that meant. Baby, do you remember when was the last time we had breakfast without a healthy dose of tequila?
Don’t be an ungrateful fuck by thinking about Kibum, darling. Jonghyun’s done so much more than that little bitch has ever done for you, hmm?
Go away, Taemin, stop looking into my head.
Stupid boy, your head is my head. You are me, and I am you. There’s no ‘you’ and ‘me’ when it comes to the two of us.
My name isn’t Taemin.
“Babe?” Jonghyun is for some reason looking at me weirdly, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He folds up his newspaper with a rustling sound. The sound of newspapers rustling contrasts greatly with the crooning of your favorite singers on the stereo in the morning, baby.
“Yeah?”
“I was talking to you while you were zoning out, silly. But nothing important, it’s just that I have to go to work right now.” Jonghyun stands up, picking his black suit jacket off the back of the chair and slipping it on. My heart drops, and I stand up too, closing the remaining distance between us with a single stride.
“Your tie,” I mumble, looping the satin neatly around his neck. He scrunches up his nose at me as I dramatically stoop lower to finish tying it for him, and I tap at his nose. “Stupid dinosaur.”
“Why’d you have to be so tall,” he whines, taking hold of my hands while simultaneously using my eyes as a makeshift mirror to check out his reflection. “Do I look presentable for my meeting today?”
I make a non-committal noise at the back of my throat, closing my eyes on purpose to avoid him using them as mirrors again. I’m sorry, Jonghyun, but that’s what Kibum always does to me before he goes out too, only much more narcissistic.
Motherfucker, tell your “stupid dinosaur” that he looks perfect, as always. Tell him like you always told that bitch.
Kibum isn’t a bitch, my head shouts back at him, but I find my lips forming the exact words Taemin has asked of me. “Perfect, as always.” I feel an unseen force unkindly twisting at my head, pushing it lower so my lips can press themselves against his. I fight the urge to back away; I hate how the taste of Jonghyun’s cigarettes makes me miss the constant taste of sweet alcohol and gummy bears on your breath so much.
Thinking about him whist kissing Jonghyun, hmm? Tut, tut.
“Do you really have to go?” I ask, as I break away from him. I watch as his eyes widen in mild shock, and immediately my hand flies to my mouth. I didn’t mean to talk so loudly. I just wanted to drown Taemin out.
“Whoa, relax, babe.” His fingers rub at my shoulder blades, attempting to smooth out the stiff muscles. “I’m sorry, but I really have to get going now, it’s already nine.” His hands migrate to hover lightly on my hips, staring beseechingly into my eyes, as if to ask for forgiveness.
“It’s okay, just go.” I give him a mechanical smile, and pat at his butt. He grins happily, standing on his tiptoes to peck at my cheek before grabbing at his briefcase. You see, baby, he’s different from you. He puts his work before me, even after I told him I took the day off specially to spend time with him. Baby, you wouldn’t do that to me, right? You’d put down your camera and tripod stand in a heartbeat and come right back to bed with me if I asked you to, free day or not.
“That’s my Minho. I’ll call you at lunch, okay?” He fixes his shoelaces into a lazy knot, and then dashes back one last time to touch his pillowy lips to my own.
“Got it. Hurry up now, or Mr. Lee’s gonna have your neck again,” I tease, pushing him steadily out of the door. He stops, though, just three steps shy of the entrance. He turns to look at me, and I feel myself heat up self-consciously. “What now?”
“Don’t forget to take your medicine, okay?” His eyes rake at my face, searching for some sign of agreement in all seriousness. I reluctantly nod, and give him a final push out the door. I catch his fleeting smile, before the echo of the closing door resounds around our wide apartment.
“Get the fuck out of here, right now.” I remain still, rooted to the spot. I know that you’re not kidding, the way hot tears slide down your pale cheeks, with you not making an effort to wipe them off. Jonghyun’s long gone by now, thrown out by you after he’s tried to make a futile explanation.
I’m woozy, and something warm and sticky trickles from my temple, running down the sides of my face as I stumble toward you, hands outstretched, wanting so much to take you into my arms and wipe off all the pain you feel right now. Before I can even touch you, your arms fly out, and I withdraw slowly, face stinging dully with the impact of the slap.
“Don’t touch me, after you touched that fucker.” You spit out the last two words, and despite how much guilt I’m feeling towards you right now, I feel an unnecessary surge of anger wash through me.
“Don’t talk about him like that, what you saw isn’t what it’s supposed to be-“ I’m cut off with your mirthless cackle, and you sink onto the floor.
“What’s it supposed to be, then? I come home, and the first thing I see is the two of you, making out like the sick fucks you two are, on OUR bed, with the lights OFF. Or did my eyes fuck with me?”
“You don’t see me complaining about you being with..” I pause, shuddering slightly at the effort to say the names. “Dongwoon, Mir, Woohyun, even Heechul hyung.. I saw you today, with him. What’s that all about, then?”
Kibum has the decency to flush lightly, before allowing his anger to come back at me, full force. “You know how I act around everybody. Heechul-hyung was being friendly as per usual. At least with everyone you’ve mentioned, I’ve never so much as fucking kissed them, the way you do Jonghyun.”
“I didn’t-“
“You know what, Minho? Fuck this. Fuck us. Fuck everything. I should’ve known we weren’t right from the start, fighting almost every fucking day of our lives. I’m done.” Kibum stands up, tears blurring his eyes, trying to shove past me, and I grab at his wrists desperately.
“We were happy every day, too. Remember?”
His cold eyes were the last thing I saw of his beautiful face before he walked out. “No. Goodbye, Minho.”
My smile wavers, and I make my way back to the dining table. I sit down slowly, shoveling bits of the spread on the table into my mouth, not actually tasting it. Suddenly, the house feels too empty without Jonghyun’s presence, and smells a little too much like me. Jonghyun’s scent is gone, and I smell a lot like you. I push away my plate and trudge into our room; the sandwiches and juice don’t seem so appealing any more.
I pull on a sky-blue striped button-up with sleeves folded just up to my elbows, and a pair of black skinny jeans with the slightest of rips at the upper thighs. It's not my style at all, of course; these are just clothes you forced me to buy, as are most of my better clothes in the wardrobe. Yeobo, you just can't not buy this shirt, it's amazing on you- oh, and those jeans! Come on, you know how much I like it when your ass looks completely fuckable. Please, yeobo, please? And I do get them, no matter how much of an impact the price tags have on my wallet. Anything for my princess.
Is that bitch all you have on your mind, darling? Taemin tuts, and I recoil from myself, if that's even possible.
"For the last time, he isn't a bitch, Taemin. And fuck off."
Talking to your head aloud right now are we? Then he's a goddamn dirty whore. Why do you think of him so much when all he's ever done is break your heart?
"I've broken his too." I resist the urge to bang my head crazily at the plaster to make Taemin go away. Jonghyun's words float into my mind like a lifesaver just then, and I grab at the chance.
Some of the little pink-and-white pills- your favorite color, baby, do you like them?- fall into my cupped hand as I tip the bottle shakily, causing some of the little oblong shapes to bounce onto the kitchen linoleum. I ignore the jarring noises of falling pills and concentrate on counting out three of them for consumption. It's one more than my usual amount, but I'm not about to bring them out to lunch with me. Not as if I'm planning to eat anything, but still.
What are you doing? Taemin asks. I stiffen at the sudden accusative tone of his voice.
"Making you fuck off. See these? I know you can see them, since you say you're me." I pour out a glass of water and give the pills in my hand a little shake.
You wouldn't take them. Taemin's voice is light, but I hear mockery behind it.
