±0.001% (rounded off to three decimal places) [7/?]
Title: ±0.001% (rounded off to three decimal places) [7/?]
Pairing: Kyumin
Rating: PG13 (rn)
Word Count: ~5,100
Summary: Sungmin is a greeting card writer. He's good only at sympathy cards and rude only to Dr. Cho.
Beta: teexsaurus. i have nothing good to say about this sexy beast rn.
Chapter 8: 三人行（不行）| Three’s a Party
Kyuhyun was aware that excessive alcohol consumption could impede the process of memory creation. Various independent studies had shown a relation between alcohol intake and the inability to create long-term memories. He wondered what four beakers of boiled beer were capable of. Given the previous experience he had with a drunken Sungmin, he was half expecting him to forget what had happened last night. The other half of him was entertaining some warped fantasies which were too foolish to say out loud but to provide a gist, let’s just say that they involved a beach, some running, a hug and flailing, lots of it.
What he didn’t expect, however, was for Sungmin to be genuinely apologetic.
“I’m sorry.” Sungmin chewed his lower lip profusely.
Kyuhyun wanted to turn and run from this. Or at least come up with a nonchalant enough response to show that he was man enough to handle rejection. ‘Hold on, is this a rejection? Did I even propose anything at all?’ He waited for his large brain to come up with a coherent explanation. It threw up a lot of equations and theories but he didn’t think they fitted at all. Why didn’t he minor in psychology?
Because the School of Psychology was a good fifteen minute walk away from the School of Science, you lazy arse, his brain answered. ‘Now this, this is correct,’ Kyuhyun thought and was relieved to find that he could still reason well.
“I,” Sungmin started.
“Yes,” Kyuhyun said, all out of breath from anxiety.
Sungmin’s frown intensified. “I jumped you last night. We,” He sank his teeth deeper into his lip, “we had lip contact, didn’t we?”
“What? Oh. You mean we kissed,” Kyuhyun replied dumbly. Then he blinked away rapidly and a shade of dark red tinged the tops of his ears.
“Hmm,” Sungmin tapped a finger against his temple as if he could draw out his thoughts by the act alone. “I imagine kissing will involve a range of emotions, or at least some affection between two people.”
“What makes you think we, I,” Kyuhyun ran up dead against himself. He discovered he didn’t quite know how to define this thing between the two of them.
Worse, he realized he was the only one confused.
“I know this is very upsetting. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sincerely sorry, Dr. Cho.” Kyuhyun wanted very much to haul a packet of frozen endothelial cells at Sungmin’s face.
“Don’t call me that,” He snapped. “And stop biting your lip, I can’t think.” It seemed absurd to be angry, embarrassing even. But anger worked like a fallout shelter, shielding him from all these emotional debris. It was safe. So despite his mortification, the heat continued to creep onto Kyuhyun’s skin. He waited for the invasion to still. When he found out he needed more than just time, he got up from the lab bench, punched in the correct combination to the lock and escaped from those suffocating white walls.
. . . . .
What Kyuhyun didn’t know was that he was as much of an enigma to Sungmin as Sungmin was to him.
“I was sent to rescue you.” Donghae sang after he released Sungmin from the confines of the cell culture lab in the afternoon. He was all bright smiles and rainbows. Sungmin turned away from the glare.
He took a few steps forward before stopping. “Is he…angry?” Sungmin asked tentatively.
“Who? Kyuhyun? I don’t think so. He said he’s tired and took the day off though.”
Sungmin stared at his feet in dismal. He couldn’t even work up his own anger at being locked up overnight in the lab. The truth was he had taken advantage of Dr. Cho when he was drunk. But did it warrant such anger? Maybe that was his sensitive spot. Maybe it mattered to him like how cats matter to a batshit crazy cat lady, like how wigs matter to Siwon, he reasoned to himself. He worried his lip again, stopping when he realized what he was doing.
“Say, want to help me with some experiments again?” Donghae flung an arm over Sungmin’s shoulders. “We have some fresh pig hearts arriving today,” he whispered conspiratorially into Sungmin’s ear, like it was some particularly enticing treat.
Sungmin took a respite from his worrying. “Is it going to involve nitric acid again?” His hand flew instinctively to his right eyebrow.
“No, we’re going to have fun with electricity this time.” Donghae’s brows were wiggling most suggestively.
How the hell was that supposed to be reassuring. “But I really need to go to the bathroom first.” Sungmin crossed his legs and grimaced.
Donghae looked a little scared. He moved away from Sungmin. “Please do.”
. . . . .
When Sungmin returned home with burnt fingertips that evening, Kyuhyun had already retreated to his room. He fretted all night picking out his lines, in case Kyuhyun chose to make an entrance to the living room for his daily scoop of drama. But only Ryeowook appeared with a bowl of almond pudding.
“Want some?” He placed the pudding on the coffee table and sat down carefully on the couch beside Sungmin. Just another night of TV.
“No…” Sungmin plucked the threads of the cushion cover loose.
“So,” Ryeowook fiddled with the remote control. “You weren’t around yesterday…” The word floated off with a trail, an ambiguous movie ending without an audience.
“Yeah…”
Ryeowook switched the channel. “Kyuhyun wasn’t around too.” He switched it again. And again. There was nothing good on TV, he felt like a nomadic couch potato.
“Yeah…”
Unconsciously scratching the ‘mute’ rubber button on the remote, Ryeowook had all his attention on the ugly vase beside the TV.
“We were locked up in the lab.” It was spoken like a fact, so devoid of emotion that it forbade Ryeowook to seek out anymore answers. But it wasn’t like he still had any unfilled blanks in his mind.
They ended up watching a French drama sans subtitles and with the sound muted.
. . . . .
. . . . .
“You know,” Sungmin muttered to the plate of kimchi,. “that was my first kiss. So really, what does he have to complain about?”
And that was really just it. The reason why those threads of angry disappointment bled out of his open wound and dissolved without a trace. Sungmin talking to kimchi. Kyuhyun wanted to cry with the unfairness of it. ‘Why am I so easy?’ he asked himself. To redeem whatever was left of his dignity, Kyuhyun decided to fake his anger.
Sungmin’s head jerked up when he heard the shuffle of footsteps. “Good morning,” he said cautiously. ‘Good morning cannot be wrong,’ Sungmin had a witty debate with himself a few minutes earlier (hence Ryeowook left without saying goodbye because he didn’t want to disturb his riveting monologue), ‘Good morning is neutral, Good morning is frigging Switzerland.’ “Breakfast?” He gestured awkwardly towards the bowls of rice, seaweed soup and plates of kimchi on the dining table.
Without a word, Kyuhyun settled into a chair and dug in. Sungmin bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t start a lecture on the importance of teeth cleaning. Hastily, he scampered to sit opposite Kyuhyun at the table.
