understanding (when sehun can't and only jongin can)
Title: understanding (when sehun can't and only jongin can)
Pairing: sekai
Genre: romance; slight angst
Rating: PG-13
Length: one-shot; 7,350 words
Summary: Sometimes Sehun looks at Jongin and wonders what he did to be blessed with someone as perfect and godlike to keep him company. Other times he looks at Jongin and feels this unfathomable sense of loathing within the recesses of his heart that he just can’t explain.
Sehun doesn’t understand Jongin. He never has, and he doesn’t think that he ever will.
But when he really, really thinks about it, he supposes that maybe he was just never meant to.
“Kai,” he would breathe softly as they walked side-by-side past the park; the slightly older male fidgeting with the dying light of a lit cigarette and his younger companion looking at him with that blank expression of his that said everything but nothing at the same time. “Kai. Kai. Kai.” He wasn’t particularly sure what exactly it was about the nature of the syllable-the only name that he truly knew him by-but there was something about it that gave him a sort of solace. So every day after another treacherous experience at school, Sehun would whisper the name repeatedly to himself, “Kai. Kai. Kai.”
Sometimes Jongin would respond. But most of the time, he just really couldn’t be bothered.
On the rare day that he would acknowledge the younger male’s existence, he would simply roll his eyes and mutter, “What is it now?”
And perhaps it was just because the occurrence was so rare, but Sehun always found that he could never find a response to the halfhearted question.
(Does there have to be a reason why? I just like the sound of your name, he would think. But something told him that if he confessed to something like that, the older male wouldn’t respond positively to it. And Sehun didn’t want to think about that possibility.)
“Nothing,” he would murmur. And Jongin would look at him skeptically, before kicking at the dirt below his worn high-tops, mumbling something about how Sehun was forgetful and needed to hurry up and remember already because he was beginning to get tired of their routine.
Not that Sehun would ever notice. Because by the time Jongin started mumbling to himself again, Sehun had recommenced repeating that syllable once more, “Kai. Kai. Kai.”
And Jongin would sigh quietly, but Sehun would never take note of that soft exhale. Because his mind was swimming with images of tanned skin intertwined with pale white; of soft caresses in the darkness to remind him that he was never truly alone; of whispers of encouragement in the face of danger, swearing that his Sehunnie can do whatever it is that he needs to because he’s invincible. And with each whisper of that single syllable, the images would sharpen, and Sehun could feel his senses heighten because it was just so real. The Kai in his mind was so real and was standing next to him and just the idea of it sent his heart soaring.
But Jongin already knew this. And it pained him to know it.
Yet he would never utter a word. He couldn’t bear to crush the mirage that the youngster had created.
So he continues to ignore him, and instead moves to push the remnants of a cigarette flush against his skin, not even wincing when the ashes singe his flesh.
He’s okay with the pain.
---
Sehun doesn’t understand Jongin. He never has, and he doesn’t think that he ever will.
And this fact pisses him off to no end because Kai is arrogant and a jackass and doesn’t feel any guilt when he treats the younger male like absolute shit.
“Kai,” he would mumble angrily as they walked towards the large estate which they shared; the slightly older male arrogantly breathing a puff of venomous smoke into Sehun’s face and the young man clenching his fists together as tight as possible in a wry attempt to keep his anger in check. “Kai. Kai. Kai.” He dipped each syllable in poison, before allowing it to cut through the air in a jagged pattern. His mind longed to devise another word-anything but that horrid name, any utterance that would spare his diaphragm from filling up with acid; spare his throat from running dry; spare his chest from exploding with an uncanny and unexplainable rage-but there was some sort of addicting nature to those vile three letters.
And unfortunately, it was an addiction that Sehun found he could not quit.
“Kai. Kai. Kai.”
Kai groaned, caramel fingers reaching up to remove the cancer stick from his lips, “What is it now?”
The younger male always supposed that it was the sharp tone of his companion’s voice that always snapped him out of his mantra. His lips would still be parted as though he had the intention to speak, but nothing would escape-save for a soft sound that was emitted from the base of his throat; but Sehun could never identify what it was or what it meant, so he refused to believe that it was real.
(It was funny how the one thing that could stop his continuous script was the subject of said script himself, he would think. And there was just some strange thing about this concept that would send a chill down Sehun’s spine and his toes curling within his worn Converse. Not that he would say anything about it, of course.)
“Nothing,” he would manage through grit teeth, the lie burning his tongue and nearly making him wince.
Kai would roll his eyes and nudge the younger male next to him meaningfully-a warning.
Jongin would frown-his brows knitting together in a worry meant for someone with more years, more experience, more wisdom.
A worry that shouldn’t have been meant for him.
The cigarette in his fingers is being consumed by nature’s air itself rather than his lungs, but he’s beginning to find that maybe he doesn’t really care. There is some feeling of foreboding eating at the pit of his stomach, but Jongin can’t identify what it is or what it means, so he refuses to acknowledge it.
He knows that he should say something. Anything actually.
But by the time his mind has strung enough words together to make a coherent phrase, Sehun has recommenced his fuming whispers, “Kai. Kai. Kai.”
And every day, this would make a piece of Jongin’s heart shatter. Because he knew that inside the mind of his younger friend there were only images of light brown clashing with tainted white; screaming matches in the darkness continuing until the sun’s rays would frighten away the possessive demons with their streams of light; jabs and insults at every possible moment, mocking tones and crushing words that would be enough to destroy any human.
Each syllable that escaped Sehun’s lips felt like another stab into his very soul-a writhing knife dipped in cyanide, guiltlessly draining the ever decreasing hopes that Jongin managed to somehow hold onto; making the darkness of the setting sky all the more real and intimidating and just horrifying.
Kai laughs.
Somehow Jongin is able to manipulate his shaky fingers enough to crush the remnants of his cigarette against his bare skin.
He welcomes the pain.
And the shadow over Jongin’s lanky frame seems larger than ever as they continued their walk home.
---
In all reality, sometimes Jongin feels like he just doesn’t understand himself.
It’s like there are these conflicting emotions in his head, these contrasting ideas threatening to make him burst from the inside. And no matter how many pills he takes or how many cigarettes he inhales, his splitting headache remains ever present. It’s not the physical sort of pain that one would expect from a headache though. No, Jongin’s headaches are the sort of headaches that you feel when you’re sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and there’s something inside your mind poking out at your thoughts, begging to be released… But it just doesn’t know how. It’s this itching feeling that something’s not right, that everything has a greater meaning… But not being able to understand what it is. His head is split with confusion, and it makes him fidget uncomfortably next to Sehun, who is mindlessly whispering that name over and over again.
It’s the presence of the younger boy that soothes him slightly, but when the face beside his turns to look at him, there are only glossy eyes and the whisper of, “Kai, is everything alright?”
And Jongin is shaking because he knows that everything is not alright. He knows that there’s something inside him screaming at him and telling him that it’s not alright, but he doesn’t know what that something is and it scares him.
He wants to ignore it. He’s going to ignore it.
(If you listen, they’ll only hurt you, a small voice whispers in his head, and Jongin can almost swear that the voice that says this is one that he has heard before, but cannot exactly recall. It only adds to his headache.)
He and Sehun have been waiting in their classroom for their individual teachers to arrive onto the scene to cart them away from one another for what feels like ages now. The empty waiting room is haunting in a way that he knows shouldn’t be haunting. He should feel comfortable. He comes here every day, so why is he suddenly beginning to feel so anxious? It wasn’t right. It didn’t make sense.
For some reason, Jongin feels his fingers twitching and concludes that he needs to take a puff out of his cigarette.
He murmurs his temporary departure to the pale figure behind him out of habit, already knowing that the younger male probably wouldn’t notice his absence at all. With a flick of his lighter and a long inhalation, Jongin’s lungs fill with smoke, putting him at ease.
“Kai?” The voice shocks him out of his short reverie, causing him to burn himself with the cigarette yet again as he turns to face a short man in a white lab coat. “It’s time for classes to begin. Sehun is already with his instructor.”
The cancer stick has already burned itself out on the hard concrete of the school’s courtyard, and perhaps if he didn’t have such an ego to maintain, Jongin would have allowed himself a short whimper. Part of him is screaming for that familiar warmth inside his chest; that freedom from agonizing thought; the pure bliss that the drug offers him, so much so that he almost scrambles to the ground to pick it up once more and attempt to relight it. However, the other part is screaming at him about how his class is about to start and that he shouldn’t miss it lest they punish both him and Sehun.