"What makes you think so?" Before I know what I'm doing, my arms transport the pills into my mouth, and I recoil at the bitter, plastic-y taste of the little oblong shapes. I hastily grab at the water and wash them down with long, desperate gulps. Baby, see? I'm being good, I'm not even saying anything about how much I hate pink when I eat these. See?
Have fun without Kibum in your head anymore too, then. Taemin's voice, as I hoped it to be, is slowly fading away, but his last words strike cold in my heart.
"What do you mean, Taemin? Taemin?"
His voice gives off a high-pitched giggle. Taking the pills make me go away, yes, but you wouldn't remember your precious little bitch, either.. Taemin's voice echoes in my head, and I clutch at it with one hand, the other slamming its fist onto the counter-top.
I don't answer him, but I'm sprinting to the bathroom as fast as I can, kneeling in front of the porcelain bowl and sticking two harsh fingers down my throat, watching with slightly burning eyes as part of my breakfast comes up with those horrible, horrible pills. I make the vilest, retching sounds, hazily drawing out a memory of me holding your shoulders gently as you puke away your hangovers. Those were great memories, despite the way you cried so much because you hate vomiting, baby. My mouth taste like shit, but I make no move to get up from my collapsed position on the floor and wash it. I'm shaking slightly, and every so often I crawl to the bowl to spit; my saliva is a sick, sticky orange. I don't feel like getting up, but Taemin makes a reappearance.
Good boy. Why're you sitting here like the pathetic fucker you are? Didn't you want to get out of this place and go somewhere with more people, so you can avoid being alone? I detect the condescending break in Taemin's childish voice.
I'm not avoiding being alone. I don't want to be alone with only you. I'm talking to him in my head again because my mouth feels too foul to be used right now. Baby, if you were here, you'd never make me take them if I didn't want them to, hmm? You'd tell me about the voices you have in your head too, when you're drunk, right? Then this little Taemin and your voice can be friends and go the fuck away, leave us alone and-
Stupid, why the hell would I want to make friends with that whore?
His voice, not him. Stop calling him a whore, Taemin.
For the last time, Choi, Taemin hisses, and for some reason I feel myself curling slightly into a ball, as if I'm afraid of his little tantrums. I'm not another person because I'm goddamn you. That little bitch's voice is also him, so why would I want to talk to him?
You're making no sense. Fuck, even the voice in my head sounds like a pussycat. Baby, you'd know how to get him to fuck off, right?
Get up and go out, Minho, I want to see the outside. Taemin's voice reverts back to its kiddy lilt. I drag myself up to get to the sink, and rinse my mouth with some water before using a generous amount of mouthwash. Once done, I douse my face in cool tap water before looking into the mirror again. I look like shit, what with the dark circles from my sleepless night. I also look hollow, and the way the light reflects off the tiny water droplets makes me look so much worse. You can't go out like that, yeobo! You'd shriek in horror, and start pulling me to our kitchen, where you'd pick from your endless array of beauty products to make me presentable. I shrug at myself one last time before slouching off to dry my face and giving my teak waves a few tugs with the comb. You're not here for me to pretty myself up for, baby, so why bother?
I'm sorry, Jonghyun. I don't mean not to listen, but I still want to see my princess.
I’m in town right now, and I shiver slightly as the wind slithers itself around my torso, entering by invading the little openings of my button-up. My thighs thankfully feel nothing, and in spite of Taemin telling me to walk faster to keep warm, I slow down, my feet turning into lumbering sticks, the way I’m used to walking now that I don’t have you dragging me everywhere all the time.
Having not bothered with a coat or jacket of any sort, I embrace the warmth of the quaint toy shop as I step into it, carefully closing the door behind me with a little tinkle of the bell. I’m not sure why I picked here out of all the other shops I could wander around whilst getting warmed up, but I find myself trailing my fingers along the aluminum, sometimes stopping at a particular box of toys or figurine to admire it before moving on.
There’s no one else in the shop, save for a slim girl with a waterfall of stygian cascading down the arch of her back as she hunches over slightly, reading a book at the shop front. I pay no attention to her, and focus on a Mr. Potato figurine, tucked away at the top of the deepest shelves. I reach out for it, mildly asking myself the reason for doing so, and bring it down to look at it properly. Mr. Potato isn’t an attractive toy, what with its funky baby-pink ears sticking out obstinately on the side of its head, busy eyebrows, oversized eyes, a mustache the size and shape of a ballerina’s skirt and a slightly twisted mouth. It’s meant to be comical, but I find no joy looking at him with his arms stitched akimbo. I’m about to put it back again, shaking my head at my random actions, when a considerable swell of realization laps at my brain, causing me to hug it tight and whack at my temple with the back of my hand. Silly me, it’s you who loves looking at Toy Story and shit so much, especially this guy here. How could I have forgotten your favorite?
I follow the string slowly with my fingers to meet with the attached price-tag, mouthing at its cost in amazement to myself. A big-fat ninety-seven; how could a goddamn piece of plastic be worth that much? You don’t listen, do you, stupid? The bitch always said this was limited edition. Remember how much he wanted it?
“Go away,” I mumble, feeling in my pockets for a wallet and peeling apart the leather separations to look at the amount of cash I have on me. I’m only looking at a few hundred that’s supposed to last me through the next two weeks before I get paid again, but I’m walking over to the counter with a blank expression on my face.
“One Mr. Potato, limited edition, is that all-?” The girl looks at me properly now, as do I to her, and both our lips curl in to tiny smiles of recognition. She’s Yuri, one of my ex-girlfriends from before I found Kibum. I’d lost touch with her ever since I had you, baby, because I know how much you hate it when I talk to other girls so much. Reminds you of how you turned me gay, huh? Ouch- Stop hitting me like that, you know I’m just kidding. I’m gay only for you.
“Minho?” Her face is alight with elation as she reaches out to touch my hand. Out of habit, I withdraw slightly, and I watch with growing guilt as her eyes take on a hint of disappointment. I hastily clear my throat, stretching out to cover her fingers with my own.
“Yuri. How long has it been? I mean, since we talked.” I scuff my foot on the carpeted floor before continuing. “How are you?”
“About five years or so, you know.. I’m doing good. Where’s, you know, him?” Her eyes dart carefully around the shop, searching for signs of Kibum, as she eases her hand out from under mine.
“He’s not here.”
“Oh,” she sighs in relief, not bothering about the open cash register as I place a hundred on the plastic surface. “Then where’s he n-“
“We’re not together anymore.” I cut her off, smiling at her, but only with my mouth.
Tut, tut, Minho, doesn’t it hurt to remember how he left you?
Yuri lowers her eyes, cheeks ablaze with a light vermillion of apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’s alright,” I wave airily at her, ignoring the slight tender pulls at my heartstrings. An idea floats into my mind now that the purchase is done; I still don’t want to be alone. “Listen, what time does your shift end?”
“Anytime I want to, I guess? This is my uncle’s shop.”
“Keen to get out now?”
“I don’t know..”
“Come on, we haven’t talked in ages.” You just don’t want to be alone, you manipulative twat.
“Alright.”
~
Yuri’s coated arm is looped through the crevice the crook of my arm has created, with my hands shoved into the depths of my jean pockets as we stroll leisurely down the streets, close enough so that our hips occasionally brush against each other. Every so often, I free my other hand by passing over the bag to my pocketed one to brush away the autumn leaves snagged in the wool of her plain white beanie, and every so often, I catch a replay of the light blush that colors her cheeks when I do so. Baby, I’m not feeling anything towards her, alright? I just really, really care for her, honest- I mean, you should know that I met her when I was eight, when she still lived near my old home, right?
“Are you single, now?” I playfully nudge at her side with my hip, causing her to lose her balance slightly, and my free hand goes around us both to support her.
“Minho, that was totally not nice of you,” she scolds gently, pushing her fringe out of her eyes.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Yes.”