“You are a terrible person.”
“I am a terrible person.”
“You owe me one.” Kyuhyun shoveled some rice into his mouth.
“I owe you one,” Sungmin replied very seriously with an affirmative nod of the head. After half a heartbeat he added, “As long as it’s not anything against the conscience because you have very little of that.” The last few words were practically whispered.
Kyuhyun couldn’t resist a grin, couldn’t resist a tiny burst of euphoria from smoothing down the curled corners of his mood. He picked up a piece of kimchi only to drop it the next instance. “Eh, that was your first kiss?” He jabbed his chopsticks in the direction of Sungmin.
“The seaweed is very fresh,” Sungmin scarfed down a whole length of seaweed and promptly choked on it.
‘Sungmin is thick,’ Kyuhyun theorized, like a nucleus with too many maddening layers of orbiting electrons but oh, he’d wait. If anything, Kyuhyun was a man of patience. And if what he had wasn’t enough, he would buy it, steal it, hijack a plane for it.
Then he would use it to trade whatever the future had to promise.
. . . . .
In Kyuhyun’s lab, the same day
Kyuhyun thought it was extremely cute the way Sungmin fought his safety goggles. They were dangling dangerously off his nose and the chick had to push it all the way up every now and then. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much length for a nose and the goggles kept sliding off together with his heavy glasses. Kyuhyun actually didn’t have plans to be alone with Sungmin in the lab today since he was busy with work in the cell culture lab and Sungmin usually hung out in the work station unless he had an urgent need to understand some weird (read: scientific) terms in Kyuhyun’s reports or observe Kyuhyun at work so he could ‘write a coherent article in a manner befitting of a reporter of a science magazine’ even if he ‘can’t tell the difference between polyethylene and polypropylene, why do people name plastic?’.
But here Sungmin was, insisting on helping Kyuhyun even though the scientist had told him it was fine. Maybe it had something to do with the appearance of Donghae who was dragging around with him some cables and showering them with fairly moronic smiles through the lab’s window.
“Is there something wrong with his hair again? I thought he just straightened it after that explosion.”
“Please,” Sungmin had pled, “let me help you.” Kyuhyun would later boast about the speed with which Sungmin could don a lab coat but no one would believe him.
Thus, Sungmin now sat beside him in front of the culture hood, trying to decipher the mysteries of his experiments while he engaged in warfare with those goggles. “Get that flask for me,” Kyuhyun said, hands all tied up with his work. He nodded towards the far left of the room where three flasks stood on top of a cabinet.
“Which one?” Sungmin got up and strolled over.
“The one with the red cap.”
“Which one?”
Kyuhyun looked up and saw Sungmin standing in front of him, hugging all three flasks to his chest. “This one.” He plucked the flask out of Sungmin’s embrace. As he did so, Sungmin’s glasses fell down the bridge of his nose again, taking the goggles with them. With his hands occupied, Sungmin could only wrinkle his nose vigorously in the hope that’d help push the goggles up.
Kyuhyun laughed, the bright sound slashed across the background noise of dead humming machines. “Let me help you.” Kyuhyun placed the flask in the hood and a rubber band materialized out of nowhere in his hands. He stood up from his seat and suddenly clasped his hands around Sungmin’s neck. He advanced while Sungmin leaned back as far as he could.
“What,” Sungmin asked when he could no longer move without toppling over, “are you doing?”
“Being nice.” The words were whispered into Sungmin’s right ear. It was ticklish so he nudged his ear against Kyuhyun’s arm.
Kyuhyun pulled back and with a dead serious look on his face, he started to fasten the rubber band around the temple tips of Sungmin’s goggles so that it would hold them in place.
Then he lingered.
It was a clumsy half hug, with Kyuhyun’s elbows resting on Sungmin’s shoulder tops and two one-liter flasks between the two of them; one of which was digging most persistently into his ribs. He directed his vision on the third test tube from the right of the test tube rack in the hood - there was a chip at the mouth and the haphazardly cleaned tube had an iridescent gleam to it - because it would be too much to look into Sungmin’s eyes right now.
It was a beautiful moment for Kyuhyun.
“I’m getting crossed eyed from staring at your nose.”
Kyuhyun dropped his arms and resumed his place at the hood. “Better?”
Smooth.
Sungmin’s nose took on a life of its own as it scrunched up, flared its nostrils and wiggled from left to right. But his goggles and glasses stayed perfectly perched on it. “Yeah,” he said while he replaced those flasks and took his seat beside Kyuhyun. “Thank you.”
Kyuhyun’s smile in reply was only a little broken in its corners so Sungmin didn’t notice.
. . . . .
“Glasses are really bothersome.”
Kyuhyun was just pulling out of the parking lot at the end of the day when Sungmin decided to make a statement about his life in glasses.
“I imagine they would be,” Kyuhyun said, entirely distracted by peak hour traffic.
“Do you wear contact lenses?” Sungmin was suddenly too close.
The car swerved a little out of its lane.
“Do you want us to die!” Kyuhyun exclaimed, freeing a hand from the wheel to curl over his heart, as if the act could calm it.
Sungmin continued to peer right into Kyuhyun’s eyes. “You do wear them.” The tone was strangely accusatory, not unlike that usually used on a lost ally.
“Yes, well, I’m terribly sorry for failing your standards.” He pushed Sungmin back into his seat.
“How does it feel wearing them?” Sungmin strained against his seatbelt as he struggled to lean forward again.
“What do you mean? There is a film of plastic sticking on to the eyeball, how do you think that feels? You kinda forget it soon after, but sometimes you get complacent enough to stab your eye in the morning while you’re putting it on. That’s it.”
“I tried putting them on once,” Sungmin confessed his deep dark secret in a small voice, “but I forgot to remove my glasses.”
“Nice,” Kyuhyun chortled, flitting a sideway glance at Sungmin. “Well then, why didn’t you just peel it off those glasses and put it back on?”
Sungmin’s mouth fell open slightly, his eyes just slightly unfocused when he turned to Kyuhyun. He looked as if a hand had pried open his mouth, reached into his throat and stole all his words from him. After what seemed like a long while, he said hesitantly, “I, I think that must be a sign to stop trying or something.” Sungmin lifted a hand to his eyes; those fingertips trailed a light path over his lids. Kyuhyun wondered if he knew what he was doing, even though his fingers must be cutting into his line of vision. He had the impression that Sungmin was looking into emptiness. “I don’t like my eyes very much.”
“Are you okay?” Kyuhyun had a feeling Sungmin was not.
Sungmin whipped his head up, consciousness slipping back into his gaze. “Yeah, yeah, just thinking about…stuff.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“I like your eyes,” Kyuhyun stated as he rounded a bend. There was nothing meaningful in his voice, just a light tensity in the way he clutched the gear.
