like a phantasm or a horrible dream; jongkey; pg-15
Title: like a phantasm or a horrible dream
Length: 5674w
Rating: PG-15 (language, implied sex)
Pairing: Jonghyun/Key, Minho/Key
Disclaimer: Purely fiction. SHINee belongs to themselves/SME
Summary: Kibum had found a bottled ghost.
A/N: Happy Belated Birthday hoodedstarr! This is really late, I know. I'm surry ;~; But finally, I'm done! How did this even get so long... whimpers. But omgz me, and jongkey, and longfic, and rated, we don't mix. what even. i think I love you too much or something. :[
And thank you chun_ji for looking through this and encouraging me. I'd have chucked this otherwise. ^^
When Kibum was a little boy of six, he viewed the world like how any other kid would. Life was like lazy Sunday morning cartoons; easy, bright, colourful and happy. He went to school, played with his friends and was doted on by his parents. On odd weeks, he’d kick a ball around with the other boys during recess and on even weeks, he’d play house with the girls. Of course, he’d always be the ‘dad’, as he was the only boy who wouldn’t care if he had to give the girls pet names when playing the game.
When he was eight, the other boys made fun of how he’d run away from an oncoming ball or called him out for ‘running like a girl’. They did it in good humour, and Kibum would either laugh it off or feign hurt - all in good humour. He’d talk with the girls too; about homework, pets or annoying older siblings. His parents worked more than they had been two years ago, and he was constantly left in the care of his maternal grandmother. When he got tired of being nice to his grandmother, he’d sit alone in his room and get lonely sometimes. But it didn’t matter. He knew he had good friends around him in school at least.
Kibum was ten when he noticed a drastic change in how his friends had treated him. The boys wouldn’t play with him anymore. Conversations were dropped to hushed whispers whenever he stepped into his classrooms. Their eyes would rove over him warily, giving him the same regard as they would to an annoying gnat. Because of this, Kibum hung out with the girls instead. At least they would pretend not to hear anything- quickly replacing their panicked expressions into a bright, smiley one- whenever someone coughed out an obnoxious ‘gay boy’ when he was in the vicinity.
It was then that he realised the world has stopped being like happy Sunday morning cartoons.
Kibum had found the bottle when he was 12, while on a holiday trip to one of the minute islands off Java. The island was a tropical paradise - evergreen flora and exotic fauna - transformed into a holiday destination for those mentally-fatigued city dwellers seeking rehabilitation and a getaway from the bustle of city life.
Kibum was grateful for the calming nature of the place; bright blue skies, thick white clouds, fresh, moist scent of the surrounding tropical rainforest hanging in the air and how he could almost taste the salt on his tongue in the sea breeze blowing in from the shores. However, he hated the heat. God, he hated the heat and humidity so damn much.
His parents had signed themselves up for a spa package at the villa they were staying at, and, after declaring a defiant ‘spas are for sissies!’ at them like a spoiled brat, he was left to his own devices. He sulked as he walked along the whole perimeter of the villa- fists balled and brows screwed together in annoyance- and by mid-morning, he had gotten hopelessly bored.
He was leaning against the smooth trunk of a palm tree in the outskirts of the surrounding greenery when something amidst the green grass caught the glint of the sunlight, reflecting it into his eye. He walked closer, and squinting, he picked up the small trinket - an elegantly-shaped glass bottle, tinted blood red. Its smooth, rounded edges lay nicely in his curled palm and it felt hard and cold despite having been baked under the sun. Holding it up eye-level, he studied its contents. He watched the liquid and sand flow like molten lava as he tipped the bottle upside-down and back. Raising his brows and widening his eyes a little, he looked around to see if anyone was watching him, before discreetly pocketing the bottle.
--
You can get me to do anything. I’m here to serve you; protect you. That is my only purpose of existence.
Who are you?
...Your servant.
--
“Screw you, Kibum. I thought we were friends.”
“Huh.” Kibum cocked a trimmed eyebrow at Dongmin. “Well, friends wouldn’t alienate friends because of how he carries himself. I’m sorry that Nicole wouldn’t like you any more than she would a dead animal. Seems that she likes someone who has been alienated by his good friends better.”