“Seriously? An angel like you?” I’m not overly exaggerating; Yuri’s only gotten prettier since her teenage years. Her old shoulder-length cut has been done away with and dyed back a jet black, curled to perfection. She’s lost some of the baby fat on her cheeks, and her skin is amazing, almost completely flawless. Relax, baby, yours is still the best.
“Stop overly-complimenting me, oppa,” she blushes, getting held back by me as I stop suddenly in-front of a boutique. “What, you want to go in there?”
“Mmm. I want to get something for my boyfriend..” I’m not exactly lying; I’ve just omitted the word ‘ex’ in front of the boyfriend. You wouldn’t actually get to have this, baby, but it’s better to get it as a surprise for you, just in case we do have each other again, isn’t it.
“Ah, you’re dating someone else now?” Yuri’s pink lips form a tiny donut as she bows awkwardly at me for having held the door open for her.
“Y-yeah. Kim Jonghyun. I doubt you’ve ever heard of him, though. He’s an accountant.” I shrug, and head straight for the sunglasses section. There’s this one pair I know you’ll love to have, and it’s in leopard-print.
“Wow, that’s a.. jump.” I know what Yuri means, but I’m pushing reality into the darkest corners of my mind, where Taemin can’t possibly drag them back up. But then again, maybe he can. I shake my head infinitesimally and hold up the sunglasses to her. “Good?”
“Very.” She takes the glasses from my hand and twirls it around, observing it at every angle before giving it back to me. “Good, but, are you sure that’s this Kim Jonghyun’s style? From what I heard, accountants don’t often wear such flashy things, you know,” she says uncomfortably with a little laugh, studying me.
“My Jonghyun’s different; he likes this stuff. He likes wearing the weirdest stuff when we go out clubbing on weekends, you know,” I say carelessly, going up to the snobby woman at the front desk to ask for a new pair. It’s a fucking two hundred bucks, I’m informed, but I just smile brightly and pat at my pockets reassuringly. She sniffs at the two of us disdainfully, but otherwise trots off to the back room to search for a new pair. It’s a bit rich of you to say ‘my’ Jonghyun, isn’t it, Minho? But I suppose he is, since you’re dating him for me and I like him..
You’re making no sense again. I glare at the floor before looking up at Yuri again, because she’s having yet another apprehensive look on her face.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“No, nothing.” She wrings her wrists slowly, avoiding my gaze by looking at a deep purple scarf that’s draped aristocratically around a mannequin. She fingers the material, and then lets it slide through her fingers again.
“Yuri, I know it’s not nothing. Tell me, why don’t you?” I spin her around to face me again, trying to look into the depths of her eyes to figure out what’s wrong. I’m shocked to see underlying fear in all that burnt sienna, and drop my hands from her waist.
“You know he’s not Kibum, right?” Her words, however soft, hit at my heart in the form of sharp icicles. Aww, Yuri noona is smart, isn’t she, Minho-hyung?
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I not know who my boyfriend is?” I save myself further shit by rifling through my wallet for the money and pushing it into the woman’s surprised hands. So generous towards the little bitch? You’ve got Jonghyun to take care of now, you know.
He’s not a bitch, Taemin, I sigh tiredly, taking the box from the skeptic saleslady. With a hasty bow, I drag myself and Yuri out of the shop.
“What was that.. Taemin all about?” Yuri has again shaken herself free of my hold, rubbing at her arms lightly. I wince; I must have held her too tight, baby. Have I ever done that to you, by the way? I’m sorry if I have.
“T-taemin?” I must have spoken aloud without her knowing. Yuri looks really frightened now, and she looks as if she’s about to bolt. “Nah, he’s just a friend I’m gonna invite over for dinner today, together with Jonghyun,” I fib. “You want to come?”
“No, no. I’ll pass.” Her eyes shift uncomfortably, and once again she’s talking to her shoes. “Listen, Minho oppa, I have to get back right now, my uncle’s probably wondering where I am. Stay safe around town, alright? And.. take care.” She shuffles forward to give me an awkward hug before swiftly retracing our footsteps back to the shop. “You have my number, right?” Her voice carries back to me by the wind, and with a final, tentative smile, she turns the corner street.
I do have her number, but I’m not about to use it. She doesn’t need to know how much I miss you, huh, baby?
God, idiot, you’ve scared her away. Why’d you go talking to yourself aloud anyway?
You spoke to me first.
No, you spoke to yourself. Stop thinking about that bitch, will you?
~
It’s ten in the evening right now, and I’m missing you more than ever. I’ve been alone since I met Yuri a little while ago, baby, and now with only Taemin for company. Don’t leave me again, will you?
Stupid son of a bitch, he’s already left you a whole two years ago.
I remember now, Taemin. You don’t have to remind me. No, wait, that doesn’t make any sense.
I’m sluggishly downing the last of my strawberry-and-lime tequila (straight from the bottle, just like how you like your favorite), leaning on the dusty brick walls of this godforsaken alley that we so loved to visit. Oh yes, sweetheart; remember how we stumbled out of Shockz and Thongs one Friday night, right into this alley, and had one of the first best fucks of our entire lives? You know, I can still see our names, burnt faintly into the walls with a stray cigarette after you’ve finished writing them on the surface with you drink. Remember how you licked at the wall, just for good luck, and kissed me like there was no tomorrow? I complained it was disgusting, yes, but you told me to never call anything that has our love on it disgusting. Look, here it is - Kibum’s Minho, 23rd September 2009. I remember now; that day was your birthday too, wasn’t it? Good times, baby, good times. Which reminds me, it’s one and a half hours to this year’s birthday for you. I would give away everything I have just to hold you again, right here. I got you presents, baby, do you want to see?
It’s 11:45PM now, baby. Just another fifteen minutes more. Jonghyun’s been calling me for awhile now, but I don’t want to pick up. My head hurts with Taemin yelling at me non-stop for having ignored Jonghyun like that, but I don’t care. My drink’s long gone, and my mouth is bitter without the taste of you in it, but I don’t care. I’m getting a lot of weird stares from the party-goers around here, but I understand - what man who’s able to afford bags of branded goods would sit slumped against a brick wall in a dirty alley, drunk out of his mind? Baby, I hear the whispers. They call me crazy, I know, but after all, I’m only crazy for you. I don’t care. I’m crazy enough to wait for you out here, till you come out of our haven and see me. I want to pass you your presents. I want to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow, to taste you again, to hold my world again. I don’t need anyone else; Jonghyun, or Taemin, or Yuri, or anyone, baby. I just need you.
Midnight, cackles Taemin. He’s not here for you to sing happy birthday to, isn’t it, darling? There’s only me, you, and dear Jonghyun on the line.
He’ll come out for me, just wait and see. He will.
That ungrateful bitch has already long forgotten about you, darling. It’s 12:13PM right now, and has that fag shown his ass? No.
He’ll come. He’s just partying away his special day, that’s all. He doesn’t know I’m out here Taemin, he doesn’t know I still think about him-
The senseless ramble in my head is cut short by an obnoxious bang of double doors belonging to Shockz and Thongs. I look up just in time to see a head of multicolored highlights dance gaily out of the club, with one thin, milky arm wrapped loosely around his taller companion’s waist. I squint a little, because the strobe lights in the club honestly blinded me a little in my alcohol-induced stupor. Taemin draws a sharp breath, and my heart stops the minute the doors clang shut again, the last of the lights reflecting harshly on the skinnier man’s teeth. I hear him laugh, and my fist curls unconsciously around the fabric sticking to my chest; I’d recognize it anywhere. Kibum.
“Baby, happy birthday!” I stand up and shout in a hurry, my bags falling haphazardly on the dirty concrete as I wave my arms wildly, eyes smarting slightly. I can’t believe it; you’re here, like I wished so hard for, for me to say happy birthday to.