But Sungmin ignored him. “Do you think I should start wearing contacts?”
Kyuhyun took a long time pondering this. Sungmin had his stare diverted on the rocketing scenery outside the window so he couldn’t tell if he was waiting for an answer. “I think,” Kyuhyun finally shattered the thin glass of noisy static that had been building around them as he parked the car back at their apartment, “you’re perfectly fine just the way you are.”
There was something queer in the way Sungmin gaped at him, like he was an analog of something in his past, complete with a dash of recognition.
“You are the second person to ever say that to me.”
Kyuhyun was about to ask who was the first but Sungmin had already hopped out of the car.
“You know, it’s Friday night,” he said when he caught up with Sungmin at the lift.
Sungmin pressed the lift button, seemingly sober now. “I know it’s Friday night.”
“So, I was wondering if you want to catch a movie?” Kyuhyun grasped the pair of movie tickets in his jeans pocket for good luck. Then he panicked. “Of course, I understand that as a perfectly normal person, it is likely that you would already have plans. Dinner plans or maybe just hanging out at a club for drinks, not that you should be drinking anything since you just can’t, or a night out in town. Because,” his hand flew out of his pocket and made pointless grappling motions as if to seize inspiration by its neck, “it’s Friday night.” Those hands fell helplessly to his sides.
The elevator’s doors slid open. Sungmin walked up to their door and opened it, but not before he casted a shifty look behind him.
There were odd muffled sounds emitting from the door opposite theirs.
“What movie is that?”
Kyuhyun dogged Sungmin’s footsteps. He closed the front door and followed Sungmin into his room where he was already pulling out his black pajamas from the wardrobe. “It’s called Inception.” He bustled around Sungmin hopefully. “It’s about having a dream within a dream while a person is within another dream.” Kyuhyun scowled. Why did the blockbuster sound so stupid now?
“What did you just say?” Sungmin stopped gathering his clothes and gave Kyuhyun his full attention.
“Leonardo Dicaprio is in it.” Kyuhyun held his breath.
It worked. Sungmin actually looked interested for a second. But then he said, “Nay…I think I’d rather stay home. Thanks for the invitation though.” And then he made a beeline for the bathroom.
Kyuhyun didn’t waste a lot of time moping over Sungmin’s retreating back. He pulled out those tickets from his pocket and stared at them instead. The corners were folded in from spending the entire day in his pocket, the printed letters on them now seemed faded and old, like all discarded things are. It’d been only a day and he tossed yet another small scar aside.
‘Time is on my side’, Kyuhyun reminded himself again.
Eventual is a great thing to wait for.
. . . . .
Ryeowook was on his way to his room when Kyuhyun exited from the other room. “Hey Ryeowook, you sure are lucky tonight.” He winked at him.
“What makes you say that?” Ryeowook asked, biting fully on the dangling bait.
“Because…” Kyuhyun smiled slyly, he paused for dramatic effect, “you are the new owner of this pair of tickets!” Waving the tickets in Ryeowook’s face, he said, “Go ask your girlfriend out, movie’s starting in two hours.” When Ryeowook took the tickets, Kyuhyun ruffled his hair (Ryeowook was so used to this he didn’t duck anymore) and walked past him to the living room where he began channel surfing.
Ryeowook touched his hair, its tips tingled and sent a soaring sensation straight to his stomach which dipped in response. Before he could make himself change his mind, before logic could stifle the clamor in him, he charged right up to Kyuhyun who merely looked up with faint bemusement, so unknowing that Ryeowook was almost at a loss for words.
Just almost.
“Do you want to go to the movies with me?”
. . . . .
Kyuhyun was a virus, easily infectious with happiness but also elementary in his power to harm. At least that was how Ryeowook saw him. He self-diagnosed himself to be at the primary stage, there was still time for treatment and cure must be just a clinic away. But then Kyuhyun ran up to him, smiling like he meant it and spilling popcorn all over himself and Ryeowook had to wonder.
“I mixed the sweet and salty popcorn, is that fine?”
“Exactly the way I like it,” Ryeowook said, taking a cluster and popping it into his mouth.
Then there were moments like this. Moments where Ryeowook thought Kyuhyun was a bookmark in his life. He had many bookmarks of course, each of them highlighting a significant period; broken knees at his first marathon, graduation, the ultimate revolution; leaving home. Kyuhyun tattooed himself into a page where Ryeowook thought he might have found the missing part of himself. They shared so many interests; they must be a fit. His reasoning was neat and simple; that was how he liked things to be.
“Come on, the show’s starting.” Kyuhyun dragged him out of his trance and into the movie theatre.
. . . . .
“I got you something.” Kyuhyun dropped something into Sungmin’s lap when they were home after the movie.
It was a Rilakkuma keychain. It was a black Rilakkuma keychain.
“It’s…black.” Sungmin dangled the little bear in mid air.
Kyuhyun threw himself on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Yeah, Halloween edition. I got Ryeowook one too.” Ryeowook mustered a weak smile behind him and flashed his own keychain.
“He has a regular Rilakkuma.”
“But black is your favourite color, isn’t it?” Kyuhyun twiddled his thumbs over his tummy, looking mightily pleased with himself.
Sungmin didn’t answer. He smoothed his thumb over the bear’s features. The metal strap felt cold as it robbed the heat from his fingers.
. . . . .
Routines are dangerous, they’d cage you in and rarely spit you out. But humans strived on habits; they invented them because predictability is essential for survival. Kind of.
So Kyuhyun was especially glad to find breakfast and Sungmin waiting for him every morning when he woke up. Sungmin had insisted that it was because Kyuhyun was depleting his supply of ice cream and chocolate. Then he remarked that Kyuhyun was going to die from his diet before he reached thirty. Kyuhyun had only grinned. All concern from Sungmin - regardless of its shape and form - was welcomed.
Another routine they had developed was Friday night at the movies. Like all other things, Kyuhyun couldn’t remember how it started. Every time they went though, Kyuhyun had gotten something for Sungmin. To commemorate his spiritual presence, he had declared, because Sungmin refused his invitation each time. The little gifts stood in a careless line on Sungmin’s study desk. There was the keychain, a mug with the words ‘I Haven’t had my Coffee Yet, Don’t Make Me Kill You’ inscribed on it and even a table sign with his name engraved on it.
“Why would I even need this?” Sungmin asked in amazement.
“You can use it in the lab,” Kyuhyun had replied cheerfully. But it never made its way out of the room.
All of them were black, all of them with an exact duplicate in varying colors in Ryeowook’s room. Except the table sign had ‘Kim Ryeowook’ carved on it, except they were in varying states of use.