It seems as though his teacher realizes that there was some internal conflict going on within the young boy regarding the situation. He tuts annoyingly, before muttering, “You were making a lot of progress yesterday, Jongin.” The name makes the young man go frigid, all thoughts about drugs and punishment instantly fleeing his mind as he whips his head up to look at him.
Jongin. Yes. Yes, that sounds correct. Your name is Jongin. Not Kai. Where did Kai from? Who is Kai?
He smirks at his reaction, “That’s what I thought. It’s time for your lesson. Stripping here is fine.”
Jongin obliges without a second thought.
---
Kai is weird, Sehun concludes. Kai is weird and beyond anyone’s understanding. If he would, Sehun would probably give up on his dream of being able to comprehend the older male, but both men knew just how impossible this task would be, so Sehun never even bothers trying.
It happens on their way to school the next day.
“Sehunnie, if I asked, would you stop calling me Kai?”
The random question catches the younger male off guard, interrupting his innocent mantra of that sacred name as he turns to look at his elder in surprise, “Why? That’s your name, isn’t it?”
He isn’t sure why, but a light bulb inside the shadowed darkness of his mind has flickered on. There’s something inside him telling him that whatever is going on isn’t right. Whatever is about to happen isn’t supposed to happen and could potentially ruin everything as he knows it.
But he’s also highly aware that by holding out in the conversation for just a little while longer, he’ll be granted another opportunity to try and understand the mystery that is Kai. And even though he knows that it’s a lost cause, there’s just something about the existence of the tan figure beside him. And whatever it is, it’s something that Sehun finds himself latching onto daily with reasons that are unexplainable. Even to himself.
His companion has stayed quiet for an amount of time that makes Sehun feel strangely uncomfortable. In fact, Kai had decided to stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, the multitude of cracks below him suddenly becoming the sole focus of his attention. Even Sehun can tell that there’s some sort of conflict going on within his friend’s head, but something is screaming at him to not get himself involved in any of it. The way that he saw it, whenever he tried to involve himself in Kai’s problems, he would always get hurt. That’s just how it always was.
(See, you just admitted it yourself! Go on! Run while you still can!)
The pale boy is easily able to ignore the command once Kai parts his lips to speak, “I suppose so. But… let’s mix it up a little. Why don’t you call me Jongin instead?”
What was that?
Sehun blinks at the taller male in remote surprise, a feeling of dread spreading throughout his body once more. But he fights the sentiment and the numbness, and instead forces a hollow laugh, “What is this? Your rebellious phase?”
He expects the older male to chuckle along with him since it seems to be one of Kai’s better days when he’s not completely gloomy, but as he turns to take in the sad expression in his elder’s eyes and the grim line of his lips, something strange begins to stir inside the younger man. He fidgets uncomfortably under the heavy weight of his friend’s stare, before quietly asking, “Um. So what were you saying, Kai?”
In all honesty, Sehun isn’t sure if he had only imagined the way that his friend’s body seemed to twist at the mention of the name. It seems so realistic that he almost swears that it’s true, until he realizes that Kai has no reason for feeling pain. He didn’t get hurt, right? He was fine.
Right?
“Jongin. Call me Jongin.” It was no longer a request. It sounded more like a plea for help; the hushed cry of a doubtful man who can do nothing but pray for his suffering to end. And from the way his voice cracks as he finishes his words, it becomes clear that his only hope for salvation is the porcelain boy beside him. This porcelain boy that has grown ignorant to the cruel reality that the two are entrapped in: the cruel reality that Jongin knew existed, but Sehun remained ever oblivious to.
(A piece of him feels like crying, because at this point, the pieces are slowly coming back together in his head once more, but he can’t bear to leave Sehun behind. He’s nothing without Sehun. He refuses to be anything without Sehun.)
Warning bells are ringing in the younger male’s head once more. There is a distinct voice in his head telling him not to succumb to the flimsy will of his companion: doing so would only bring some sort of unspeakable terror upon them both. Their only hope for salvation is Sehun’s persistence to refuse his longtime friend’s request.
But Sehun has never been able to deny Kai of anything he wanted. And he wasn’t going to start now.
A pink tongue slowly sneaks out to lick chapped lips as the younger male cautiously tries the name out on his tongue, “Jong… Jongin.”
It is silent for a moment as the pair allow the syllables to resonate through the air, an echo in an empty space. Something so hushed and irrelevant to the world, but with a weight that almost makes Sehun stagger back in a bewildered sort of surprise. And beside him, the tan figure looks as though his world has been set alight with the hopeful promise of something unspoken. Something that is immense and daunting, but promising and awe-inspiring at the same time.
Not that Sehun really notices. Because his mind is beginning to race and his heart is beating madly in his chest and that strange, strange feeling of foreboding is becoming so strong that he believes that he might faint. There is something uncomfortably familiar about the ease in which that name rolls off his tongue: something so much more soothing than the way the name “Kai” does.
It’s magical. It’s an excerpt from sort of spell whose utterance is meant to glorify the insignificant life that the younger lives, something to brighten his days with peace and light.
A lump has formed in his throat-perhaps his body begging him once more to forget the suggested name-but it does nothing to stop Sehun from repeating the name to himself over and over again, “Jongin… Jongin… Jongin…”
And he’s found a new addiction, and Kai-no. Jongin looks so happy that he could cry, and everything is okay.
Sehun is delighted with this new idea-with this new addition to a routine that was getting too old-and he quickly promises to himself that from now on, there is no such thing as a Kai. There’s only Jongin, Jongin, Jongin.
And due to Jongin’s request (though incredibly peculiar), he also adds that if he calls him Kai ever again, then he must not be himself anymore. His friend’s rationalization is that this is something special for only the two of them, and no one is allowed to know about it ever. It’s a little ridiculous, but Jongin looks panicked and Sehun doesn’t see the harm in it. This is just a game. An incredibly fun one, at that.
But still, that feeling of unease is threatening to engulf his very soul; threatening to burn his body over a roasting fire; threatening to make him beg, beg for mercy-mercy not for just himself, but for Jongin as well. It’s like a weight is forcing itself down on the young man’s shoulders, laughing as it whispers about how it is the same weight that his friend has been shouldering for far too long, how it’s about time that Sehun started acting more mature and taking up his half of the burden as well-not that the boy hears.
And even if he did, it probably wouldn’t matter.
He really likes the name Jongin.
---
Under normal circumstances, Jongin would feel incredibly guilty when his examination with his teacher takes too long and he is forced to keep Sehun waiting. But today isn’t one of those normal circumstances.
Even he understands that.
It’s like he’s a new man now: Kai is no more. It’s only Jongin, Jongin, Jongin, and Sehun, Sehun, Sehun.
Everything would work out perfectly. He was going to make sure that everything worked out perfectly. There was still a cloud hanging over his thoughts, masking fragments of his memory, but he was sure that he had put a majority of the pieces together.
Sort of.
But that could wait for some other time. Because in that moment, in Jongin’s present, there was no longer a Kai and Sehun was beginning to wake up and it wouldn’t be long until he started to remember things more and more so that he could help Jongin put all the pieces together. And once that had been done, they could figure out a way to fix everything.
Because even though Jongin wasn’t exactly sure what it was that needed to be fixed yet, he could tell that there was something.
It was the only conclusion that he could come to that made sense.
He had bounced out of classroom and towards the front of the school building where he and Sehun met daily, excitedly expecting something more to happen once they encountered each other once more.
But when he skids to a stop, porcelain features are distorted into an annoyed frown as the younger man mutters, “What the hell took you so long, Kai?”
Jongin blinks, sudden panic bubbling up from within his chest. “K-Kai? I’m not Kai. Remember?” He tries to laugh it off, but Sehun just looks more annoyed than ever.
“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today. We’re already behind on our usual schedule. Let’s go.”
But Jongin finds that he can’t move. His entire body has gone numb.
He needs a smoke. Some pills. Anything to make up for the clenched hope that had disappeared swiftly from the palm of his hands.
---
To put it frankly, Jongin is tired of understanding.
Nothing is fair. He’s beginning to realize how cruel and looming this truth is. In all actuality, he faintly recalls times before when others complained about the realities that they were forced to endure. Times when he ridiculed them for complaining about something so petty, so obvious.
He now knows where they’re coming from.
“What are you still doing out here?” comes a hushed question, and Jongin feels a familiar warmth break through his thoughts to sit beside him on the front porch of their shared abode. “It’s getting late, don’t you think? Come on, let’s eat dinner.”