Hard knuckles smashed into his face, and the force threw him off-balance, making him stumble a few steps back. With eyes glistening and hand grasping at his bruised nose, he looked up to see his friend seething with pure resentment, fists clenched and chest heaving.
“Go to hell, Kibum.”
He stared unblinking as Dongmin stormed away. The pain started to come to him only just then, throbbing dully at his face like pulsating cancer cells. And a similar but entirely different pain began pinning at his heart like needles.
Kibum could still tolerate living even though he was being shunned by the general population. His self-pride and confidence wouldn’t have let silly, childish things like that come between him and living his life. If things were considered fine before then, then this would be the turning point.
Kibum was 14 when the harsh strings of reality finally whipped him in the face - a good friend had become an enemy, and Kibum stopped knowing what to make of the world anymore.
--
“Look at what he’s wearing. Fucking queer.”
Kibum’s ears burnt as those words reached his eardrums. He clenched his jaw and willed himself not to get stirred. Ever since Dongmin started hating him, Nicole and the girls had given him friendly pats on his shoulder with sympathetic smiles on their faces, saying they didn’t want to be the cause of him losing his friends anymore. Kibum had questioned the mechanics of the humanity in general then, but now six months later, he had passed the point of caring.
...I’m here, Kibum. And I care.
Kibum stopped dead in his tracks and frowned. He stilled and thought for a moment before resuming to walk. He had to be home in half an hour, or else his mother would get worried. His grandmother had passed away recently, and ever since then, his mother had tied a protective silver rope around his ankles. He hardly ever hang out with his friends anymore.
He shrugged. Maybe he had just imagined the voice he had heard in his head.
Kibum didn’t notice it until much, much later though, that it was from that moment on that the teasing and bullying ceased. He lived through middle school and high school pretty much in peace, other than the fact that he lacked the usual company someone his age would have kept and he was alone most of the time. He never knew what made them stop, and for the most part, he never cared enough to find out.
--
Kibum’s eyes rove over the words in the pages of his textbook as he tried to commit the facts to memory. Sitting across from him, an attractive boy was poring over his own study materials, which happened to be music books. Kibum let his eyes wander, from the tip of said boy’s hair, to his face and down to his upper body, stopping where his view was blocked by the desk in between them.
“-Is there something on my clothes?”
Kibum jumped a little, eyes snapping back up. The boy he was just checking out was giving him an amused smirk. Kibum flushed, eyes darting back to his book, trying to focus; only nothing really registered in his mind then, words swimming and coming together to form a blur. He heard a sound, a ruffling of clothes, and he looked up to see the attractive boy on his feet, shimmying his hips as he adjusted his pants.
“...should have worn a belt...”
Kibum averted his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The other boy started clearing his study materials, before his hands stilled. Kibum stole another glance at his face, only to receive a cheeky smile in return.
“See you around, Kim Kibum.”
And then he left- with Kibum flushed red like as if he had been under the heat of the hot sun.
--
Kibum groaned as he turned over in bed. His brows furrowed slightly when he sensed the lack of warmth next to him. Grudgingly peeling his eyes open, he squinted in the dark, hands groping around only to find crumpled blankets, abandoned and cold. Jonghyun must have gone to the bathroom or something. Kibum’s throat suddenly felt uncomfortably dry, and he got up to search for his boxers amongst the pieces of clothing scattered on the floor after last night’s events. He picked them up and put them on before shuffling his way out of the room, stifling a yawn.
They were friends before they were...this; whatever this was. After that library incident, they had constantly bumped into each other and somehow, things had progressed to this. Jonghyun knew about him (‘...takes one to know one,’ he had said with a wink), and never failed to let him know how ‘distinct, unique and attractive’ his personality was and to ‘not be afraid to be yourself’.
Kibum was eternally grateful to Jonghyun. Jonghyun was an individualist; he was like a chameleon that refused to change when put against any colour, while Kibum was like one that struggled in order to fit its surroundings. At 17, Kibum learnt to be proud of his own colours, and he fell in love.