As unaffected as Sungmin appeared to be about their movie dates, he was strangely not. In fact, he was a little disturbed. This came as a tiny shock to Sungmin because he shouldn’t feel vaguely insulted by pop culture but Kyuhyun and Ryeowook took their movie discussions very seriously and he found himself to be excluded even more so than before. There was once where they had an intense debate about a spinning top and Sungmin had to leave the dining table for a few minutes in order to Google it. He still didn’t have an ounce of understanding what they were talking about.
So one Friday night, he interrupted one of their many baffling exchanges and said with as much dispassion as he could manage, “I’m coming with you.”
. . . . .
“I don’t like my popcorn mixed.” Sungmin felt like a very sore thumb, one with a broken nail that was still attached at its ends; too ungainly not to pull off but also too painful to. It was clear as day that Kyuhyun and Ryeowook had a script they were already used to and he was the comma that punctuated the sentence.
“Give me a minute,” Kyuhyun said and took off in the direction of the snack bar.
“Wait…” But Kyuhyun was already gone. “Well, I’m going to the restroom.” And Sungmin was gone too.
Ryeowook honestly didn’t know how to feel about this. At least he didn’t have to pick out his preferred color for whatever it was that Kyuhyun had decided to get Sungmin for the night.
“You know, you really don’t need to get two of everything,” Ryeowook said cryptically when Kyuhyun returned with another bucket of popcorn.
“What are you talking about? I’m just getting popcorn.” Kyuhyun’s smile was one of Ryeowook’s favorite things in the world so he just shook his head and brought the ends of his lips up.
Later, Ryeowook saw Kyuhyun checking Sungmin’s reactions to the movie like what he always did to Kyuhyun and in that instant, Ryeowook knew.
He knew he was in trouble.
. . . . .
Sungmin was disappointed to discover that there was nothing spectacular about Friday night at the movies. He did, however, find solace in the fact that he was able to join in dinnertime conversations with considerable ease after that.
. . . . .
Sungmin noticed that they weren’t taking the usual route home after work that evening.
“Where are you heading to?”
Kyuhyun looked unsure as he fiddled with the multiple knobs. Wheesung’s singing voice rose and fell in the car. “Remember you owe me one? Just. Don’t ask.”
Sungmin shrugged and watched the outside world smeared into a blur as the convertible sped down the highway. He was startled out of his reverie when there was the distinct crunch of gravel under the wheels. The skies had put on a black cape and there was nothing but empty space all around them, the road had melted into a path made up of grass and pebbles.
“Are you sure we’re not lost?”
“Definitely maybe,” Kyuhyun replied tersely. Sungmin gave him the weird eye. He drove on and Sungmin could finally make out lights in the far distance, fierce and guiding in the dark. “Right,” Kyuhyun sounded like a mix of triumph and relief, “we’re okay.” He finally stopped when the night view of Seoul was right in front of them, a body of water away. Sungmin didn’t have to turn to check, he knew Kyuhyun was looking at him. He hoped he had the correct expression on his face.
“Shall we get out?” Kyuhyun moved to open the car door even before Sungmin could answer.
Sungmin got out of the car and was astonished to find the shoreline at his feet. The scope of Sungmin’s vision couldn’t hold in the ends of the view. It was like staring into a prism, jarring with colorful promises, bright secrets reflecting off the next available plane. Seoul at night shone as brightly as the day.
Sungmin stared at him and Kyuhyun wondered if he looked as foolish as he felt. “What are we doing here?” There was a bite to his words. Kyuhyun tried deep breathing.
“There’s a monthly light show going on, I just thought it would be nice to watch it together.” There were faint sounds of music in the background. “It’s starting.” Kyuhyun pointed at the skyscrapers squashed together in the near horizon. Green, blue, pink, yellow laser lights were slicing across the sky, piercing into the unknown miles away.
But Sungmin couldn’t see, couldn’t even lift his head. There was another world he was now trapped in. The darkness pushed against his will, like crowded butterflies trapped in a jar. He tried to grip the edge, tried to heave himself up. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. It had been so long. But there was no control. Then he was walking away; fleeing from the scene.
His steps were jerky, he tripped again and again on the gravel path. He couldn’t see the way, damn it, he couldn’t see. It was so dark away from the lights. He didn’t want to cry. Kyuhyun was there to catch him the next fall. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Concern, puzzlement and hurt played out on his face.
“I’m not well, I’m going home,” Sungmin struggled weakly against Kyuhyun’s grip on his arm, still trying to make his way forward.
“Ok, we’ll go home now. I’ll get the car. Please, jus-“
“I can’t see.” Sungmin cut Kyuhyun off. The sudden admission sounded like it was ripped from him. His free hand tightened into a loose fist at his temple. He had that empty look in his eyes again. Kyuhyun could tell Sungmin was looking through him into the shadows.
“What do you mean? Of course, you can see.” Kyuhyun was suddenly afraid.
“I can’t see,” Sungmin repeated. His voice was dead and hollow, like it was coming up from the bottom of a well, just an echo of the real thing.
“I can only see black and white.”
Sungmin tried to free himself again, this time Kyuhyun let him go.
. . . . .
‘I have to run’, this was Sungmin’s sole conscious thought as he stumbled through the opening and started to run. There were the screeching of tires, honks and shouts but it didn’t register on Sungmin that he was on the highway until his hands flew out instinctively to break his fall and there was granite beneath his palms, cutting unmistakably into his skin.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” A pair of boots made rough sounds as it gritted against the granite and stopped before Sungmin. “Get up,” a boot nudged Sungmin’s side. But he was incapable of moving, shock had overpowered his senses. “Fuck,” another loud curse, “they’re coming.”
Strong arms grasped Sungmin, pulled him up and dragged him over to a red car. The engine was still running. The man opened the door and shoved Sungmin into the shotgun seat. Then he sprinted over to the other side and got into the driver’s seat.
“Buckle up. I’m not sure if we’re going to end up in hell.”
to be continued
p.s.: if you’re reading this in year 20XX, inception was a very famous dream in 2010 k. and i know a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream was not what it was all about but, yeah. btw, edit with vogue movie of the moment when you're reading it ok?
p.p.s.: light show idea totally stolen from hong kong, victoria harbor. i'm so original omg.
p.p.p.s.: beta caught another non-existent word in fic, but i changed it and killed the corner
p.p.p.p.s.: halloween rilakkuma is NOT black. there are just orange capes and pumpkins~~
p.p.p.p.p.s.: bloopers. originally planned to unlock this post at end of fic but i will no doubt still be writing this fic a year later and some jokes will become old, hence. it will be updated from time to time :3
p.p.p.p.p.p.s.: 周小小觅~~~在那里？:(
edit: sungmin was colorblind, in case i was being vague about it ._.