What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I ignore Taemin’s low snarl and begin walking unsteadily toward you. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I chant to myself, heart hammering wildly against my ribcage. Every step seems like eternity when I’m walking toward my princess, even if he’s got his arm around someone else.
Before I can come out from the shadows of out alley to greet you, however, I witness your companion put his arms around your waist and lift you up, spinning you around as if you belong to him. I’m frozen into place, my lips trembling slightly. Baby, why aren’t you protesting? Why aren’t you making him put you down, aren’t you my princess? I want to run out and take you away from him, but I can’t; something is holding me rooted to the ground.
Your voice drifts gently in the cool night breeze toward me, a sweet melody of breathless laughter. It’s enough for me to break free of the hold that thing (Taemin?) has on me, to take another step toward you. I’m waving my arms numbly, a smile frozen on my face. I miss you so much, baby-
“I, Kim Kibum, love my pabo, Lee Jinki.” Your strawberry lips pout prettily as your arms around his neck pull you toward the other man’s face, and you plant a loud kiss on his lips.
He brushes a hand through your hair and lets out a carefree chuckle that strikes red-hot into my heart, causing my eyes to sear and the sight before me to mold into a painful kaleidoscope of colors. “Happy birthday, my princess.”
I can take it no longer, and I bolt, gathering the bags up messily in my arms and running as fast as I can away from the two of you. It doesn’t matter where I’m going, so long as he’s not around you. I’m blatantly ignoring the feisty shouts of the public whom I’ve rammed into by accident and working my legs as hard as I can, shoving through the sea of plain faces, not seeing anything properly. I run till my head feels like it’s about to explode, stuttering to a stop on an empty sidewalk. I’m gasping for air on all fours, and I feel like I’m drowning, but all the pain I’m experiencing right now cannot be compared to how much it hurt to see you be with someone else.
He’s not your princess now, you know. I give a useless shout of frustration at the return of Taemin’s voice, very much not out of breath. Of course; I did all the running and crying, all he needed to do was the watch the show.
Why, Taemin? I thought we were happy together. He’s known that Jinki guy for a much shorter time compared to what we shared.
You two fought everyday, darling. He doesn’t want you anymore. Go back home to Jonghyun like you promised him you would; Kibum’s not yours anymore.
Fuck Jonghyun. I want Kibum. I want him, I want him, I want him.
He’s not going to come back to you anymore, motherfucker. Get up and go home to Jonghyun. That slut is whoring himself away to someone else now. He’s not worthy of your thoughts anymore.
“DO NOT CALL HIM A SLUT!” I jump involuntarily, despite me being the one shouting all of a sudden, wincing at the anxious squawk of birds flapping away frantically into the night. I’m useless, isn’t it, baby? That’s why I couldn’t stop you from leaving me and being with someone else. I’m not strong enough to keep you happy with me. I’m not even strong enough to stop Taemin from talking shit about you.
You want him back so much? I stare numbly at the concrete, ears on high alert at the obvious oily tone that Taemin’s voice has taken on.
Yes. With all my heart.
I can help you get him back, darling.
Why? Don’t you hate him? I’m talking to Taemin slowly now, hardly believing that he’s said this. I want his help, of course, I want anybody’s help. But when it comes from Taemin, I’m treading on eggshells while waiting for him to speak.
Of course I do. But I rather him to come back to you, even if it’s only a little while, so you can see for yourself what a bitch he actually is. Then you’ll go back to Jonghyun for me, like the good fool you are.
I wouldn’t ever go back to Jonghyun if I’ve got Kibum, you know that.
We’ll see, darling, we’ll see. Do you dare take my offer?
What do you want me to do, then?
Listen to me, and me only. Do whatever I ask of you to, and you’ll have your precious slut back with you. You can go back to drinking your heart out with him and ruining both your lives together as you used to do, how perfect is that?
No tricks, Taemin?
No tricks, darling, no tricks. Kibum will come back to you.. In perfect condition.
A/N - I believe the ending for this is one of the worst I’ve ever written for something. I know it’s pretty much Minho-centric and Jongho here, but I promise Minkey in the second half of this story, if anyone wants it. If you’re reading this, then thank you for staying with me. Please do comment and critique, I’m not feeling very confident about my writing these days. And Love Me Whenever readers, I’m writing the next chapter as we speak. <3
Pairing focus: Key/Minho, faux!(Key/Jonghyun), Minho/Jonghyun
Genre: Psychological issues, Character death
Rating: PG-15(for creep factor and murder)
Word count: 7,217
Summary: I’m sorry for having let you down, baby, so won’t you come back to me? Doesn’t matter where we are, or what we do, so long we have each other. That’s right, you and me, back in the old days, drinking to our hearts’ content and having drunk, crazy sex. Aside from all our little spats and fights- baby, don’t look at me like that- you know I love you. You know you love me too. I’m sorry for what I did, so won’t you come back to me? Baby, he’s nothing compared to you, honest. Come back to me and we’ll go ruining our lives together in a glorious world of Technicolor, whilst dipping into a pool of sweet, sweet love.
Disclaimer: Major fail!summary is fail. In short, Minho wants his Kibum again. Unbeta-ed, as are all of my works. SHINee’s Obsession is on loop for this.
A/N - First time writing this kind of fic. I feel a little unoriginal, though, what with all the psychological problems/creepy fics popping up everywhere these days, even if I thought of this plot a long time ago. Comments and criticism are gladly welcome, and I’m sorry for the approaching fail ahead. Please do comment if you guys want a sequel for this, I’m really apprehensive about the reactions I’m gonna get from you guys about this one. ><
Everything is different without you around.
It’s been two years, and I’m still thinking about you this typical autumn’s morning. I’m laying in bed with my eyes shut tight, one hand thrown over my face in an attempt to block out the early rays of the sun. Jonghyun’s apparently forgotten to draw the curtains last night before he went to bed. The light irritates me, but I don’t get up to plunge the room into darkness again. I smile slowly at myself; if you were still mine, you’d have pushed me off the bed with your skinny legs to make me draw the curtains. Fucking hell, it’s too early to be woken up by the sun. Fucking get up and make the sun go away, Minho, it’s your fault the curtain’s not shut in the first place, you’d groan. Of course, I’d oblige to my princess, but not without a few curses on my part at nothing in particular.
As I feel blindly around the bed, trying to find something that I could use to cover my eyes with (and get back to that amazing dream I was having about us two), the bed suddenly sinks at either sides of me. I scrunch my eyes open in confusion, and meet with a pair of chocolate puppy-eyes, just a few inches away from my face. It was a sudden intrusion of my personal space, but at least he’s blocking out the light for me. Oh, and I forgot to introduce him to you, baby, this man is Kim Jonghy- silly me, we’re not together anymore, so why do I bother introducing my current boyfriend to you? In my head, no less.
“Good morning,” breathes Jonghyun, his lightly chiseled face carrying a sunny smile. I stifle the urge to groan; he doesn’t need to know how much I hate energetic mornings. Just like how you hate them too.
“Hey, you.” I lift my arms slightly above my head to stretch, flashing a tired smile at him. Big mistake. Jonghyun takes the opportunity to wind the tie in his hands loosely around my wrists, effectively tying my hands together. I wake up a bit more now, and narrow my eyes at him playfully.
“What’s this, babe?”
Jonghyun shrugs, giving me yet another bright grin. “I don’t really know, but since I’ve got a little free time before I have to go to work..” He leans down to cover my mouth with his warm lips, sighing into the kiss and slowly trailing his strong fingers up and down my bare side. I shiver at the sudden heated touch of his body in contrast with the cool air of our room, and out of habit, my mouth grants access to Jonghyun’s tongue.