The milky white skin of the boy next to him makes Jongin’s heart race, and a small voice shyly points out how close in proximity the two are to one another. Their hands are so close to touching and all he needs to do is turn his wrist just a little more, and the two will intertwine. Just like they used to.
He longs to do it. He longs to make that small movement towards a lost happiness.
But he knows that if he does anything too rash, if he ever does anything too sudden, it could prove detrimental to them both.
Jongin understands this. Sehun is too forgetful to remember it.
“No, I’m okay. You can go ahead and eat without me.”
He doesn’t have to look at Sehun to feel the frown forming on his face. “No, that’s ridiculous. We always eat together. Come on.” There is a soft tug on the elder’s sleeve as he continues to whine, “I’m getting hungry and it’s getting dark and we’ve really been destroying our schedule today. What are you even doing out here?”
Jongin can only sigh, before halfheartedly pulling out a box of cigarettes along with his trusty lighter. “I’m taking a smoke.” He doesn’t miss the way that the younger’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “So go ahead and wait for me inside. I’ll be there soon.” It’s becoming all too easy for these lies to roll off his tongue, but Jongin finds that he can’t really be bothered. He’s probably not going to go inside for a long time. He needs to think. And he can’t do it when Sehun is sitting next to him as closely as they are now-so close to being able to touch him, but not having the heart to.
Jongin imagines that Sehun is like a forbidden fruit and that he is trapped in the Garden of Eden. The only problem is that his resolve is much stronger than Adam and Eve before him. He’s far too deep in love with the man beside him to risk his departure. No, no. He can’t live without Sehun. He refuses to live without Sehun.
But the young male is still intoxicatingly close to him. And when Jongin takes a long drag out of the lit cigarette, it feels like he’s inhaling Sehun’s very essence as well: oak and sweat and doubt and curiosity all hidden underneath the mask of a poisonous drug.
The idea of it all stuns Jongin enough to make him take the rolled paper away from his lips as he coughs and wheezes and all but begs for something else to enter his lungs. Too much Sehun is a bad thing. Too much Sehun will cloud his thoughts and make him forget. But goddammit, if Jongin has to forget everything that he’s already figured out again, he thinks that might even just give up on living in general.
Understanding is his burden. And he was not going to let anyone else bear it.
And while these thoughts continue to consume his mind, milky white reaches out to tentatively grab the cigarette out of tanned fingers. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself. Smoking is bad for your health.”
Jongin wants to cry because his health is not the most important thing at stake here.
But before he can voice this concern (or at least come up with some sarcastic response that would be bitter enough to make his younger friend leave him alone), he turns just in time to see Sehun bring the drug to his lips.
Something about the gesture sends Jongin’s heart racing.
Sehun takes a long drag of the cigarette, before removing it from his lips to exhale a cloud of smoke into Jongin’s face. “So if smoking kills you, then I want it to kill me, too.”
No. No, Sehun can’t die. Sehun was never meant to die. He was meant to live for forever because he was the god of Jongin’s world. Jongin would be nothing without Sehun. Sehun can’t die.
He forces himself to laugh shakily, “Don’t be ridiculous, Sehunnie. You’re not thinking straight. Besides, you don’t smoke, remember?” He moves to take the white stick back away from the innocence of his friend’s fingers, and is shocked when Sehun shakes his head and scoots away from the older boy.
“I can start. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
The words almost stop Jongin’s heart from beating. Sehun’s not doing this. Sehun’s not doing this because he wants to die like Jongin because that notion is ridiculous. Sehun can’t die. He won’t die. And even if he won’t actually kill himself just by taking a puff out of a single cigarette, the fact that Sehun just admitted that he wants to die is sending Jongin’s mind into a frenzy. “I mind. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sehun. Give it back.”
“No!”
Jongin is shaking now, and he’s not entirely sure that he knows the reason why. He scoots closer to Sehun as the latter continues his gradual advance away. “Sehun. Sehun, stop acting like a little kid. You’re so much more important than I am. You can’t let something petty like this destroy you.”
(You can’t start loving me like this all of a sudden. You can’t will yourself to die alongside me when you’re not supposed to die. You can’t suddenly remember all the times when the two of us meant the world to each other. You can’t play with my heart like this-when you don’t even know that you’re doing it. Stop it, Sehun. That’s not fair.)
Surprisingly enough, tears begin to leak out of the corner of the young man’s eyes, “I don’t care anymore. I just want to understand you. I want to do whatever it takes to understand you because there’s something that I’m not getting, and I know that you know it and I don’t. And I don’t understand why, Jongin.”
Jongin isn’t sure if it’s the statement itself that throws him offguard, or the simple fact that Sehun has managed to recall his name once more.
And before he knows exactly what’s happening, Sehun has already taken another drag of the cigarette, and it sends Jongin’s heart into an angry flutter, and without fully realizing what he’s doing, he’s pushed Sehun onto his back, knocked the cigarette out of his hands, and planted his lips firmly onto the other’s-forcing the younger’s mouth open so that he can take the smoke out of his system.
But those few seconds of contact were all that he needed.
Memories flash through the back of his mind almost instantly: their kidnapping, the machines, the scientists, the torture.
Jongin pulls away quickly-coughing and sweating and shaking and fearful of this complete understanding.
But when his eyes meet Sehun’s, it’s clear that the younger boy has gained no recollection of their reality. Instead, he raises his fingers to slowly touch his lips, eyes wide as ever as he stares at Jongin.
And Jongin is surprised when the younger male jumps up and forces him down, hungrily attacking his lips with his own.
For a moment, it’s as though his mind has run completely blank: all that matters is Sehun’s lips on his, the way their mouths move against one another’s in pure synchronization, the way that his heart all but leaps out of his chest in a childish sort of glee because this is everything that Jongin has wanted in such a long time all rolled into one fleeting moment, and it’s too good to be real.
Too good to be real.
The longer that their tongues roll against one another’s, the longer Sehun intertwines his fingers in the tangled locks atop Jongin’s head, the longer the latter moans and pants and gasps for air… the more his mind begins to whiten. The colors are beginning to fade with every passionate movement and this realization sends warning bells ringing in the depths of Jongin’s consciousness.
It takes all of his willpower for him to push the younger man off his body, the two panting heavily as they truly take in the sight of one another: Jongin with a look of urgency, and Sehun with a pained expression of rejection.
In fact, the younger looks as though he’s on the brink of tears as he quietly whispers, “J-Jongin?”
But the older male can only shake his head as he clumsily brings himself to his feet.
He had to fix this. He had to fix it all while he still remembered it, or else it would be too late. If he didn’t do anything soon, they would take the opportunity to wipe both him and Sehun clean.
Jongin didn’t want to have to suffer through that purgatory any longer.
“W-Where are you going?” He can hear the stumbling steps of disarray behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his own longer legs, but perhaps the combination of dizzying confusion and blissful agony were taking their toll on the younger male.
Jongin refuses to turn back around to attempt to fully take in the sight of Sehun franticly trying to catch up with him, and he supposes that he doesn’t have to. Before he knows it, a firm grip has seized his wrist, causing him to spin back around. Wide, fearful eyes lock onto his own as the slightly shorter male whispers, “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” Tears have already commenced streaming down the younger man’s face as he slowly falls to his knees, “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Jongin. I’m scared. I’m so scared. Don’t leave me.”
And Jongin feels his heart lurch forward painfully, and part of him longs to stay and comfort his lover; to promise him that everything would be alright because he would never leave him-not really anyway.
But there is this feeling of urgency coursing through his veins, and though it pains him to do so, he quickly pulls his wrist away.
Sehun’s response to the action is something that he’ll never forget: red eyes, tearstains marring perfect complexion, brows crumpled together in agony, arm still outstretched in hope, and lips slightly parted to form a silent scream of the word, “No.”
Jongin feels himself shaking as he forces himself to continue onwards. “I’ll be back soon, Sehunnie. Don’t worry about me. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
It has become much too easy for Jongin to roll these lies off his tongue.
(He should’ve stayed. He should have ignored everything that logic was telling him and embraced the universe’s final offer of blissful ignorance. But he doesn’t, because its human nature to take opportunities for granted.)
--
When Jongin arrives back at what he believes to be his school, he angrily throws open the doors to an all too familiar “classroom,” and begins screaming in a blind rage as soon as he realizes that there’s not a single soul in the room.
“I know everything now!” he screams, “Goddammit, let me out of this nightmare! I remember everything! Let me out!”
But his cry seems to fall on deaf ears.