Pairing: Kyumin
Rating: PG13 (rn)
Word Count: ~5,100
Summary: Sungmin is a greeting card writer. He's good only at sympathy cards and rude only to Dr. Cho.
Beta: teexsaurus. i have nothing good to say about this sexy beast rn.
Chapter 8: 三人行（不行）| Three’s a Party
Kyuhyun was aware that excessive alcohol consumption could impede the process of memory creation. Various independent studies had shown a relation between alcohol intake and the inability to create long-term memories. He wondered what four beakers of boiled beer were capable of. Given the previous experience he had with a drunken Sungmin, he was half expecting him to forget what had happened last night. The other half of him was entertaining some warped fantasies which were too foolish to say out loud but to provide a gist, let’s just say that they involved a beach, some running, a hug and flailing, lots of it.
What he didn’t expect, however, was for Sungmin to be genuinely apologetic.
“I’m sorry.” Sungmin chewed his lower lip profusely.
Kyuhyun wanted to turn and run from this. Or at least come up with a nonchalant enough response to show that he was man enough to handle rejection. ‘Hold on, is this a rejection? Did I even propose anything at all?’ He waited for his large brain to come up with a coherent explanation. It threw up a lot of equations and theories but he didn’t think they fitted at all. Why didn’t he minor in psychology?
Because the School of Psychology was a good fifteen minute walk away from the School of Science, you lazy arse, his brain answered. ‘Now this, this is correct,’ Kyuhyun thought and was relieved to find that he could still reason well.
“I,” Sungmin started.
“Yes,” Kyuhyun said, all out of breath from anxiety.
Sungmin’s frown intensified. “I jumped you last night. We,” He sank his teeth deeper into his lip, “we had lip contact, didn’t we?”
“What? Oh. You mean we kissed,” Kyuhyun replied dumbly. Then he blinked away rapidly and a shade of dark red tinged the tops of his ears.
“Hmm,” Sungmin tapped a finger against his temple as if he could draw out his thoughts by the act alone. “I imagine kissing will involve a range of emotions, or at least some affection between two people.”
“What makes you think we, I,” Kyuhyun ran up dead against himself. He discovered he didn’t quite know how to define this thing between the two of them.
Worse, he realized he was the only one confused.
“I know this is very upsetting. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sincerely sorry, Dr. Cho.” Kyuhyun wanted very much to haul a packet of frozen endothelial cells at Sungmin’s face.
“Don’t call me that,” He snapped. “And stop biting your lip, I can’t think.” It seemed absurd to be angry, embarrassing even. But anger worked like a fallout shelter, shielding him from all these emotional debris. It was safe. So despite his mortification, the heat continued to creep onto Kyuhyun’s skin. He waited for the invasion to still. When he found out he needed more than just time, he got up from the lab bench, punched in the correct combination to the lock and escaped from those suffocating white walls.
. . . . .
What Kyuhyun didn’t know was that he was as much of an enigma to Sungmin as Sungmin was to him.
“I was sent to rescue you.” Donghae sang after he released Sungmin from the confines of the cell culture lab in the afternoon. He was all bright smiles and rainbows. Sungmin turned away from the glare.
He took a few steps forward before stopping. “Is he…angry?” Sungmin asked tentatively.
“Who? Kyuhyun? I don’t think so. He said he’s tired and took the day off though.”
Sungmin stared at his feet in dismal. He couldn’t even work up his own anger at being locked up overnight in the lab. The truth was he had taken advantage of Dr. Cho when he was drunk. But did it warrant such anger? Maybe that was his sensitive spot. Maybe it mattered to him like how cats matter to a batshit crazy cat lady, like how wigs matter to Siwon, he reasoned to himself. He worried his lip again, stopping when he realized what he was doing.
“Say, want to help me with some experiments again?” Donghae flung an arm over Sungmin’s shoulders. “We have some fresh pig hearts arriving today,” he whispered conspiratorially into Sungmin’s ear, like it was some particularly enticing treat.
Sungmin took a respite from his worrying. “Is it going to involve nitric acid again?” His hand flew instinctively to his right eyebrow.
“No, we’re going to have fun with electricity this time.” Donghae’s brows were wiggling most suggestively.
How the hell was that supposed to be reassuring. “But I really need to go to the bathroom first.” Sungmin crossed his legs and grimaced.
Donghae looked a little scared. He moved away from Sungmin. “Please do.”
. . . . .
When Sungmin returned home with burnt fingertips that evening, Kyuhyun had already retreated to his room. He fretted all night picking out his lines, in case Kyuhyun chose to make an entrance to the living room for his daily scoop of drama. But only Ryeowook appeared with a bowl of almond pudding.
“Want some?” He placed the pudding on the coffee table and sat down carefully on the couch beside Sungmin. Just another night of TV.
“No…” Sungmin plucked the threads of the cushion cover loose.
“So,” Ryeowook fiddled with the remote control. “You weren’t around yesterday…” The word floated off with a trail, an ambiguous movie ending without an audience.
“Yeah…”
Ryeowook switched the channel. “Kyuhyun wasn’t around too.” He switched it again. And again. There was nothing good on TV, he felt like a nomadic couch potato.
“Yeah…”
Unconsciously scratching the ‘mute’ rubber button on the remote, Ryeowook had all his attention on the ugly vase beside the TV.
“We were locked up in the lab.” It was spoken like a fact, so devoid of emotion that it forbade Ryeowook to seek out anymore answers. But it wasn’t like he still had any unfilled blanks in his mind.
They ended up watching a French drama sans subtitles and with the sound muted.
. . . . .
. . . . .
“You know,” Sungmin muttered to the plate of kimchi,. “that was my first kiss. So really, what does he have to complain about?”
And that was really just it. The reason why those threads of angry disappointment bled out of his open wound and dissolved without a trace. Sungmin talking to kimchi. Kyuhyun wanted to cry with the unfairness of it. ‘Why am I so easy?’ he asked himself. To redeem whatever was left of his dignity, Kyuhyun decided to fake his anger.
Sungmin’s head jerked up when he heard the shuffle of footsteps. “Good morning,” he said cautiously. ‘Good morning cannot be wrong,’ Sungmin had a witty debate with himself a few minutes earlier (hence Ryeowook left without saying goodbye because he didn’t want to disturb his riveting monologue), ‘Good morning is neutral, Good morning is frigging Switzerland.’ “Breakfast?” He gestured awkwardly towards the bowls of rice, seaweed soup and plates of kimchi on the dining table.
Without a word, Kyuhyun settled into a chair and dug in. Sungmin bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t start a lecture on the importance of teeth cleaning. Hastily, he scampered to sit opposite Kyuhyun at the table.