He flipped the switch at the short hallway leading to the kitchenette, flooding the room with light, and he thought, for a short moment, he had seen a glimpse of the unmistakable lump of a human body curled up on the kitchen floor. Rubbing his eyes and blinking the sleep away, it occurred to him that, yes, there was indeed someone lying naked on the cold tile floor, curling up fetus-like and shivering slightly.
“Jonghyun?” Kibum rushed to his side, repeatedly calling his name and nudging his shoulder after his initial shock. “Wake up, Jonghyun. You’re freezing.”
Jonghyun finally stirred, screwing his eyes against the light. “Wha-- Kibum? Why am I in the kitchen?”
“How in the world would I know? You sleep-walked or something, you weirdo,” Kibum said, smirking. “Now get back in there and put on some clothes.”
Jonghyun slowly got on his feet, hands rubbing at the cold skin on his upper arms, not bothering to cover himself up. Well, it wasn’t anything Kibum hasn’t seen anyway. He stretched and moaned obnoxiously. “That’s weird. I don’t usually sleep-walk,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I just remember snuggling against something warm and soft and a little sweaty...” Kibum blushed, and Jonghyun caught it. “-So what say you? Wanna go for another round?” Jonghyun asked, giving Kibum a suggestive leer. Kibum flushed beet red and smacked his chest, hard enough to leave a mark.
“No,” he replied, annoyed. “I’m spent. And thirsty. Now go back to bed. I’m getting water.”
Jonghyun deflated visibly. “As you wish.” He started walking lazily towards the bedroom. He stopped at the doorway to call over his shoulder, “Let me know if you change your mind!”
Jonghyun picked up his boxers from the bedroom floor and put them on. As he straightened up from his bent-over position, something caught his eyes. He looked to see a small, curvaceous bottle on the dresser, catching the dim streetlights from outside and reflecting them into his eyes.
He stepped closer and picked up the small tinted glass bottle that was on Kibum’s dresser. He scrutinized its contents - part-sand, part-dense liquid. He shook it for good measure, wondering if it was one of those nifty, sand-filled ornaments that does cool aesthetic tricks. He was disappointed when it didn’t. He then carelessly pulled at the cap. It gave way and the bottle opened with a clean ‘pop’ sound.
“-Jonghyun! What-- Put that down!” Kibum called in alarm. Jonghyun started and quickly recapped the bottle and placed it back on the dresser, turning around to face Kibum, innocent smile on his face, like a kid that has done something wrong but didn’t want to admit it.
“Kibum.” He gave a small laugh. “Why so tense? I was just looking at some of your stuff.”
Kibum’s pulse had unexpectedly quickened and as he searched Jonghyun’s eyes, he let the ominous feeling pass, returning his heart rate to normal. “Yes... Of course.” He heaved out a deep breath and rubbed his face, wondering what had overcome him.
--
Kibum... Stop ignoring me Kibum.
Stop that. I know what you did. Who exactly are you? I hate the fact you’re in my head. It makes me seem insane.
I’ve already told you many times. You’re not crazy. I’m real. I exist, and not only in your head either. I’ve sworn to be your servant.
...You’re ignoring me again, Kibum. I don’t like that. And you’re getting better at blocking out your thoughts and protecting your mind too.
Oh how glad am I to hear that! Thanks for the compliment!
Kibum, don’t you remember how I’ve been by your side for the past six years?
Yes, I do. And it has nothing to do with Jonghyun, so I order you to leave him alone.
...I only have your best interest at heart.
...Like you even have one.
--
Kibum slammed his body face down on his bed and started punching his pillow. He let out a frustrated scream, voice muffled by the foam-filled cotton. He turned and lay on his back, tracks of hot tears spilling down his cheeks. He hated how everyone thinks he was nuts. He hated how they think they knew him. He hated Jonghyun for doubting him (A psych, and a shaman, for fuck’s sake!). He hated how stupid he was to believe that he could trust Jonghyun. He hated himself for allowing that hatred to be fed.
It consumed him; engulfed him within its suffocating embrace. In trying to scream himself out of his anguish, he only managed to plunge himself deeper in the downward spiral of emotions.