It’s the early hours (because only you would count eight thirty as being too early), and what we’re doing right now seems to be a little re-run of last night’s lovemaking. His hands are already teasing the band of my boxers half a minute into the make-out, and his tongue leads the dance that’s happening inside my mouth. I try not to mind as a clothed bulge brushes against the inside of my thighs, causing me to rub myself against him with slow want. His hands, now adding to the tent that was building up in my boxers, pause just above my balls, and the pad of his thumbs smooth over them in little circles. I hear myself making lewd noises, and somewhere at the back of my mind, I feel disgusted with myself. Why am I being like that, when I know all of this isn’t you?
Jonghyun straddles me, with one hand clumsily undoing the knot that has my hands bound together, and the other working on releasing my erection. As much as I want him to stop caressing my member oh-so-gently with those sinful hands of his, the pool of pleasure lapping at my insides try to convince me otherwise. I shake my head discreetly, trying not to gasp as I feel his fingers curling around my base, instead attempting to concentrate on how uncomfortable he was feeling on top of me. I was never made for the bottom, save for the few times you wanted to try topping me. Because you were my princess, I obliged without complaint. I was never made for the bottom at all, until I met Jonghyun.
“Babe, l-let’s stop this,” I stammer, contradicting myself at the same time by pushing his head further down again after his teeth graze erotically at my length.
“You don’t act like it,” he smirks, words muffled as he attempts to talk from being around me. Fuck, it feels so good-
“Y-you’re gonna be late.” This time, I sit up a little straighter, curling my legs to my sides and pushing him down onto the bed in a swift motion, holding his shoulders and catching him by surprise. I laugh breathlessly at his disappointed pout, and plant a harsh kiss on his lips. I briefly taste myself, mixed with Jonghyun’s coffee-and-cigarette laced breath. I stumble out of bed, dragging on my abandoned boxers haphazardly, stretching once again as I walk to the bathroom, ignoring his whines of protest at my sudden departure. I chide myself silently at how I pushed him, though; after all, Jonghyun isn’t you, he isn’t used to rough sex like how we were, baby.
My, my, Minho. You’ve got early morning sex on a plate, and yet you push it away? I freeze, glaring unseeingly at the mirror, toothbrush still in my mouth.
Fuck off, Taemin.
I’d rather fuck you, my darling. Although watching you fuck Jonghyun would be good too--
Shut up.
Touchy this morning, darling. Kibum wouldn’t like you like this so early, hmm?
Shut up, Taemin.
You want him back, don’t you?
The voice thankfully melts away as the sight of a mildly disheveled Jonghyun greets me at the dining table, absorbed in reading that morning’s papers. I spy the sumptuous breakfast laid out on the table, and widen my eyes, making a beeline for it. Jonghyun looks up at the scraping of my chair, and sticks out an arm to ruffle at my hair.
“Good morning, babe.” I was the one who did all the hair-ruffling and initiating the good mornings to you. It feels different to have someone do it to me like how I did to you, almost every day.
“Didn’t you tell me that already just now?” I smile as best as I can around a mouthful of egg sandwiches, washing it down with a gulp of orange juice. I’m still not used to being surprised with daily breakfast on the table, courtesy of Jonghyun. I’m usually the one who has to get up in the early afternoons (when we both don’t work) to whip up something simple for you, because as you insist, lunch is not lunch without breakfast. Whatever that meant. Baby, do you remember when was the last time we had breakfast without a healthy dose of tequila?
Don’t be an ungrateful fuck by thinking about Kibum, darling. Jonghyun’s done so much more than that little bitch has ever done for you, hmm?
Go away, Taemin, stop looking into my head.
Stupid boy, your head is my head. You are me, and I am you. There’s no ‘you’ and ‘me’ when it comes to the two of us.
My name isn’t Taemin.
“Babe?” Jonghyun is for some reason looking at me weirdly, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He folds up his newspaper with a rustling sound. The sound of newspapers rustling contrasts greatly with the crooning of your favorite singers on the stereo in the morning, baby.
“Yeah?”
“I was talking to you while you were zoning out, silly. But nothing important, it’s just that I have to go to work right now.” Jonghyun stands up, picking his black suit jacket off the back of the chair and slipping it on. My heart drops, and I stand up too, closing the remaining distance between us with a single stride.
“Your tie,” I mumble, looping the satin neatly around his neck. He scrunches up his nose at me as I dramatically stoop lower to finish tying it for him, and I tap at his nose. “Stupid dinosaur.”
“Why’d you have to be so tall,” he whines, taking hold of my hands while simultaneously using my eyes as a makeshift mirror to check out his reflection. “Do I look presentable for my meeting today?”
I make a non-committal noise at the back of my throat, closing my eyes on purpose to avoid him using them as mirrors again. I’m sorry, Jonghyun, but that’s what Kibum always does to me before he goes out too, only much more narcissistic.
Motherfucker, tell your “stupid dinosaur” that he looks perfect, as always. Tell him like you always told that bitch.
Kibum isn’t a bitch, my head shouts back at him, but I find my lips forming the exact words Taemin has asked of me. “Perfect, as always.” I feel an unseen force unkindly twisting at my head, pushing it lower so my lips can press themselves against his. I fight the urge to back away; I hate how the taste of Jonghyun’s cigarettes makes me miss the constant taste of sweet alcohol and gummy bears on your breath so much.
Thinking about him whist kissing Jonghyun, hmm? Tut, tut.
“Do you really have to go?” I ask, as I break away from him. I watch as his eyes widen in mild shock, and immediately my hand flies to my mouth. I didn’t mean to talk so loudly. I just wanted to drown Taemin out.
“Whoa, relax, babe.” His fingers rub at my shoulder blades, attempting to smooth out the stiff muscles. “I’m sorry, but I really have to get going now, it’s already nine.” His hands migrate to hover lightly on my hips, staring beseechingly into my eyes, as if to ask for forgiveness.
“It’s okay, just go.” I give him a mechanical smile, and pat at his butt. He grins happily, standing on his tiptoes to peck at my cheek before grabbing at his briefcase. You see, baby, he’s different from you. He puts his work before me, even after I told him I took the day off specially to spend time with him. Baby, you wouldn’t do that to me, right? You’d put down your camera and tripod stand in a heartbeat and come right back to bed with me if I asked you to, free day or not.
“That’s my Minho. I’ll call you at lunch, okay?” He fixes his shoelaces into a lazy knot, and then dashes back one last time to touch his pillowy lips to my own.
“Got it. Hurry up now, or Mr. Lee’s gonna have your neck again,” I tease, pushing him steadily out of the door. He stops, though, just three steps shy of the entrance. He turns to look at me, and I feel myself heat up self-consciously. “What now?”
“Don’t forget to take your medicine, okay?” His eyes rake at my face, searching for some sign of agreement in all seriousness. I reluctantly nod, and give him a final push out the door. I catch his fleeting smile, before the echo of the closing door resounds around our wide apartment.
“Get the fuck out of here, right now.” I remain still, rooted to the spot. I know that you’re not kidding, the way hot tears slide down your pale cheeks, with you not making an effort to wipe them off. Jonghyun’s long gone by now, thrown out by you after he’s tried to make a futile explanation.
I’m woozy, and something warm and sticky trickles from my temple, running down the sides of my face as I stumble toward you, hands outstretched, wanting so much to take you into my arms and wipe off all the pain you feel right now. Before I can even touch you, your arms fly out, and I withdraw slowly, face stinging dully with the impact of the slap.
“Don’t touch me, after you touched that fucker.” You spit out the last two words, and despite how much guilt I’m feeling towards you right now, I feel an unnecessary surge of anger wash through me.