“You are a terrible person.”
“I am a terrible person.”
“You owe me one.” Kyuhyun shoveled some rice into his mouth.
“I owe you one,” Sungmin replied very seriously with an affirmative nod of the head. After half a heartbeat he added, “As long as it’s not anything against the conscience because you have very little of that.” The last few words were practically whispered.
Kyuhyun couldn’t resist a grin, couldn’t resist a tiny burst of euphoria from smoothing down the curled corners of his mood. He picked up a piece of kimchi only to drop it the next instance. “Eh, that was your first kiss?” He jabbed his chopsticks in the direction of Sungmin.
“The seaweed is very fresh,” Sungmin scarfed down a whole length of seaweed and promptly choked on it.
‘Sungmin is thick,’ Kyuhyun theorized, like a nucleus with too many maddening layers of orbiting electrons but oh, he’d wait. If anything, Kyuhyun was a man of patience. And if what he had wasn’t enough, he would buy it, steal it, hijack a plane for it.
Then he would use it to trade whatever the future had to promise.
. . . . .
In Kyuhyun’s lab, the same day
Kyuhyun thought it was extremely cute the way Sungmin fought his safety goggles. They were dangling dangerously off his nose and the chick had to push it all the way up every now and then. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much length for a nose and the goggles kept sliding off together with his heavy glasses. Kyuhyun actually didn’t have plans to be alone with Sungmin in the lab today since he was busy with work in the cell culture lab and Sungmin usually hung out in the work station unless he had an urgent need to understand some weird (read: scientific) terms in Kyuhyun’s reports or observe Kyuhyun at work so he could ‘write a coherent article in a manner befitting of a reporter of a science magazine’ even if he ‘can’t tell the difference between polyethylene and polypropylene, why do people name plastic?’.
But here Sungmin was, insisting on helping Kyuhyun even though the scientist had told him it was fine. Maybe it had something to do with the appearance of Donghae who was dragging around with him some cables and showering them with fairly moronic smiles through the lab’s window.
“Is there something wrong with his hair again? I thought he just straightened it after that explosion.”
“Please,” Sungmin had pled, “let me help you.” Kyuhyun would later boast about the speed with which Sungmin could don a lab coat but no one would believe him.
Thus, Sungmin now sat beside him in front of the culture hood, trying to decipher the mysteries of his experiments while he engaged in warfare with those goggles. “Get that flask for me,” Kyuhyun said, hands all tied up with his work. He nodded towards the far left of the room where three flasks stood on top of a cabinet.
“Which one?” Sungmin got up and strolled over.
“The one with the red cap.”
“Which one?”
Kyuhyun looked up and saw Sungmin standing in front of him, hugging all three flasks to his chest. “This one.” He plucked the flask out of Sungmin’s embrace. As he did so, Sungmin’s glasses fell down the bridge of his nose again, taking the goggles with them. With his hands occupied, Sungmin could only wrinkle his nose vigorously in the hope that’d help push the goggles up.
Kyuhyun laughed, the bright sound slashed across the background noise of dead humming machines. “Let me help you.” Kyuhyun placed the flask in the hood and a rubber band materialized out of nowhere in his hands. He stood up from his seat and suddenly clasped his hands around Sungmin’s neck. He advanced while Sungmin leaned back as far as he could.
“What,” Sungmin asked when he could no longer move without toppling over, “are you doing?”
“Being nice.” The words were whispered into Sungmin’s right ear. It was ticklish so he nudged his ear against Kyuhyun’s arm.
Kyuhyun pulled back and with a dead serious look on his face, he started to fasten the rubber band around the temple tips of Sungmin’s goggles so that it would hold them in place.
Then he lingered.
It was a clumsy half hug, with Kyuhyun’s elbows resting on Sungmin’s shoulder tops and two one-liter flasks between the two of them; one of which was digging most persistently into his ribs. He directed his vision on the third test tube from the right of the test tube rack in the hood - there was a chip at the mouth and the haphazardly cleaned tube had an iridescent gleam to it - because it would be too much to look into Sungmin’s eyes right now.
It was a beautiful moment for Kyuhyun.
“I’m getting crossed eyed from staring at your nose.”
Kyuhyun dropped his arms and resumed his place at the hood. “Better?”
Smooth.
Sungmin’s nose took on a life of its own as it scrunched up, flared its nostrils and wiggled from left to right. But his goggles and glasses stayed perfectly perched on it. “Yeah,” he said while he replaced those flasks and took his seat beside Kyuhyun. “Thank you.”
Kyuhyun’s smile in reply was only a little broken in its corners so Sungmin didn’t notice.
. . . . .
“Glasses are really bothersome.”
Kyuhyun was just pulling out of the parking lot at the end of the day when Sungmin decided to make a statement about his life in glasses.
“I imagine they would be,” Kyuhyun said, entirely distracted by peak hour traffic.
“Do you wear contact lenses?” Sungmin was suddenly too close.
The car swerved a little out of its lane.
“Do you want us to die!” Kyuhyun exclaimed, freeing a hand from the wheel to curl over his heart, as if the act could calm it.
Sungmin continued to peer right into Kyuhyun’s eyes. “You do wear them.” The tone was strangely accusatory, not unlike that usually used on a lost ally.
“Yes, well, I’m terribly sorry for failing your standards.” He pushed Sungmin back into his seat.
“How does it feel wearing them?” Sungmin strained against his seatbelt as he struggled to lean forward again.
“What do you mean? There is a film of plastic sticking on to the eyeball, how do you think that feels? You kinda forget it soon after, but sometimes you get complacent enough to stab your eye in the morning while you’re putting it on. That’s it.”
“I tried putting them on once,” Sungmin confessed his deep dark secret in a small voice, “but I forgot to remove my glasses.”
“Nice,” Kyuhyun chortled, flitting a sideway glance at Sungmin. “Well then, why didn’t you just peel it off those glasses and put it back on?”
Sungmin’s mouth fell open slightly, his eyes just slightly unfocused when he turned to Kyuhyun. He looked as if a hand had pried open his mouth, reached into his throat and stole all his words from him. After what seemed like a long while, he said hesitantly, “I, I think that must be a sign to stop trying or something.” Sungmin lifted a hand to his eyes; those fingertips trailed a light path over his lids. Kyuhyun wondered if he knew what he was doing, even though his fingers must be cutting into his line of vision. He had the impression that Sungmin was looking into emptiness. “I don’t like my eyes very much.”
“Are you okay?” Kyuhyun had a feeling Sungmin was not.
Sungmin whipped his head up, consciousness slipping back into his gaze. “Yeah, yeah, just thinking about…stuff.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“I like your eyes,” Kyuhyun stated as he rounded a bend. There was nothing meaningful in his voice, just a light tensity in the way he clutched the gear.