So he continues to roar and cry and shriek until his throat has made itself raw. And at this point, he collapses onto the cold tile beneath him, his insides burning with something that hurts so much more than the burn of a cigarette against his skin. Something inside him is contorting itself painfully within his body, and Jongin swears that if this pain continues, then his body will go numb in a matter of seconds.
Suddenly the door opens, and his teacher races into the room with wide eyes, “Kai, what on earth are you doing here at this hour-“
His eyes dart towards him almost immediately, blazing with an unforgivable fury as he points an accusing finger at him, “Let me out! Let me and Sehun out!”
The man is clearly bewildered by the youngster’s words and actions as he carefully responds with a faint, “Let you out of what? You still have class tomorrow. You need to get home and catch up on some rest. It’s clear that you need it.”
“Stop lying to me!” he cries, pulling at his hair in frustration and all but ripping it out. “The gig is up! I remember it all, and you’ve had enough fun. Let us both out and I promise not to press charges!”
He expected at least some sort of affirmation from the man beside him, but he continues to ramble on and on about how Jongin must be getting overly stressed from all the schoolwork and how it just means that he really needs to go home and sleep before the coming school day. And his words continue to increase the panic within the young boy because he knows he has to be right. He knows that his memories have truly come back and that it’s his job to fix everything for him and Sehun because Sehun couldn’t. It was up to him, and he had no intentions of letting Sehun down.
He just needed to get the man before him to know that he was telling the truth. That he wasn’t insane and was actually one of the most sane of all of their test subjects.
He had to force them to allow him to wake up out of this augmented reality.
Because that’s what it had to be: an alternative universe that was created to serve as a torturous hell for him and Sehun alone.
With only these thoughts to guide him, Jongin pulls the chipped lighter out of his pocket and brings the bright orange flame to his skin.
He would have thought that at least some part of him would feel a sort of pain aching throughout his body, but no such thing occurs. In fact, the sensation reminds him of smoking cigarettes-except instead of a warm feeling expanding throughout your chest, setting yourself on fire seems to expand that warm feeling throughout your entire being.
Perhaps if this was another time and another place, Jongin would have laughed at his unfortunate situation and nudged Sehun into laughing along with him.
But no such thing happens.
The flames are suddenly doused.
Jongin’s eyes open for the first time in a long time.
--
The room is gray. Dark. The walls are soaked in dread and blood and screams and tears and under any other circumstances, Jongin would probably be begging to be in any other place.
But in all actuality, the young man thinks that he might actually start crying tears of joyous bliss at any given moment. The fact that he was just a thin piece of fabric away from being considered naked meant nothing. It didn’t matter that the feeling in his hands and feet were nonexistent due to the tight constraints around his wrists and ankles. It definitely didn’t matter that he could very clearly make out the jagged lines of incisions made into his skin, all in the hope to perfect an experiment that was on the road to going horribly, horribly wrong.
The only thing that matters is that he’s awake. He’s free.
And now that he’s in the real world, he can save Sehun. Because the only thing that has ever really mattered to Jongin is Sehun.
The name alone is enough to sting the back of Jongin’s eyes as he envisions the younger male as he had last seen him: desperate, and hopeless, and just needing him. The name alone is enough to remind Jongin that when Sehun needed him most, he didn’t help him.
This revelation sends his heart into a frenzy because he realizes that he denied Sehun. Sehun, who he had promised the entire world to.
“Please,” he whispers, completely going against what he had previously determined as his most logical course of action, “Please just let me see him.” The two figures dressed in lab coats stained with what he can only assume to be the blood of the innocent look at one another in silent contemplation. And when Jongin realizes that they are about to deny him this single request, he desperately adds, “I’ll do anything. Please. Please, I need to make sure that he’s okay.” And even though he had wanted to give off the impression of a strong, capable young man, the entire façade crumbles as sobs begin to rack his body. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, before continuing their path down to his bare chest, and eventually to the dark entity of the ground.
He’s not sure if it’s pitiful demeanor or his promise to do whatever they ask of him that does the trick, but the two men part from one another to reveal a pale being clad in only loose shorts, perspiration glistening on the pale skin of his chest. The artificial light dangling above his head makes the brown of his hair shine despite the dirt that is evidently tangled within his locks. His ribs protrude out of his narrow frame and angry red is strewn all across his body.
“S-Sehunnie?” Jongin croaks, the cry sounding as pathetic as ever as it escapes his raw throat.
Is he alive? Is he breathing? No. Sehun can’t die. Sehun won’t die. Jongin refuses to let such a reality come into passing.
He attempts to raise his arm to reach out for him, but his binding is too tight. He feels his insides contort painfully and suddenly there are splotches of white trying to consume his vision, and Jongin screams because he’s come so far and he refuses to let the world of white take him away from his reality once more. He can’t fail Sehun. He won’t fail Sehun.
And suddenly the two scientists step towards one another once more, blocking the image of his dying lover once more, and Jongin screams.
“It is time to resume the experiment, Kai.”
The name sends Jongin reeling and the pain in his chest is too intense to be real and he doesn’t know if it’s possible, but he imagines that his tears only fall faster. “N-No. Please. Please don’t send me back there. Don’t send us back there. It hurts too much. Please, please…”
“We can’t trust you anywhere else. The last time we tried to study you in our laboratories, you almost killed both yourself and Sehun. We can’t have you trying something insane like that again.”
For a split second, Jongin finds himself scrambling to find truth in these words, but he quickly realizes that even if they were telling the truth, it would mean nothing. Because with every moment that Jongin wastes, Sehun continues to die, and there is only so much time left and Sehun can’t die. So he speaks like the desperate man he is, shrieking the first things that come to his frail mind, “I won’t! I promise that I won’t! Please, please just let him go. Let Sehun go. Give him back his memories so that he can remember who he is and so that he can remember who I am and so that he can remember us. That’s all. I’ll do anything you want after that. I just… Sehun. He’s all that matters. Please, please…”
And he murmurs that single syllable over and over again because he feels like it’s the only word that his lips can shape without cracking and becoming immobile. The word gives him hope like the name Sehun does, and hope is all he has left at this point.
“Such sensitivity only skews our perceptions of reality. You have potential. Stop wasting it. Sehun doesn’t matter. Sehun shouldn’t matter.”
These hateful words shatter whatever hope Jongin has left.
(What does hope even mean, anyway? No such thing exists. It’s just another children’s fantasy. Jongin should’ve grown up a long time ago.)
And as though to prove his point, one scientist signals the other, and suddenly volts of electricity are racing through the other side of the room and they part from one another to reveal the spazzing body of a young man.
The cry that rips through Jongin’s throat is inhumane and unrealistic. The sound of an animal.
When Jongin can inhale smoke from his bound position, the electricity stops and brown eyes flutter open through the pain, “J-Jong…”
Sehun. Sehun is alive.
This realization makes Jongin freeze. And for the first time in a long time, he feels the corner of his lips dragging themselves upwards in an attempt at a grateful smile.
But suddenly the electricity is flickered back on and Sehun is screaming for Jongin to save him and Jongin begins to scream as well because they’re really killing him now. He lashes at the chains holding him down and feels the metal dig into his skin more and more.
But it doesn’t matter. Because nothing matters but saving Sehun. Without Sehun, Jongin is nothing.
When the volts finally stop, the name Jongin is gone from Sehun’s lips, “K-Kai… Kai, Kai, Kai….”
And Jongin feels his heart break even more. “N-No! No, Sehun! It’s me! Jongin! Not Kai, Jongin!”
The younger boy is panting heavily, desperately trying to catch his breath. His body is still trembling as he timidly looks up at the man before him through the sweaty bangs plastered onto his forehead. There’s a pained confusion in his eyes as he takes in the scene before him, before he quietly whispers, “Jongin…? I don’t know a Jongin…”
The older man across from him feels his existence shatter into a million pieces.
But Sehun is still looking around the room franticly, eyes sharpening as he begins to become more and more aware of his surroundings. “W-Where’s Kai? I want Kai,” he whimpers, lower lip trembling as sobs begin to rack his body.
Jongin wishes for himself to be electrocuted. For some sort of flame to consume his being in order to force his heart to stop beating so that all the pain will go away. It hurts. Everything hurts and he wants it to go away, but the only way to make everything stop is for Sehun to be alright and he’s not. He’s alive and he’s breathing, but they’ve broken him. They’ve broken him because Jongin wasn’t able to protect him even though it was his duty to do so. Jongin was the only one who could have saved him, and he didn’t.
Jongin thinks that true understanding leads to nothing but suffering.
And it’s all his fault.
______________________________________________________________________________
a/n: i hope this isn't too crappy. the idea was a lot better in my head.