“Don’t talk about him like that, what you saw isn’t what it’s supposed to be-“ I’m cut off with your mirthless cackle, and you sink onto the floor.
“What’s it supposed to be, then? I come home, and the first thing I see is the two of you, making out like the sick fucks you two are, on OUR bed, with the lights OFF. Or did my eyes fuck with me?”
“You don’t see me complaining about you being with..” I pause, shuddering slightly at the effort to say the names. “Dongwoon, Mir, Woohyun, even Heechul hyung.. I saw you today, with him. What’s that all about, then?”
Kibum has the decency to flush lightly, before allowing his anger to come back at me, full force. “You know how I act around everybody. Heechul-hyung was being friendly as per usual. At least with everyone you’ve mentioned, I’ve never so much as fucking kissed them, the way you do Jonghyun.”
“I didn’t-“
“You know what, Minho? Fuck this. Fuck us. Fuck everything. I should’ve known we weren’t right from the start, fighting almost every fucking day of our lives. I’m done.” Kibum stands up, tears blurring his eyes, trying to shove past me, and I grab at his wrists desperately.
“We were happy every day, too. Remember?”
His cold eyes were the last thing I saw of his beautiful face before he walked out. “No. Goodbye, Minho.”
My smile wavers, and I make my way back to the dining table. I sit down slowly, shoveling bits of the spread on the table into my mouth, not actually tasting it. Suddenly, the house feels too empty without Jonghyun’s presence, and smells a little too much like me. Jonghyun’s scent is gone, and I smell a lot like you. I push away my plate and trudge into our room; the sandwiches and juice don’t seem so appealing any more.
I pull on a sky-blue striped button-up with sleeves folded just up to my elbows, and a pair of black skinny jeans with the slightest of rips at the upper thighs. It's not my style at all, of course; these are just clothes you forced me to buy, as are most of my better clothes in the wardrobe. Yeobo, you just can't not buy this shirt, it's amazing on you- oh, and those jeans! Come on, you know how much I like it when your ass looks completely fuckable. Please, yeobo, please? And I do get them, no matter how much of an impact the price tags have on my wallet. Anything for my princess.
Is that bitch all you have on your mind, darling? Taemin tuts, and I recoil from myself, if that's even possible.
"For the last time, he isn't a bitch, Taemin. And fuck off."
Talking to your head aloud right now are we? Then he's a goddamn dirty whore. Why do you think of him so much when all he's ever done is break your heart?
"I've broken his too." I resist the urge to bang my head crazily at the plaster to make Taemin go away. Jonghyun's words float into my mind like a lifesaver just then, and I grab at the chance.
Some of the little pink-and-white pills- your favorite color, baby, do you like them?- fall into my cupped hand as I tip the bottle shakily, causing some of the little oblong shapes to bounce onto the kitchen linoleum. I ignore the jarring noises of falling pills and concentrate on counting out three of them for consumption. It's one more than my usual amount, but I'm not about to bring them out to lunch with me. Not as if I'm planning to eat anything, but still.
What are you doing? Taemin asks. I stiffen at the sudden accusative tone of his voice.
"Making you fuck off. See these? I know you can see them, since you say you're me." I pour out a glass of water and give the pills in my hand a little shake.
You wouldn't take them. Taemin's voice is light, but I hear mockery behind it.
"What makes you think so?" Before I know what I'm doing, my arms transport the pills into my mouth, and I recoil at the bitter, plastic-y taste of the little oblong shapes. I hastily grab at the water and wash them down with long, desperate gulps. Baby, see? I'm being good, I'm not even saying anything about how much I hate pink when I eat these. See?
Have fun without Kibum in your head anymore too, then. Taemin's voice, as I hoped it to be, is slowly fading away, but his last words strike cold in my heart.
"What do you mean, Taemin? Taemin?"
His voice gives off a high-pitched giggle. Taking the pills make me go away, yes, but you wouldn't remember your precious little bitch, either.. Taemin's voice echoes in my head, and I clutch at it with one hand, the other slamming its fist onto the counter-top.
I don't answer him, but I'm sprinting to the bathroom as fast as I can, kneeling in front of the porcelain bowl and sticking two harsh fingers down my throat, watching with slightly burning eyes as part of my breakfast comes up with those horrible, horrible pills. I make the vilest, retching sounds, hazily drawing out a memory of me holding your shoulders gently as you puke away your hangovers. Those were great memories, despite the way you cried so much because you hate vomiting, baby. My mouth taste like shit, but I make no move to get up from my collapsed position on the floor and wash it. I'm shaking slightly, and every so often I crawl to the bowl to spit; my saliva is a sick, sticky orange. I don't feel like getting up, but Taemin makes a reappearance.
Good boy. Why're you sitting here like the pathetic fucker you are? Didn't you want to get out of this place and go somewhere with more people, so you can avoid being alone? I detect the condescending break in Taemin's childish voice.
I'm not avoiding being alone. I don't want to be alone with only you. I'm talking to him in my head again because my mouth feels too foul to be used right now. Baby, if you were here, you'd never make me take them if I didn't want them to, hmm? You'd tell me about the voices you have in your head too, when you're drunk, right? Then this little Taemin and your voice can be friends and go the fuck away, leave us alone and-
Stupid, why the hell would I want to make friends with that whore?
His voice, not him. Stop calling him a whore, Taemin.
For the last time, Choi, Taemin hisses, and for some reason I feel myself curling slightly into a ball, as if I'm afraid of his little tantrums. I'm not another person because I'm goddamn you. That little bitch's voice is also him, so why would I want to talk to him?
You're making no sense. Fuck, even the voice in my head sounds like a pussycat. Baby, you'd know how to get him to fuck off, right?
Get up and go out, Minho, I want to see the outside. Taemin's voice reverts back to its kiddy lilt. I drag myself up to get to the sink, and rinse my mouth with some water before using a generous amount of mouthwash. Once done, I douse my face in cool tap water before looking into the mirror again. I look like shit, what with the dark circles from my sleepless night. I also look hollow, and the way the light reflects off the tiny water droplets makes me look so much worse. You can't go out like that, yeobo! You'd shriek in horror, and start pulling me to our kitchen, where you'd pick from your endless array of beauty products to make me presentable. I shrug at myself one last time before slouching off to dry my face and giving my teak waves a few tugs with the comb. You're not here for me to pretty myself up for, baby, so why bother?
I'm sorry, Jonghyun. I don't mean not to listen, but I still want to see my princess.
I’m in town right now, and I shiver slightly as the wind slithers itself around my torso, entering by invading the little openings of my button-up. My thighs thankfully feel nothing, and in spite of Taemin telling me to walk faster to keep warm, I slow down, my feet turning into lumbering sticks, the way I’m used to walking now that I don’t have you dragging me everywhere all the time.
Having not bothered with a coat or jacket of any sort, I embrace the warmth of the quaint toy shop as I step into it, carefully closing the door behind me with a little tinkle of the bell. I’m not sure why I picked here out of all the other shops I could wander around whilst getting warmed up, but I find myself trailing my fingers along the aluminum, sometimes stopping at a particular box of toys or figurine to admire it before moving on.
There’s no one else in the shop, save for a slim girl with a waterfall of stygian cascading down the arch of her back as she hunches over slightly, reading a book at the shop front. I pay no attention to her, and focus on a Mr. Potato figurine, tucked away at the top of the deepest shelves. I reach out for it, mildly asking myself the reason for doing so, and bring it down to look at it properly. Mr. Potato isn’t an attractive toy, what with its funky baby-pink ears sticking out obstinately on the side of its head, busy eyebrows, oversized eyes, a mustache the size and shape of a ballerina’s skirt and a slightly twisted mouth. It’s meant to be comical, but I find no joy looking at him with his arms stitched akimbo. I’m about to put it back again, shaking my head at my random actions, when a considerable swell of realization laps at my brain, causing me to hug it tight and whack at my temple with the back of my hand. Silly me, it’s you who loves looking at Toy Story and shit so much, especially this guy here. How could I have forgotten your favorite?