But Sungmin ignored him. “Do you think I should start wearing contacts?”
Kyuhyun took a long time pondering this. Sungmin had his stare diverted on the rocketing scenery outside the window so he couldn’t tell if he was waiting for an answer. “I think,” Kyuhyun finally shattered the thin glass of noisy static that had been building around them as he parked the car back at their apartment, “you’re perfectly fine just the way you are.”
There was something queer in the way Sungmin gaped at him, like he was an analog of something in his past, complete with a dash of recognition.
“You are the second person to ever say that to me.”
Kyuhyun was about to ask who was the first but Sungmin had already hopped out of the car.
“You know, it’s Friday night,” he said when he caught up with Sungmin at the lift.
Sungmin pressed the lift button, seemingly sober now. “I know it’s Friday night.”
“So, I was wondering if you want to catch a movie?” Kyuhyun grasped the pair of movie tickets in his jeans pocket for good luck. Then he panicked. “Of course, I understand that as a perfectly normal person, it is likely that you would already have plans. Dinner plans or maybe just hanging out at a club for drinks, not that you should be drinking anything since you just can’t, or a night out in town. Because,” his hand flew out of his pocket and made pointless grappling motions as if to seize inspiration by its neck, “it’s Friday night.” Those hands fell helplessly to his sides.
The elevator’s doors slid open. Sungmin walked up to their door and opened it, but not before he casted a shifty look behind him.
There were odd muffled sounds emitting from the door opposite theirs.
“What movie is that?”
Kyuhyun dogged Sungmin’s footsteps. He closed the front door and followed Sungmin into his room where he was already pulling out his black pajamas from the wardrobe. “It’s called Inception.” He bustled around Sungmin hopefully. “It’s about having a dream within a dream while a person is within another dream.” Kyuhyun scowled. Why did the blockbuster sound so stupid now?
“What did you just say?” Sungmin stopped gathering his clothes and gave Kyuhyun his full attention.
“Leonardo Dicaprio is in it.” Kyuhyun held his breath.
It worked. Sungmin actually looked interested for a second. But then he said, “Nay…I think I’d rather stay home. Thanks for the invitation though.” And then he made a beeline for the bathroom.
Kyuhyun didn’t waste a lot of time moping over Sungmin’s retreating back. He pulled out those tickets from his pocket and stared at them instead. The corners were folded in from spending the entire day in his pocket, the printed letters on them now seemed faded and old, like all discarded things are. It’d been only a day and he tossed yet another small scar aside.
‘Time is on my side’, Kyuhyun reminded himself again.
Eventual is a great thing to wait for.
. . . . .
Ryeowook was on his way to his room when Kyuhyun exited from the other room. “Hey Ryeowook, you sure are lucky tonight.” He winked at him.
“What makes you say that?” Ryeowook asked, biting fully on the dangling bait.
“Because…” Kyuhyun smiled slyly, he paused for dramatic effect, “you are the new owner of this pair of tickets!” Waving the tickets in Ryeowook’s face, he said, “Go ask your girlfriend out, movie’s starting in two hours.” When Ryeowook took the tickets, Kyuhyun ruffled his hair (Ryeowook was so used to this he didn’t duck anymore) and walked past him to the living room where he began channel surfing.
Ryeowook touched his hair, its tips tingled and sent a soaring sensation straight to his stomach which dipped in response. Before he could make himself change his mind, before logic could stifle the clamor in him, he charged right up to Kyuhyun who merely looked up with faint bemusement, so unknowing that Ryeowook was almost at a loss for words.
Just almost.
“Do you want to go to the movies with me?”
. . . . .
Kyuhyun was a virus, easily infectious with happiness but also elementary in his power to harm. At least that was how Ryeowook saw him. He self-diagnosed himself to be at the primary stage, there was still time for treatment and cure must be just a clinic away. But then Kyuhyun ran up to him, smiling like he meant it and spilling popcorn all over himself and Ryeowook had to wonder.
“I mixed the sweet and salty popcorn, is that fine?”
“Exactly the way I like it,” Ryeowook said, taking a cluster and popping it into his mouth.
Then there were moments like this. Moments where Ryeowook thought Kyuhyun was a bookmark in his life. He had many bookmarks of course, each of them highlighting a significant period; broken knees at his first marathon, graduation, the ultimate revolution; leaving home. Kyuhyun tattooed himself into a page where Ryeowook thought he might have found the missing part of himself. They shared so many interests; they must be a fit. His reasoning was neat and simple; that was how he liked things to be.
“Come on, the show’s starting.” Kyuhyun dragged him out of his trance and into the movie theatre.
. . . . .
“I got you something.” Kyuhyun dropped something into Sungmin’s lap when they were home after the movie.
It was a Rilakkuma keychain. It was a black Rilakkuma keychain.
“It’s…black.” Sungmin dangled the little bear in mid air.
Kyuhyun threw himself on the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “Yeah, Halloween edition. I got Ryeowook one too.” Ryeowook mustered a weak smile behind him and flashed his own keychain.
“He has a regular Rilakkuma.”
“But black is your favourite color, isn’t it?” Kyuhyun twiddled his thumbs over his tummy, looking mightily pleased with himself.
Sungmin didn’t answer. He smoothed his thumb over the bear’s features. The metal strap felt cold as it robbed the heat from his fingers.
. . . . .
Routines are dangerous, they’d cage you in and rarely spit you out. But humans strived on habits; they invented them because predictability is essential for survival. Kind of.
So Kyuhyun was especially glad to find breakfast and Sungmin waiting for him every morning when he woke up. Sungmin had insisted that it was because Kyuhyun was depleting his supply of ice cream and chocolate. Then he remarked that Kyuhyun was going to die from his diet before he reached thirty. Kyuhyun had only grinned. All concern from Sungmin - regardless of its shape and form - was welcomed.
Another routine they had developed was Friday night at the movies. Like all other things, Kyuhyun couldn’t remember how it started. Every time they went though, Kyuhyun had gotten something for Sungmin. To commemorate his spiritual presence, he had declared, because Sungmin refused his invitation each time. The little gifts stood in a careless line on Sungmin’s study desk. There was the keychain, a mug with the words ‘I Haven’t had my Coffee Yet, Don’t Make Me Kill You’ inscribed on it and even a table sign with his name engraved on it.
“Why would I even need this?” Sungmin asked in amazement.
“You can use it in the lab,” Kyuhyun had replied cheerfully. But it never made its way out of the room.
All of them were black, all of them with an exact duplicate in varying colors in Ryeowook’s room. Except the table sign had ‘Kim Ryeowook’ carved on it, except they were in varying states of use.