Pairing: sekai
Genre: romance; slight angst
Rating: PG-13
Length: one-shot; 7,350 words
Summary: Sometimes Sehun looks at Jongin and wonders what he did to be blessed with someone as perfect and godlike to keep him company. Other times he looks at Jongin and feels this unfathomable sense of loathing within the recesses of his heart that he just can’t explain.
Sehun doesn’t understand Jongin. He never has, and he doesn’t think that he ever will.
But when he really, really thinks about it, he supposes that maybe he was just never meant to.
“Kai,” he would breathe softly as they walked side-by-side past the park; the slightly older male fidgeting with the dying light of a lit cigarette and his younger companion looking at him with that blank expression of his that said everything but nothing at the same time. “Kai. Kai. Kai.” He wasn’t particularly sure what exactly it was about the nature of the syllable-the only name that he truly knew him by-but there was something about it that gave him a sort of solace. So every day after another treacherous experience at school, Sehun would whisper the name repeatedly to himself, “Kai. Kai. Kai.”
Sometimes Jongin would respond. But most of the time, he just really couldn’t be bothered.
On the rare day that he would acknowledge the younger male’s existence, he would simply roll his eyes and mutter, “What is it now?”
And perhaps it was just because the occurrence was so rare, but Sehun always found that he could never find a response to the halfhearted question.
(Does there have to be a reason why? I just like the sound of your name, he would think. But something told him that if he confessed to something like that, the older male wouldn’t respond positively to it. And Sehun didn’t want to think about that possibility.)
“Nothing,” he would murmur. And Jongin would look at him skeptically, before kicking at the dirt below his worn high-tops, mumbling something about how Sehun was forgetful and needed to hurry up and remember already because he was beginning to get tired of their routine.
Not that Sehun would ever notice. Because by the time Jongin started mumbling to himself again, Sehun had recommenced repeating that syllable once more, “Kai. Kai. Kai.”
And Jongin would sigh quietly, but Sehun would never take note of that soft exhale. Because his mind was swimming with images of tanned skin intertwined with pale white; of soft caresses in the darkness to remind him that he was never truly alone; of whispers of encouragement in the face of danger, swearing that his Sehunnie can do whatever it is that he needs to because he’s invincible. And with each whisper of that single syllable, the images would sharpen, and Sehun could feel his senses heighten because it was just so real. The Kai in his mind was so real and was standing next to him and just the idea of it sent his heart soaring.
But Jongin already knew this. And it pained him to know it.
Yet he would never utter a word. He couldn’t bear to crush the mirage that the youngster had created.
So he continues to ignore him, and instead moves to push the remnants of a cigarette flush against his skin, not even wincing when the ashes singe his flesh.
He’s okay with the pain.
---
Sehun doesn’t understand Jongin. He never has, and he doesn’t think that he ever will.
And this fact pisses him off to no end because Kai is arrogant and a jackass and doesn’t feel any guilt when he treats the younger male like absolute shit.
“Kai,” he would mumble angrily as they walked towards the large estate which they shared; the slightly older male arrogantly breathing a puff of venomous smoke into Sehun’s face and the young man clenching his fists together as tight as possible in a wry attempt to keep his anger in check. “Kai. Kai. Kai.” He dipped each syllable in poison, before allowing it to cut through the air in a jagged pattern. His mind longed to devise another word-anything but that horrid name, any utterance that would spare his diaphragm from filling up with acid; spare his throat from running dry; spare his chest from exploding with an uncanny and unexplainable rage-but there was some sort of addicting nature to those vile three letters.
And unfortunately, it was an addiction that Sehun found he could not quit.
“Kai. Kai. Kai.”
Kai groaned, caramel fingers reaching up to remove the cancer stick from his lips, “What is it now?”
The younger male always supposed that it was the sharp tone of his companion’s voice that always snapped him out of his mantra. His lips would still be parted as though he had the intention to speak, but nothing would escape-save for a soft sound that was emitted from the base of his throat; but Sehun could never identify what it was or what it meant, so he refused to believe that it was real.
(It was funny how the one thing that could stop his continuous script was the subject of said script himself, he would think. And there was just some strange thing about this concept that would send a chill down Sehun’s spine and his toes curling within his worn Converse. Not that he would say anything about it, of course.)
“Nothing,” he would manage through grit teeth, the lie burning his tongue and nearly making him wince.
Kai would roll his eyes and nudge the younger male next to him meaningfully-a warning.
Jongin would frown-his brows knitting together in a worry meant for someone with more years, more experience, more wisdom.
A worry that shouldn’t have been meant for him.
The cigarette in his fingers is being consumed by nature’s air itself rather than his lungs, but he’s beginning to find that maybe he doesn’t really care. There is some feeling of foreboding eating at the pit of his stomach, but Jongin can’t identify what it is or what it means, so he refuses to acknowledge it.
He knows that he should say something. Anything actually.
But by the time his mind has strung enough words together to make a coherent phrase, Sehun has recommenced his fuming whispers, “Kai. Kai. Kai.”
And every day, this would make a piece of Jongin’s heart shatter. Because he knew that inside the mind of his younger friend there were only images of light brown clashing with tainted white; screaming matches in the darkness continuing until the sun’s rays would frighten away the possessive demons with their streams of light; jabs and insults at every possible moment, mocking tones and crushing words that would be enough to destroy any human.
Each syllable that escaped Sehun’s lips felt like another stab into his very soul-a writhing knife dipped in cyanide, guiltlessly draining the ever decreasing hopes that Jongin managed to somehow hold onto; making the darkness of the setting sky all the more real and intimidating and just horrifying.
Kai laughs.
Somehow Jongin is able to manipulate his shaky fingers enough to crush the remnants of his cigarette against his bare skin.
He welcomes the pain.
And the shadow over Jongin’s lanky frame seems larger than ever as they continued their walk home.
---
In all reality, sometimes Jongin feels like he just doesn’t understand himself.
It’s like there are these conflicting emotions in his head, these contrasting ideas threatening to make him burst from the inside. And no matter how many pills he takes or how many cigarettes he inhales, his splitting headache remains ever present. It’s not the physical sort of pain that one would expect from a headache though. No, Jongin’s headaches are the sort of headaches that you feel when you’re sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and there’s something inside your mind poking out at your thoughts, begging to be released… But it just doesn’t know how. It’s this itching feeling that something’s not right, that everything has a greater meaning… But not being able to understand what it is. His head is split with confusion, and it makes him fidget uncomfortably next to Sehun, who is mindlessly whispering that name over and over again.
It’s the presence of the younger boy that soothes him slightly, but when the face beside his turns to look at him, there are only glossy eyes and the whisper of, “Kai, is everything alright?”
And Jongin is shaking because he knows that everything is not alright. He knows that there’s something inside him screaming at him and telling him that it’s not alright, but he doesn’t know what that something is and it scares him.
He wants to ignore it. He’s going to ignore it.
(If you listen, they’ll only hurt you, a small voice whispers in his head, and Jongin can almost swear that the voice that says this is one that he has heard before, but cannot exactly recall. It only adds to his headache.)
He and Sehun have been waiting in their classroom for their individual teachers to arrive onto the scene to cart them away from one another for what feels like ages now. The empty waiting room is haunting in a way that he knows shouldn’t be haunting. He should feel comfortable. He comes here every day, so why is he suddenly beginning to feel so anxious? It wasn’t right. It didn’t make sense.
For some reason, Jongin feels his fingers twitching and concludes that he needs to take a puff out of his cigarette.
He murmurs his temporary departure to the pale figure behind him out of habit, already knowing that the younger male probably wouldn’t notice his absence at all. With a flick of his lighter and a long inhalation, Jongin’s lungs fill with smoke, putting him at ease.
“Kai?” The voice shocks him out of his short reverie, causing him to burn himself with the cigarette yet again as he turns to face a short man in a white lab coat. “It’s time for classes to begin. Sehun is already with his instructor.”
The cancer stick has already burned itself out on the hard concrete of the school’s courtyard, and perhaps if he didn’t have such an ego to maintain, Jongin would have allowed himself a short whimper. Part of him is screaming for that familiar warmth inside his chest; that freedom from agonizing thought; the pure bliss that the drug offers him, so much so that he almost scrambles to the ground to pick it up once more and attempt to relight it. However, the other part is screaming at him about how his class is about to start and that he shouldn’t miss it lest they punish both him and Sehun.