I follow the string slowly with my fingers to meet with the attached price-tag, mouthing at its cost in amazement to myself. A big-fat ninety-seven; how could a goddamn piece of plastic be worth that much? You don’t listen, do you, stupid? The bitch always said this was limited edition. Remember how much he wanted it?
“Go away,” I mumble, feeling in my pockets for a wallet and peeling apart the leather separations to look at the amount of cash I have on me. I’m only looking at a few hundred that’s supposed to last me through the next two weeks before I get paid again, but I’m walking over to the counter with a blank expression on my face.
“One Mr. Potato, limited edition, is that all-?” The girl looks at me properly now, as do I to her, and both our lips curl in to tiny smiles of recognition. She’s Yuri, one of my ex-girlfriends from before I found Kibum. I’d lost touch with her ever since I had you, baby, because I know how much you hate it when I talk to other girls so much. Reminds you of how you turned me gay, huh? Ouch- Stop hitting me like that, you know I’m just kidding. I’m gay only for you.
“Minho?” Her face is alight with elation as she reaches out to touch my hand. Out of habit, I withdraw slightly, and I watch with growing guilt as her eyes take on a hint of disappointment. I hastily clear my throat, stretching out to cover her fingers with my own.
“Yuri. How long has it been? I mean, since we talked.” I scuff my foot on the carpeted floor before continuing. “How are you?”
“About five years or so, you know.. I’m doing good. Where’s, you know, him?” Her eyes dart carefully around the shop, searching for signs of Kibum, as she eases her hand out from under mine.
“He’s not here.”
“Oh,” she sighs in relief, not bothering about the open cash register as I place a hundred on the plastic surface. “Then where’s he n-“
“We’re not together anymore.” I cut her off, smiling at her, but only with my mouth.
Tut, tut, Minho, doesn’t it hurt to remember how he left you?
Yuri lowers her eyes, cheeks ablaze with a light vermillion of apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’s alright,” I wave airily at her, ignoring the slight tender pulls at my heartstrings. An idea floats into my mind now that the purchase is done; I still don’t want to be alone. “Listen, what time does your shift end?”
“Anytime I want to, I guess? This is my uncle’s shop.”
“Keen to get out now?”
“I don’t know..”
“Come on, we haven’t talked in ages.” You just don’t want to be alone, you manipulative twat.
“Alright.”
~
Yuri’s coated arm is looped through the crevice the crook of my arm has created, with my hands shoved into the depths of my jean pockets as we stroll leisurely down the streets, close enough so that our hips occasionally brush against each other. Every so often, I free my other hand by passing over the bag to my pocketed one to brush away the autumn leaves snagged in the wool of her plain white beanie, and every so often, I catch a replay of the light blush that colors her cheeks when I do so. Baby, I’m not feeling anything towards her, alright? I just really, really care for her, honest- I mean, you should know that I met her when I was eight, when she still lived near my old home, right?
“Are you single, now?” I playfully nudge at her side with my hip, causing her to lose her balance slightly, and my free hand goes around us both to support her.
“Minho, that was totally not nice of you,” she scolds gently, pushing her fringe out of her eyes.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“Yes.”
“Seriously? An angel like you?” I’m not overly exaggerating; Yuri’s only gotten prettier since her teenage years. Her old shoulder-length cut has been done away with and dyed back a jet black, curled to perfection. She’s lost some of the baby fat on her cheeks, and her skin is amazing, almost completely flawless. Relax, baby, yours is still the best.
“Stop overly-complimenting me, oppa,” she blushes, getting held back by me as I stop suddenly in-front of a boutique. “What, you want to go in there?”
“Mmm. I want to get something for my boyfriend..” I’m not exactly lying; I’ve just omitted the word ‘ex’ in front of the boyfriend. You wouldn’t actually get to have this, baby, but it’s better to get it as a surprise for you, just in case we do have each other again, isn’t it.
“Ah, you’re dating someone else now?” Yuri’s pink lips form a tiny donut as she bows awkwardly at me for having held the door open for her.
“Y-yeah. Kim Jonghyun. I doubt you’ve ever heard of him, though. He’s an accountant.” I shrug, and head straight for the sunglasses section. There’s this one pair I know you’ll love to have, and it’s in leopard-print.
“Wow, that’s a.. jump.” I know what Yuri means, but I’m pushing reality into the darkest corners of my mind, where Taemin can’t possibly drag them back up. But then again, maybe he can. I shake my head infinitesimally and hold up the sunglasses to her. “Good?”
“Very.” She takes the glasses from my hand and twirls it around, observing it at every angle before giving it back to me. “Good, but, are you sure that’s this Kim Jonghyun’s style? From what I heard, accountants don’t often wear such flashy things, you know,” she says uncomfortably with a little laugh, studying me.
“My Jonghyun’s different; he likes this stuff. He likes wearing the weirdest stuff when we go out clubbing on weekends, you know,” I say carelessly, going up to the snobby woman at the front desk to ask for a new pair. It’s a fucking two hundred bucks, I’m informed, but I just smile brightly and pat at my pockets reassuringly. She sniffs at the two of us disdainfully, but otherwise trots off to the back room to search for a new pair. It’s a bit rich of you to say ‘my’ Jonghyun, isn’t it, Minho? But I suppose he is, since you’re dating him for me and I like him..
You’re making no sense again. I glare at the floor before looking up at Yuri again, because she’s having yet another apprehensive look on her face.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“No, nothing.” She wrings her wrists slowly, avoiding my gaze by looking at a deep purple scarf that’s draped aristocratically around a mannequin. She fingers the material, and then lets it slide through her fingers again.
“Yuri, I know it’s not nothing. Tell me, why don’t you?” I spin her around to face me again, trying to look into the depths of her eyes to figure out what’s wrong. I’m shocked to see underlying fear in all that burnt sienna, and drop my hands from her waist.
“You know he’s not Kibum, right?” Her words, however soft, hit at my heart in the form of sharp icicles. Aww, Yuri noona is smart, isn’t she, Minho-hyung?
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I not know who my boyfriend is?” I save myself further shit by rifling through my wallet for the money and pushing it into the woman’s surprised hands. So generous towards the little bitch? You’ve got Jonghyun to take care of now, you know.
He’s not a bitch, Taemin, I sigh tiredly, taking the box from the skeptic saleslady. With a hasty bow, I drag myself and Yuri out of the shop.
“What was that.. Taemin all about?” Yuri has again shaken herself free of my hold, rubbing at her arms lightly. I wince; I must have held her too tight, baby. Have I ever done that to you, by the way? I’m sorry if I have.
“T-taemin?” I must have spoken aloud without her knowing. Yuri looks really frightened now, and she looks as if she’s about to bolt. “Nah, he’s just a friend I’m gonna invite over for dinner today, together with Jonghyun,” I fib. “You want to come?”
“No, no. I’ll pass.” Her eyes shift uncomfortably, and once again she’s talking to her shoes. “Listen, Minho oppa, I have to get back right now, my uncle’s probably wondering where I am. Stay safe around town, alright? And.. take care.” She shuffles forward to give me an awkward hug before swiftly retracing our footsteps back to the shop. “You have my number, right?” Her voice carries back to me by the wind, and with a final, tentative smile, she turns the corner street.
I do have her number, but I’m not about to use it. She doesn’t need to know how much I miss you, huh, baby?
God, idiot, you’ve scared her away. Why’d you go talking to yourself aloud anyway?
You spoke to me first.