As unaffected as Sungmin appeared to be about their movie dates, he was strangely not. In fact, he was a little disturbed. This came as a tiny shock to Sungmin because he shouldn’t feel vaguely insulted by pop culture but Kyuhyun and Ryeowook took their movie discussions very seriously and he found himself to be excluded even more so than before. There was once where they had an intense debate about a spinning top and Sungmin had to leave the dining table for a few minutes in order to Google it. He still didn’t have an ounce of understanding what they were talking about.
So one Friday night, he interrupted one of their many baffling exchanges and said with as much dispassion as he could manage, “I’m coming with you.”
. . . . .
“I don’t like my popcorn mixed.” Sungmin felt like a very sore thumb, one with a broken nail that was still attached at its ends; too ungainly not to pull off but also too painful to. It was clear as day that Kyuhyun and Ryeowook had a script they were already used to and he was the comma that punctuated the sentence.
“Give me a minute,” Kyuhyun said and took off in the direction of the snack bar.
“Wait…” But Kyuhyun was already gone. “Well, I’m going to the restroom.” And Sungmin was gone too.
Ryeowook honestly didn’t know how to feel about this. At least he didn’t have to pick out his preferred color for whatever it was that Kyuhyun had decided to get Sungmin for the night.
“You know, you really don’t need to get two of everything,” Ryeowook said cryptically when Kyuhyun returned with another bucket of popcorn.
“What are you talking about? I’m just getting popcorn.” Kyuhyun’s smile was one of Ryeowook’s favorite things in the world so he just shook his head and brought the ends of his lips up.
Later, Ryeowook saw Kyuhyun checking Sungmin’s reactions to the movie like what he always did to Kyuhyun and in that instant, Ryeowook knew.
He knew he was in trouble.
. . . . .
Sungmin was disappointed to discover that there was nothing spectacular about Friday night at the movies. He did, however, find solace in the fact that he was able to join in dinnertime conversations with considerable ease after that.
. . . . .
Sungmin noticed that they weren’t taking the usual route home after work that evening.
“Where are you heading to?”
Kyuhyun looked unsure as he fiddled with the multiple knobs. Wheesung’s singing voice rose and fell in the car. “Remember you owe me one? Just. Don’t ask.”
Sungmin shrugged and watched the outside world smeared into a blur as the convertible sped down the highway. He was startled out of his reverie when there was the distinct crunch of gravel under the wheels. The skies had put on a black cape and there was nothing but empty space all around them, the road had melted into a path made up of grass and pebbles.
“Are you sure we’re not lost?”
“Definitely maybe,” Kyuhyun replied tersely. Sungmin gave him the weird eye. He drove on and Sungmin could finally make out lights in the far distance, fierce and guiding in the dark. “Right,” Kyuhyun sounded like a mix of triumph and relief, “we’re okay.” He finally stopped when the night view of Seoul was right in front of them, a body of water away. Sungmin didn’t have to turn to check, he knew Kyuhyun was looking at him. He hoped he had the correct expression on his face.
“Shall we get out?” Kyuhyun moved to open the car door even before Sungmin could answer.
Sungmin got out of the car and was astonished to find the shoreline at his feet. The scope of Sungmin’s vision couldn’t hold in the ends of the view. It was like staring into a prism, jarring with colorful promises, bright secrets reflecting off the next available plane. Seoul at night shone as brightly as the day.
Sungmin stared at him and Kyuhyun wondered if he looked as foolish as he felt. “What are we doing here?” There was a bite to his words. Kyuhyun tried deep breathing.
“There’s a monthly light show going on, I just thought it would be nice to watch it together.” There were faint sounds of music in the background. “It’s starting.” Kyuhyun pointed at the skyscrapers squashed together in the near horizon. Green, blue, pink, yellow laser lights were slicing across the sky, piercing into the unknown miles away.
But Sungmin couldn’t see, couldn’t even lift his head. There was another world he was now trapped in. The darkness pushed against his will, like crowded butterflies trapped in a jar. He tried to grip the edge, tried to heave himself up. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. It had been so long. But there was no control. Then he was walking away; fleeing from the scene.
His steps were jerky, he tripped again and again on the gravel path. He couldn’t see the way, damn it, he couldn’t see. It was so dark away from the lights. He didn’t want to cry. Kyuhyun was there to catch him the next fall. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Concern, puzzlement and hurt played out on his face.
“I’m not well, I’m going home,” Sungmin struggled weakly against Kyuhyun’s grip on his arm, still trying to make his way forward.
“Ok, we’ll go home now. I’ll get the car. Please, jus-“
“I can’t see.” Sungmin cut Kyuhyun off. The sudden admission sounded like it was ripped from him. His free hand tightened into a loose fist at his temple. He had that empty look in his eyes again. Kyuhyun could tell Sungmin was looking through him into the shadows.
“What do you mean? Of course, you can see.” Kyuhyun was suddenly afraid.
“I can’t see,” Sungmin repeated. His voice was dead and hollow, like it was coming up from the bottom of a well, just an echo of the real thing.
“I can only see black and white.”
Sungmin tried to free himself again, this time Kyuhyun let him go.
. . . . .
‘I have to run’, this was Sungmin’s sole conscious thought as he stumbled through the opening and started to run. There were the screeching of tires, honks and shouts but it didn’t register on Sungmin that he was on the highway until his hands flew out instinctively to break his fall and there was granite beneath his palms, cutting unmistakably into his skin.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” A pair of boots made rough sounds as it gritted against the granite and stopped before Sungmin. “Get up,” a boot nudged Sungmin’s side. But he was incapable of moving, shock had overpowered his senses. “Fuck,” another loud curse, “they’re coming.”
Strong arms grasped Sungmin, pulled him up and dragged him over to a red car. The engine was still running. The man opened the door and shoved Sungmin into the shotgun seat. Then he sprinted over to the other side and got into the driver’s seat.
“Buckle up. I’m not sure if we’re going to end up in hell.”
to be continued
p.s.: if you’re reading this in year 20XX, inception was a very famous dream in 2010 k. and i know a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream was not what it was all about but, yeah. btw, edit with vogue movie of the moment when you're reading it ok?
p.p.s.: light show idea totally stolen from hong kong, victoria harbor. i'm so original omg.
p.p.p.s.: beta caught another non-existent word in fic, but i changed it and killed the corner
p.p.p.p.s.: halloween rilakkuma is NOT black. there are just orange capes and pumpkins~~
p.p.p.p.p.s.: bloopers. originally planned to unlock this post at end of fic but i will no doubt still be writing this fic a year later and some jokes will become old, hence. it will be updated from time to time :3
p.p.p.p.p.p.s.: 周小小觅~~~在那里？:(
edit: sungmin was colorblind, in case i was being vague about it ._.