It seems as though his teacher realizes that there was some internal conflict going on within the young boy regarding the situation. He tuts annoyingly, before muttering, “You were making a lot of progress yesterday, Jongin.” The name makes the young man go frigid, all thoughts about drugs and punishment instantly fleeing his mind as he whips his head up to look at him.
Jongin. Yes. Yes, that sounds correct. Your name is Jongin. Not Kai. Where did Kai from? Who is Kai?
He smirks at his reaction, “That’s what I thought. It’s time for your lesson. Stripping here is fine.”
Jongin obliges without a second thought.
---
Kai is weird, Sehun concludes. Kai is weird and beyond anyone’s understanding. If he would, Sehun would probably give up on his dream of being able to comprehend the older male, but both men knew just how impossible this task would be, so Sehun never even bothers trying.
It happens on their way to school the next day.
“Sehunnie, if I asked, would you stop calling me Kai?”
The random question catches the younger male off guard, interrupting his innocent mantra of that sacred name as he turns to look at his elder in surprise, “Why? That’s your name, isn’t it?”
He isn’t sure why, but a light bulb inside the shadowed darkness of his mind has flickered on. There’s something inside him telling him that whatever is going on isn’t right. Whatever is about to happen isn’t supposed to happen and could potentially ruin everything as he knows it.
But he’s also highly aware that by holding out in the conversation for just a little while longer, he’ll be granted another opportunity to try and understand the mystery that is Kai. And even though he knows that it’s a lost cause, there’s just something about the existence of the tan figure beside him. And whatever it is, it’s something that Sehun finds himself latching onto daily with reasons that are unexplainable. Even to himself.
His companion has stayed quiet for an amount of time that makes Sehun feel strangely uncomfortable. In fact, Kai had decided to stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, the multitude of cracks below him suddenly becoming the sole focus of his attention. Even Sehun can tell that there’s some sort of conflict going on within his friend’s head, but something is screaming at him to not get himself involved in any of it. The way that he saw it, whenever he tried to involve himself in Kai’s problems, he would always get hurt. That’s just how it always was.
(See, you just admitted it yourself! Go on! Run while you still can!)
The pale boy is easily able to ignore the command once Kai parts his lips to speak, “I suppose so. But… let’s mix it up a little. Why don’t you call me Jongin instead?”
What was that?
Sehun blinks at the taller male in remote surprise, a feeling of dread spreading throughout his body once more. But he fights the sentiment and the numbness, and instead forces a hollow laugh, “What is this? Your rebellious phase?”
He expects the older male to chuckle along with him since it seems to be one of Kai’s better days when he’s not completely gloomy, but as he turns to take in the sad expression in his elder’s eyes and the grim line of his lips, something strange begins to stir inside the younger man. He fidgets uncomfortably under the heavy weight of his friend’s stare, before quietly asking, “Um. So what were you saying, Kai?”
In all honesty, Sehun isn’t sure if he had only imagined the way that his friend’s body seemed to twist at the mention of the name. It seems so realistic that he almost swears that it’s true, until he realizes that Kai has no reason for feeling pain. He didn’t get hurt, right? He was fine.
Right?
“Jongin. Call me Jongin.” It was no longer a request. It sounded more like a plea for help; the hushed cry of a doubtful man who can do nothing but pray for his suffering to end. And from the way his voice cracks as he finishes his words, it becomes clear that his only hope for salvation is the porcelain boy beside him. This porcelain boy that has grown ignorant to the cruel reality that the two are entrapped in: the cruel reality that Jongin knew existed, but Sehun remained ever oblivious to.
(A piece of him feels like crying, because at this point, the pieces are slowly coming back together in his head once more, but he can’t bear to leave Sehun behind. He’s nothing without Sehun. He refuses to be anything without Sehun.)
Warning bells are ringing in the younger male’s head once more. There is a distinct voice in his head telling him not to succumb to the flimsy will of his companion: doing so would only bring some sort of unspeakable terror upon them both. Their only hope for salvation is Sehun’s persistence to refuse his longtime friend’s request.
But Sehun has never been able to deny Kai of anything he wanted. And he wasn’t going to start now.
A pink tongue slowly sneaks out to lick chapped lips as the younger male cautiously tries the name out on his tongue, “Jong… Jongin.”
It is silent for a moment as the pair allow the syllables to resonate through the air, an echo in an empty space. Something so hushed and irrelevant to the world, but with a weight that almost makes Sehun stagger back in a bewildered sort of surprise. And beside him, the tan figure looks as though his world has been set alight with the hopeful promise of something unspoken. Something that is immense and daunting, but promising and awe-inspiring at the same time.
Not that Sehun really notices. Because his mind is beginning to race and his heart is beating madly in his chest and that strange, strange feeling of foreboding is becoming so strong that he believes that he might faint. There is something uncomfortably familiar about the ease in which that name rolls off his tongue: something so much more soothing than the way the name “Kai” does.
It’s magical. It’s an excerpt from sort of spell whose utterance is meant to glorify the insignificant life that the younger lives, something to brighten his days with peace and light.
A lump has formed in his throat-perhaps his body begging him once more to forget the suggested name-but it does nothing to stop Sehun from repeating the name to himself over and over again, “Jongin… Jongin… Jongin…”
And he’s found a new addiction, and Kai-no. Jongin looks so happy that he could cry, and everything is okay.
Sehun is delighted with this new idea-with this new addition to a routine that was getting too old-and he quickly promises to himself that from now on, there is no such thing as a Kai. There’s only Jongin, Jongin, Jongin.
And due to Jongin’s request (though incredibly peculiar), he also adds that if he calls him Kai ever again, then he must not be himself anymore. His friend’s rationalization is that this is something special for only the two of them, and no one is allowed to know about it ever. It’s a little ridiculous, but Jongin looks panicked and Sehun doesn’t see the harm in it. This is just a game. An incredibly fun one, at that.
But still, that feeling of unease is threatening to engulf his very soul; threatening to burn his body over a roasting fire; threatening to make him beg, beg for mercy-mercy not for just himself, but for Jongin as well. It’s like a weight is forcing itself down on the young man’s shoulders, laughing as it whispers about how it is the same weight that his friend has been shouldering for far too long, how it’s about time that Sehun started acting more mature and taking up his half of the burden as well-not that the boy hears.
And even if he did, it probably wouldn’t matter.
He really likes the name Jongin.
---
Under normal circumstances, Jongin would feel incredibly guilty when his examination with his teacher takes too long and he is forced to keep Sehun waiting. But today isn’t one of those normal circumstances.
Even he understands that.
It’s like he’s a new man now: Kai is no more. It’s only Jongin, Jongin, Jongin, and Sehun, Sehun, Sehun.
Everything would work out perfectly. He was going to make sure that everything worked out perfectly. There was still a cloud hanging over his thoughts, masking fragments of his memory, but he was sure that he had put a majority of the pieces together.
Sort of.
But that could wait for some other time. Because in that moment, in Jongin’s present, there was no longer a Kai and Sehun was beginning to wake up and it wouldn’t be long until he started to remember things more and more so that he could help Jongin put all the pieces together. And once that had been done, they could figure out a way to fix everything.
Because even though Jongin wasn’t exactly sure what it was that needed to be fixed yet, he could tell that there was something.
It was the only conclusion that he could come to that made sense.
He had bounced out of classroom and towards the front of the school building where he and Sehun met daily, excitedly expecting something more to happen once they encountered each other once more.
But when he skids to a stop, porcelain features are distorted into an annoyed frown as the younger man mutters, “What the hell took you so long, Kai?”
Jongin blinks, sudden panic bubbling up from within his chest. “K-Kai? I’m not Kai. Remember?” He tries to laugh it off, but Sehun just looks more annoyed than ever.
“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today. We’re already behind on our usual schedule. Let’s go.”
But Jongin finds that he can’t move. His entire body has gone numb.
He needs a smoke. Some pills. Anything to make up for the clenched hope that had disappeared swiftly from the palm of his hands.
---
To put it frankly, Jongin is tired of understanding.
Nothing is fair. He’s beginning to realize how cruel and looming this truth is. In all actuality, he faintly recalls times before when others complained about the realities that they were forced to endure. Times when he ridiculed them for complaining about something so petty, so obvious.
He now knows where they’re coming from.
“What are you still doing out here?” comes a hushed question, and Jongin feels a familiar warmth break through his thoughts to sit beside him on the front porch of their shared abode. “It’s getting late, don’t you think? Come on, let’s eat dinner.”
The milky white skin of the boy next to him makes Jongin’s heart race, and a small voice shyly points out how close in proximity the two are to one another. Their hands are so close to touching and all he needs to do is turn his wrist just a little more, and the two will intertwine. Just like they used to.