If Minho had a form, or a face, he’d be smirking triumphantly right then at the very sight.
--
“Kibum, please pick up my calls. I care about you, d’you even know that? I’m actually going to libraries for you. I think I know what you’re dealing with. Answer my calls. Please.”
--
Consciousness slowly drifted back to Kibum as he felt tingling sensations under the skin of the tips of his fingers. He tried to unclose his eyes, but somehow they refused to.
Good morning, Kibum.
Kibum’s mind snapped itself to alertness. He became hyper-aware and sensitive. The tingling sensations became strong electrical sparks, bursting on his nerve endings from his fingers, up his arms and shoulders and spreading throughout his chest. He couldn’t move a single muscle. What- What’s going on? he thought.
You left your mind unguarded and open back there.
Kibum’s heartbeat started to speed up. He felt his hand move, fingers lightly trailing at the exposed skin of his stomach. It was his hand, but it wasn’t him. What- what are you doing? he thought.
You were broken. So I took the liberty of making you feel better.
He felt himself shudder, and then he was taking in quick short breaths. Suddenly the air around him felt too thin. The fingers continued to make circles on his skin, and the tingling sensations were getting stronger, threatening to burst out of him through every pore. He realised he was feeling himself; touching himself.
He felt like cursing, and wanted to shut his mind off, lock it. But no, he couldn’t. Not now. He wasn’t in control of his body. And the pleasure was too immense for him to want it to stop just yet.
Relax, Kibum. I only have your best interest at heart.
...Li-like you even - ah! Kibum finally stroked himself to completion, body shuddering in a climax. He gasped, then panted, trying to get his pulse back to normal. After getting down from his high, he started trembling, the back of his eyes starting to prick with pain. Get out of me. You’ve done enough, he thought.
He could almost feel the spirit’s dejection as it slowly flitted out of his mind without another invasive thought. Once free of its possession, Kibum flung his arms over his eyes and fought back a sob.
--
“Call me back, Kibum. Or answer the door. Don’t do this to me. I have a solution. Let’s solve this; work this out. I beg you.”
--
...You know that I only-
-Yeah, yeah, you only have my best interest at heart. I get it. God, you’re so annoying.
...Are you still there?
Yes?
Thanks.
-Minho.
What?
Call me Minho.
--
“- Finally,” Jonghyun said immediately after the front door of the studio flat was opened. “Kibum, where have you been?” He stepped through the door and engulfed the other in an embrace. Pulling back, he studied his face with worry in his eyes. “You’re alright, right? God, I was worried sick!”
“I’m... fine,” Kibum replied with a small smile.
“Good. Did you get any of my texts, voicemails, messages - anything - at all? We need to solve this. This is serious. I know where we can go- and no, not a psych or shaman- I’m sorry about that, I was such an ass. I know someone. Let’s go see him, okay?”
Kibum regarded him with amusement. “Geez, Jonghyun. Lighten up. Look who’s panicking now.”
Jonghyun’s worried gaze lingered on Kibum’s face, and his eyes softened, crease on his forehead smoothing out. A second later the crease returned and he smacked Kibum’s arm, hard.
Kibum winced, scandalized look on his face. “What the hell was that for?” he asked, rubbing his arm.
“You’re such an idiot.”
--
“You need something you believe in. Something true to you, that won’t fail you, will keep you grounded to reality-”
“Is he serious?” Kibum inconspicuously whispered to Jonghyun, who hushed him in response.
“A...nursery rhyme! Maybe- Row, row, row your boat-”
“- I don’t believe in nursery rhymes.”
“Right. Um. How about a...prayer? Now I lay me down to sleep-”
“I’m not particularly religious...”
“Okay then. For a start, how about the alphabet? I’m sure you have faith in it. A, B, C, D, E, F, G - Come on, try it with me, sing along - H, I, J, K -”
“How is this supposed to help me again?”
Jonghyun let out a resigned sigh and patiently said, “Kibum, trust Jinki. He majors in Cultural Anthropology, specialising in Southeast Asian folklore at that! He knows his stuff. Believe me.”