No, you spoke to yourself. Stop thinking about that bitch, will you?
~
It’s ten in the evening right now, and I’m missing you more than ever. I’ve been alone since I met Yuri a little while ago, baby, and now with only Taemin for company. Don’t leave me again, will you?
Stupid son of a bitch, he’s already left you a whole two years ago.
I remember now, Taemin. You don’t have to remind me. No, wait, that doesn’t make any sense.
I’m sluggishly downing the last of my strawberry-and-lime tequila (straight from the bottle, just like how you like your favorite), leaning on the dusty brick walls of this godforsaken alley that we so loved to visit. Oh yes, sweetheart; remember how we stumbled out of Shockz and Thongs one Friday night, right into this alley, and had one of the first best fucks of our entire lives? You know, I can still see our names, burnt faintly into the walls with a stray cigarette after you’ve finished writing them on the surface with you drink. Remember how you licked at the wall, just for good luck, and kissed me like there was no tomorrow? I complained it was disgusting, yes, but you told me to never call anything that has our love on it disgusting. Look, here it is - Kibum’s Minho, 23rd September 2009. I remember now; that day was your birthday too, wasn’t it? Good times, baby, good times. Which reminds me, it’s one and a half hours to this year’s birthday for you. I would give away everything I have just to hold you again, right here. I got you presents, baby, do you want to see?
It’s 11:45PM now, baby. Just another fifteen minutes more. Jonghyun’s been calling me for awhile now, but I don’t want to pick up. My head hurts with Taemin yelling at me non-stop for having ignored Jonghyun like that, but I don’t care. My drink’s long gone, and my mouth is bitter without the taste of you in it, but I don’t care. I’m getting a lot of weird stares from the party-goers around here, but I understand - what man who’s able to afford bags of branded goods would sit slumped against a brick wall in a dirty alley, drunk out of his mind? Baby, I hear the whispers. They call me crazy, I know, but after all, I’m only crazy for you. I don’t care. I’m crazy enough to wait for you out here, till you come out of our haven and see me. I want to pass you your presents. I want to kiss you like there’s no tomorrow, to taste you again, to hold my world again. I don’t need anyone else; Jonghyun, or Taemin, or Yuri, or anyone, baby. I just need you.
Midnight, cackles Taemin. He’s not here for you to sing happy birthday to, isn’t it, darling? There’s only me, you, and dear Jonghyun on the line.
He’ll come out for me, just wait and see. He will.
That ungrateful bitch has already long forgotten about you, darling. It’s 12:13PM right now, and has that fag shown his ass? No.
He’ll come. He’s just partying away his special day, that’s all. He doesn’t know I’m out here Taemin, he doesn’t know I still think about him-
The senseless ramble in my head is cut short by an obnoxious bang of double doors belonging to Shockz and Thongs. I look up just in time to see a head of multicolored highlights dance gaily out of the club, with one thin, milky arm wrapped loosely around his taller companion’s waist. I squint a little, because the strobe lights in the club honestly blinded me a little in my alcohol-induced stupor. Taemin draws a sharp breath, and my heart stops the minute the doors clang shut again, the last of the lights reflecting harshly on the skinnier man’s teeth. I hear him laugh, and my fist curls unconsciously around the fabric sticking to my chest; I’d recognize it anywhere. Kibum.
“Baby, happy birthday!” I stand up and shout in a hurry, my bags falling haphazardly on the dirty concrete as I wave my arms wildly, eyes smarting slightly. I can’t believe it; you’re here, like I wished so hard for, for me to say happy birthday to.
What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I ignore Taemin’s low snarl and begin walking unsteadily toward you. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I chant to myself, heart hammering wildly against my ribcage. Every step seems like eternity when I’m walking toward my princess, even if he’s got his arm around someone else.
Before I can come out from the shadows of out alley to greet you, however, I witness your companion put his arms around your waist and lift you up, spinning you around as if you belong to him. I’m frozen into place, my lips trembling slightly. Baby, why aren’t you protesting? Why aren’t you making him put you down, aren’t you my princess? I want to run out and take you away from him, but I can’t; something is holding me rooted to the ground.
Your voice drifts gently in the cool night breeze toward me, a sweet melody of breathless laughter. It’s enough for me to break free of the hold that thing (Taemin?) has on me, to take another step toward you. I’m waving my arms numbly, a smile frozen on my face. I miss you so much, baby-
“I, Kim Kibum, love my pabo, Lee Jinki.” Your strawberry lips pout prettily as your arms around his neck pull you toward the other man’s face, and you plant a loud kiss on his lips.
He brushes a hand through your hair and lets out a carefree chuckle that strikes red-hot into my heart, causing my eyes to sear and the sight before me to mold into a painful kaleidoscope of colors. “Happy birthday, my princess.”
I can take it no longer, and I bolt, gathering the bags up messily in my arms and running as fast as I can away from the two of you. It doesn’t matter where I’m going, so long as he’s not around you. I’m blatantly ignoring the feisty shouts of the public whom I’ve rammed into by accident and working my legs as hard as I can, shoving through the sea of plain faces, not seeing anything properly. I run till my head feels like it’s about to explode, stuttering to a stop on an empty sidewalk. I’m gasping for air on all fours, and I feel like I’m drowning, but all the pain I’m experiencing right now cannot be compared to how much it hurt to see you be with someone else.
He’s not your princess now, you know. I give a useless shout of frustration at the return of Taemin’s voice, very much not out of breath. Of course; I did all the running and crying, all he needed to do was the watch the show.
Why, Taemin? I thought we were happy together. He’s known that Jinki guy for a much shorter time compared to what we shared.
You two fought everyday, darling. He doesn’t want you anymore. Go back home to Jonghyun like you promised him you would; Kibum’s not yours anymore.
Fuck Jonghyun. I want Kibum. I want him, I want him, I want him.
He’s not going to come back to you anymore, motherfucker. Get up and go home to Jonghyun. That slut is whoring himself away to someone else now. He’s not worthy of your thoughts anymore.
“DO NOT CALL HIM A SLUT!” I jump involuntarily, despite me being the one shouting all of a sudden, wincing at the anxious squawk of birds flapping away frantically into the night. I’m useless, isn’t it, baby? That’s why I couldn’t stop you from leaving me and being with someone else. I’m not strong enough to keep you happy with me. I’m not even strong enough to stop Taemin from talking shit about you.
You want him back so much? I stare numbly at the concrete, ears on high alert at the obvious oily tone that Taemin’s voice has taken on.
Yes. With all my heart.
I can help you get him back, darling.
Why? Don’t you hate him? I’m talking to Taemin slowly now, hardly believing that he’s said this. I want his help, of course, I want anybody’s help. But when it comes from Taemin, I’m treading on eggshells while waiting for him to speak.
Of course I do. But I rather him to come back to you, even if it’s only a little while, so you can see for yourself what a bitch he actually is. Then you’ll go back to Jonghyun for me, like the good fool you are.
I wouldn’t ever go back to Jonghyun if I’ve got Kibum, you know that.
We’ll see, darling, we’ll see. Do you dare take my offer?
What do you want me to do, then?
Listen to me, and me only. Do whatever I ask of you to, and you’ll have your precious slut back with you. You can go back to drinking your heart out with him and ruining both your lives together as you used to do, how perfect is that?
No tricks, Taemin?
No tricks, darling, no tricks. Kibum will come back to you.. In perfect condition.
A/N - I believe the ending for this is one of the worst I’ve ever written for something. I know it’s pretty much Minho-centric and Jongho here, but I promise Minkey in the second half of this story, if anyone wants it. If you’re reading this, then thank you for staying with me. Please do comment and critique, I’m not feeling very confident about my writing these days. And Love Me Whenever readers, I’m writing the next chapter as we speak. <3