He longs to do it. He longs to make that small movement towards a lost happiness.
But he knows that if he does anything too rash, if he ever does anything too sudden, it could prove detrimental to them both.
Jongin understands this. Sehun is too forgetful to remember it.
“No, I’m okay. You can go ahead and eat without me.”
He doesn’t have to look at Sehun to feel the frown forming on his face. “No, that’s ridiculous. We always eat together. Come on.” There is a soft tug on the elder’s sleeve as he continues to whine, “I’m getting hungry and it’s getting dark and we’ve really been destroying our schedule today. What are you even doing out here?”
Jongin can only sigh, before halfheartedly pulling out a box of cigarettes along with his trusty lighter. “I’m taking a smoke.” He doesn’t miss the way that the younger’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “So go ahead and wait for me inside. I’ll be there soon.” It’s becoming all too easy for these lies to roll off his tongue, but Jongin finds that he can’t really be bothered. He’s probably not going to go inside for a long time. He needs to think. And he can’t do it when Sehun is sitting next to him as closely as they are now-so close to being able to touch him, but not having the heart to.
Jongin imagines that Sehun is like a forbidden fruit and that he is trapped in the Garden of Eden. The only problem is that his resolve is much stronger than Adam and Eve before him. He’s far too deep in love with the man beside him to risk his departure. No, no. He can’t live without Sehun. He refuses to live without Sehun.
But the young male is still intoxicatingly close to him. And when Jongin takes a long drag out of the lit cigarette, it feels like he’s inhaling Sehun’s very essence as well: oak and sweat and doubt and curiosity all hidden underneath the mask of a poisonous drug.
The idea of it all stuns Jongin enough to make him take the rolled paper away from his lips as he coughs and wheezes and all but begs for something else to enter his lungs. Too much Sehun is a bad thing. Too much Sehun will cloud his thoughts and make him forget. But goddammit, if Jongin has to forget everything that he’s already figured out again, he thinks that might even just give up on living in general.
Understanding is his burden. And he was not going to let anyone else bear it.
And while these thoughts continue to consume his mind, milky white reaches out to tentatively grab the cigarette out of tanned fingers. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself. Smoking is bad for your health.”
Jongin wants to cry because his health is not the most important thing at stake here.
But before he can voice this concern (or at least come up with some sarcastic response that would be bitter enough to make his younger friend leave him alone), he turns just in time to see Sehun bring the drug to his lips.
Something about the gesture sends Jongin’s heart racing.
Sehun takes a long drag of the cigarette, before removing it from his lips to exhale a cloud of smoke into Jongin’s face. “So if smoking kills you, then I want it to kill me, too.”
No. No, Sehun can’t die. Sehun was never meant to die. He was meant to live for forever because he was the god of Jongin’s world. Jongin would be nothing without Sehun. Sehun can’t die.
He forces himself to laugh shakily, “Don’t be ridiculous, Sehunnie. You’re not thinking straight. Besides, you don’t smoke, remember?” He moves to take the white stick back away from the innocence of his friend’s fingers, and is shocked when Sehun shakes his head and scoots away from the older boy.
“I can start. It’s okay. I don’t mind.”
The words almost stop Jongin’s heart from beating. Sehun’s not doing this. Sehun’s not doing this because he wants to die like Jongin because that notion is ridiculous. Sehun can’t die. He won’t die. And even if he won’t actually kill himself just by taking a puff out of a single cigarette, the fact that Sehun just admitted that he wants to die is sending Jongin’s mind into a frenzy. “I mind. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sehun. Give it back.”
“No!”
Jongin is shaking now, and he’s not entirely sure that he knows the reason why. He scoots closer to Sehun as the latter continues his gradual advance away. “Sehun. Sehun, stop acting like a little kid. You’re so much more important than I am. You can’t let something petty like this destroy you.”
(You can’t start loving me like this all of a sudden. You can’t will yourself to die alongside me when you’re not supposed to die. You can’t suddenly remember all the times when the two of us meant the world to each other. You can’t play with my heart like this-when you don’t even know that you’re doing it. Stop it, Sehun. That’s not fair.)
Surprisingly enough, tears begin to leak out of the corner of the young man’s eyes, “I don’t care anymore. I just want to understand you. I want to do whatever it takes to understand you because there’s something that I’m not getting, and I know that you know it and I don’t. And I don’t understand why, Jongin.”
Jongin isn’t sure if it’s the statement itself that throws him offguard, or the simple fact that Sehun has managed to recall his name once more.
And before he knows exactly what’s happening, Sehun has already taken another drag of the cigarette, and it sends Jongin’s heart into an angry flutter, and without fully realizing what he’s doing, he’s pushed Sehun onto his back, knocked the cigarette out of his hands, and planted his lips firmly onto the other’s-forcing the younger’s mouth open so that he can take the smoke out of his system.
But those few seconds of contact were all that he needed.
Memories flash through the back of his mind almost instantly: their kidnapping, the machines, the scientists, the torture.
Jongin pulls away quickly-coughing and sweating and shaking and fearful of this complete understanding.
But when his eyes meet Sehun’s, it’s clear that the younger boy has gained no recollection of their reality. Instead, he raises his fingers to slowly touch his lips, eyes wide as ever as he stares at Jongin.
And Jongin is surprised when the younger male jumps up and forces him down, hungrily attacking his lips with his own.
For a moment, it’s as though his mind has run completely blank: all that matters is Sehun’s lips on his, the way their mouths move against one another’s in pure synchronization, the way that his heart all but leaps out of his chest in a childish sort of glee because this is everything that Jongin has wanted in such a long time all rolled into one fleeting moment, and it’s too good to be real.
Too good to be real.
The longer that their tongues roll against one another’s, the longer Sehun intertwines his fingers in the tangled locks atop Jongin’s head, the longer the latter moans and pants and gasps for air… the more his mind begins to whiten. The colors are beginning to fade with every passionate movement and this realization sends warning bells ringing in the depths of Jongin’s consciousness.
It takes all of his willpower for him to push the younger man off his body, the two panting heavily as they truly take in the sight of one another: Jongin with a look of urgency, and Sehun with a pained expression of rejection.
In fact, the younger looks as though he’s on the brink of tears as he quietly whispers, “J-Jongin?”
But the older male can only shake his head as he clumsily brings himself to his feet.
He had to fix this. He had to fix it all while he still remembered it, or else it would be too late. If he didn’t do anything soon, they would take the opportunity to wipe both him and Sehun clean.
Jongin didn’t want to have to suffer through that purgatory any longer.
“W-Where are you going?” He can hear the stumbling steps of disarray behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his own longer legs, but perhaps the combination of dizzying confusion and blissful agony were taking their toll on the younger male.
Jongin refuses to turn back around to attempt to fully take in the sight of Sehun franticly trying to catch up with him, and he supposes that he doesn’t have to. Before he knows it, a firm grip has seized his wrist, causing him to spin back around. Wide, fearful eyes lock onto his own as the slightly shorter male whispers, “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” Tears have already commenced streaming down the younger man’s face as he slowly falls to his knees, “I don’t want to be alone anymore, Jongin. I’m scared. I’m so scared. Don’t leave me.”
And Jongin feels his heart lurch forward painfully, and part of him longs to stay and comfort his lover; to promise him that everything would be alright because he would never leave him-not really anyway.
But there is this feeling of urgency coursing through his veins, and though it pains him to do so, he quickly pulls his wrist away.
Sehun’s response to the action is something that he’ll never forget: red eyes, tearstains marring perfect complexion, brows crumpled together in agony, arm still outstretched in hope, and lips slightly parted to form a silent scream of the word, “No.”
Jongin feels himself shaking as he forces himself to continue onwards. “I’ll be back soon, Sehunnie. Don’t worry about me. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
It has become much too easy for Jongin to roll these lies off his tongue.
(He should’ve stayed. He should have ignored everything that logic was telling him and embraced the universe’s final offer of blissful ignorance. But he doesn’t, because its human nature to take opportunities for granted.)
--
When Jongin arrives back at what he believes to be his school, he angrily throws open the doors to an all too familiar “classroom,” and begins screaming in a blind rage as soon as he realizes that there’s not a single soul in the room.
“I know everything now!” he screams, “Goddammit, let me out of this nightmare! I remember everything! Let me out!”
But his cry seems to fall on deaf ears.