Kibum rolled his eyes, and droned, “A, B, C, D, E, F, G” -a resigned breath- “H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P.”
Jinki’s eager eyes bore into his. “So? Any changes?” Kibum gave him a blank stare. “Oh wait wait,” Jinki continued, shutting his eyes for a second or two, “Is anyone even knocking in the first place?”
“...Knocking?”
“Is any...spirit trying to ‘talk’ to you right now?”
Kibum glanced at Jonghyun as he opened up his mind, much like opening a window. Silence; no invasive thoughts. He turned to Jinki with a bored look and said simply, “No.”
“Well then. Umm,” Jinki started wringing his hands in his lap. “The next time it ‘knocks’, try reciting the alphabet, okay?” He gave a final reassuring smile, and Kibum mumbled a soft ‘Sure’ and got up from the bench, tight-lipped.
He took some quick steps before realising that Jonghyun wasn’t at his heels. He turned back to see Jonghyun talking to Jinki in a seemingly urgent manner.
“Jonghyun, let’s go!” he called, and Jonghyun patted Jinki’s shoulder by way of thanks before hurriedly scurrying after him.
--
Kibum, are you trying to get rid of me?
Crap. A, B, C, D, E, F, G-
You can’t get rid of me. I’ll show you my worth.
-H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P...
--
“-Kibum? Kibum!”
Kibum’s mind snapped back to reality and Jonghyun’s worried face came into focus. “Are you back? You have been spacing out a lot lately. I’m worried about you.”
Ass-licker.
Kibum frowned. No, he’s not. Shut up, Minho.
“Kibum? You’re doing it again.”
“I’m sorry Jonghyun. I’m fine. Stop fretting.”
“Anyway, I’ve asked Jinki to join us for lunch today. I think you need to tell him what you’ve been telling me.”
Kibum couldn’t even open his mouth to make a scathing remark at Jonghyun’s tiresome meddling before the aforementioned boy sidled into the seat across from them with another boy in tow.
“Hi guys.” Jinki beamed brightly at them. “Oh, this here is Taemin. He’s here for um. Moral support.” The light-haired boy next to Jinki gave them both a nod and a small smile in greeting. Kibum refrained himself from rolling his eyes. Great, another person who thinks I’m nuts.
-You’re not nuts.
“So... Kibum. Go on, tell Jinki what’s been going on. He will help you,” Jonghyun urged.
Kibum gave a defeated sigh. “The alphabet is not working.”
‘Cause you can’t get rid of me that easily.
“When he...knocks, I tried reciting the alphabet. He doesn’t go away. He’ll continue being there.” -You don’t want to get rid of me, Kibum- “In fact, he’s still talking to me inside my head.”
“What? You mean now? Right now? He’s talking to you?”
You need me.
Kibum nodded. Jonghyun turned to him with eyes that flit with slight fear, Jinki’s eyes widened and Taemin mouthed a soft ‘no way’.
“Okay Kibum. You need to find something you truly believe in. I’ve already said this before. Your protective mantra has to be something you strongly believe in. Otherwise it won’t work.”
Bullshit.
Kibum grabbed his bottle of water and took a swig from it, nonchalant. Jinki continued, more urgently this time, “Your level of...possession,” he stressed, with finger-air quotations, “is pretty serious. And since you don’t want to see a real professional about this, you really should listen to me --”
“- Hey look. It’s a whole table of fags!”
Jinki’s eyes flicked to the group of well-built boys across from them who were caught in a round of boisterous laughter. He swallowed thickly, then started choking on his own spit. Taemin proceeded to tap his back with a bored look on his face as Jonghyun rolled his eyes pointedly - impatient.
“You were saying, Jinki?”
Jinki breathed in deeply and opened his mouth to continue speaking, but Kibum wasn’t listening anymore. All he heard was the thunderous roars of laughter, not unlike those that have been haunting him his whole life, and all he saw was red. Bastards. You can talk shit about me for all I care. But you can never fuck with my friends. He clenched and unclenched his fists as his eyes flit around angrily -
- Kibum, relax. I’ll take care of them, ...for you, as always.