So he continues to roar and cry and shriek until his throat has made itself raw. And at this point, he collapses onto the cold tile beneath him, his insides burning with something that hurts so much more than the burn of a cigarette against his skin. Something inside him is contorting itself painfully within his body, and Jongin swears that if this pain continues, then his body will go numb in a matter of seconds.
Suddenly the door opens, and his teacher races into the room with wide eyes, “Kai, what on earth are you doing here at this hour-“
His eyes dart towards him almost immediately, blazing with an unforgivable fury as he points an accusing finger at him, “Let me out! Let me and Sehun out!”
The man is clearly bewildered by the youngster’s words and actions as he carefully responds with a faint, “Let you out of what? You still have class tomorrow. You need to get home and catch up on some rest. It’s clear that you need it.”
“Stop lying to me!” he cries, pulling at his hair in frustration and all but ripping it out. “The gig is up! I remember it all, and you’ve had enough fun. Let us both out and I promise not to press charges!”
He expected at least some sort of affirmation from the man beside him, but he continues to ramble on and on about how Jongin must be getting overly stressed from all the schoolwork and how it just means that he really needs to go home and sleep before the coming school day. And his words continue to increase the panic within the young boy because he knows he has to be right. He knows that his memories have truly come back and that it’s his job to fix everything for him and Sehun because Sehun couldn’t. It was up to him, and he had no intentions of letting Sehun down.
He just needed to get the man before him to know that he was telling the truth. That he wasn’t insane and was actually one of the most sane of all of their test subjects.
He had to force them to allow him to wake up out of this augmented reality.
Because that’s what it had to be: an alternative universe that was created to serve as a torturous hell for him and Sehun alone.
With only these thoughts to guide him, Jongin pulls the chipped lighter out of his pocket and brings the bright orange flame to his skin.
He would have thought that at least some part of him would feel a sort of pain aching throughout his body, but no such thing occurs. In fact, the sensation reminds him of smoking cigarettes-except instead of a warm feeling expanding throughout your chest, setting yourself on fire seems to expand that warm feeling throughout your entire being.
Perhaps if this was another time and another place, Jongin would have laughed at his unfortunate situation and nudged Sehun into laughing along with him.
But no such thing happens.
The flames are suddenly doused.
Jongin’s eyes open for the first time in a long time.
--
The room is gray. Dark. The walls are soaked in dread and blood and screams and tears and under any other circumstances, Jongin would probably be begging to be in any other place.
But in all actuality, the young man thinks that he might actually start crying tears of joyous bliss at any given moment. The fact that he was just a thin piece of fabric away from being considered naked meant nothing. It didn’t matter that the feeling in his hands and feet were nonexistent due to the tight constraints around his wrists and ankles. It definitely didn’t matter that he could very clearly make out the jagged lines of incisions made into his skin, all in the hope to perfect an experiment that was on the road to going horribly, horribly wrong.
The only thing that matters is that he’s awake. He’s free.
And now that he’s in the real world, he can save Sehun. Because the only thing that has ever really mattered to Jongin is Sehun.
The name alone is enough to sting the back of Jongin’s eyes as he envisions the younger male as he had last seen him: desperate, and hopeless, and just needing him. The name alone is enough to remind Jongin that when Sehun needed him most, he didn’t help him.
This revelation sends his heart into a frenzy because he realizes that he denied Sehun. Sehun, who he had promised the entire world to.
“Please,” he whispers, completely going against what he had previously determined as his most logical course of action, “Please just let me see him.” The two figures dressed in lab coats stained with what he can only assume to be the blood of the innocent look at one another in silent contemplation. And when Jongin realizes that they are about to deny him this single request, he desperately adds, “I’ll do anything. Please. Please, I need to make sure that he’s okay.” And even though he had wanted to give off the impression of a strong, capable young man, the entire façade crumbles as sobs begin to rack his body. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, before continuing their path down to his bare chest, and eventually to the dark entity of the ground.
He’s not sure if it’s pitiful demeanor or his promise to do whatever they ask of him that does the trick, but the two men part from one another to reveal a pale being clad in only loose shorts, perspiration glistening on the pale skin of his chest. The artificial light dangling above his head makes the brown of his hair shine despite the dirt that is evidently tangled within his locks. His ribs protrude out of his narrow frame and angry red is strewn all across his body.
“S-Sehunnie?” Jongin croaks, the cry sounding as pathetic as ever as it escapes his raw throat.
Is he alive? Is he breathing? No. Sehun can’t die. Sehun won’t die. Jongin refuses to let such a reality come into passing.
He attempts to raise his arm to reach out for him, but his binding is too tight. He feels his insides contort painfully and suddenly there are splotches of white trying to consume his vision, and Jongin screams because he’s come so far and he refuses to let the world of white take him away from his reality once more. He can’t fail Sehun. He won’t fail Sehun.
And suddenly the two scientists step towards one another once more, blocking the image of his dying lover once more, and Jongin screams.
“It is time to resume the experiment, Kai.”
The name sends Jongin reeling and the pain in his chest is too intense to be real and he doesn’t know if it’s possible, but he imagines that his tears only fall faster. “N-No. Please. Please don’t send me back there. Don’t send us back there. It hurts too much. Please, please…”
“We can’t trust you anywhere else. The last time we tried to study you in our laboratories, you almost killed both yourself and Sehun. We can’t have you trying something insane like that again.”
For a split second, Jongin finds himself scrambling to find truth in these words, but he quickly realizes that even if they were telling the truth, it would mean nothing. Because with every moment that Jongin wastes, Sehun continues to die, and there is only so much time left and Sehun can’t die. So he speaks like the desperate man he is, shrieking the first things that come to his frail mind, “I won’t! I promise that I won’t! Please, please just let him go. Let Sehun go. Give him back his memories so that he can remember who he is and so that he can remember who I am and so that he can remember us. That’s all. I’ll do anything you want after that. I just… Sehun. He’s all that matters. Please, please…”
And he murmurs that single syllable over and over again because he feels like it’s the only word that his lips can shape without cracking and becoming immobile. The word gives him hope like the name Sehun does, and hope is all he has left at this point.
“Such sensitivity only skews our perceptions of reality. You have potential. Stop wasting it. Sehun doesn’t matter. Sehun shouldn’t matter.”
These hateful words shatter whatever hope Jongin has left.
(What does hope even mean, anyway? No such thing exists. It’s just another children’s fantasy. Jongin should’ve grown up a long time ago.)
And as though to prove his point, one scientist signals the other, and suddenly volts of electricity are racing through the other side of the room and they part from one another to reveal the spazzing body of a young man.
The cry that rips through Jongin’s throat is inhumane and unrealistic. The sound of an animal.
When Jongin can inhale smoke from his bound position, the electricity stops and brown eyes flutter open through the pain, “J-Jong…”
Sehun. Sehun is alive.
This realization makes Jongin freeze. And for the first time in a long time, he feels the corner of his lips dragging themselves upwards in an attempt at a grateful smile.
But suddenly the electricity is flickered back on and Sehun is screaming for Jongin to save him and Jongin begins to scream as well because they’re really killing him now. He lashes at the chains holding him down and feels the metal dig into his skin more and more.
But it doesn’t matter. Because nothing matters but saving Sehun. Without Sehun, Jongin is nothing.
When the volts finally stop, the name Jongin is gone from Sehun’s lips, “K-Kai… Kai, Kai, Kai….”
And Jongin feels his heart break even more. “N-No! No, Sehun! It’s me! Jongin! Not Kai, Jongin!”
The younger boy is panting heavily, desperately trying to catch his breath. His body is still trembling as he timidly looks up at the man before him through the sweaty bangs plastered onto his forehead. There’s a pained confusion in his eyes as he takes in the scene before him, before he quietly whispers, “Jongin…? I don’t know a Jongin…”
The older man across from him feels his existence shatter into a million pieces.
But Sehun is still looking around the room franticly, eyes sharpening as he begins to become more and more aware of his surroundings. “W-Where’s Kai? I want Kai,” he whimpers, lower lip trembling as sobs begin to rack his body.
Jongin wishes for himself to be electrocuted. For some sort of flame to consume his being in order to force his heart to stop beating so that all the pain will go away. It hurts. Everything hurts and he wants it to go away, but the only way to make everything stop is for Sehun to be alright and he’s not. He’s alive and he’s breathing, but they’ve broken him. They’ve broken him because Jongin wasn’t able to protect him even though it was his duty to do so. Jongin was the only one who could have saved him, and he didn’t.
Jongin thinks that true understanding leads to nothing but suffering.
And it’s all his fault.
______________________________________________________________________________
a/n: i hope this isn't too crappy. the idea was a lot better in my head.