...I’ll show you my worth.
A spark of alertness went off in his head and he swallowed nervously. Kibum relaxed unwillingly, muscles loosening, as he eyed the jocks from the corner of his eyes, trying hard not to let his worry show on his face as well as in his heart and mind as he had an inkling of what was coming for them. He heard Jinki, without really listening to what he was saying. He glanced at Jonghyun, whose usual perky expression was now laced with worry, and Kibum sighed inwardly.
The next day, there was news that two of the boys from the soccer team had gotten into a major traffic accident, and were unconscious in the hospital with serious injuries. Kibum tried not to think that it was his fault, that it was related to him somehow, but he knew very well that it was otherwise.
He had to get rid of Minho soon.
--
Keep me, Kibum. You’ve found me. I’m yours for you to keep.
--
Kibum hadn’t gone to any of his classes for two weeks. The days seemed to melt into each other- days into nights and nights into days- that he had thought only three days had passed. He stayed in his flat most of the time, accompanied by his bed, and the disembodied voice inside his head. With no judging eyes, no condescending looks, and no unnecessary worried glances thrown at him, he has never felt more at peace.
He had this one dream where he was eight again and he was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. His grandmother, all unsteady limbs and wrinkled skin, had pushed his bedroom door open slightly, and Kibum had closed his eyes and pretended to be sleeping once he had seen her dark silhouette against the hallway light outside. He had heard the slow shuffling of slippered feet against the wooden floor before feeling the dipping of the mattress. He then tried to breathe as evenly as possible.
“My one and only grandson Kibum, you must know that I love you very much. You’re like sunshine to me.”
He had felt rough, calloused hands gently swipe his hair away from his eyes, and then the comforting stroking on his head. And then his grandmother had started to sing.
Kibum had woken up to find tears at the corner of his eyes. The phone started ringing then - it was always ringing and someone was always at the door - but after a while, Kibum stopped hearing them.
...I only have your best interest at heart.
--
“Kibum? Umm hello. Jonghyun asked me to give you a call. I hope you’re doing alright. This is Jinki, by the way. Have you found something you have faith in yet? It’ll do you wonders- much more than the alphabet ever can.
...Well. Just know that you’re not alone in this. Call me back. Oh, or Jonghyun. He cares about you. A lot.
...Well then. ‘Bye.”
--
Kibum lay sprawled on his front on the bed, one arm hanging limp over the edge, hair unkempt, glassy eyes seeing nothing.
Kibum... Kibum...
Kibum shut his eyes. His head was spinning like as if it was caught in a typhoon. The nerves beneath the skin of his arms started tingling and he trembled, like he was really drenched to the bone in the storm. No, not again, he thought.
In his half-awake state, he tried to get a good grip on the alphabet, and began reciting it. A, B, C, D, E, F, G - It wasn’t working. Kibum felt himself slowly lose the connection between his cognitive ability and his motor reflexes. He winced inwardly. He was too exhausted to keep trying. Minho...
It’s okay, Kibum. Relax. I’ll make everything better for you.
At the edge of his sub-conscious, just before he lost complete control, a familiar scene started playing in Kibum’s mind. His grandmother’s voice started to play in his head, low and husky, yet comforting:
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...
...Please don’t take my sunshine away.
And then he lost himself.
--
“Kibum, please, what’s going on? I thought things were getting better. At least tell me what’s going on. Don’t do this on your own. I-I can’t. Without you... I can’t. So please...”
--
Kibum heard loud banging on the door. Then he felt himself getting up. He saw his studio flat, disorganized and messy, as he walked through it. He felt his legs moving to carry him towards the front door, yet he wasn’t willing any of it. It felt strange and uncanny - an out-of-body experience while still in one’s own body.
His hand reached out for the doorknob. Minho, don’t- But it was too late. The door opened to reveal a very dishevelled Jonghyun. Their eyes met, but it was as if Jonghyun didn’t see him at all. He shoved past him to get into the flat. It was as if he knew. Like he knew what had happened. He missed him so much, longed to talk to him, to touch him. Then Kibum remembered suddenly, and tried to keep his emotions in check --
Stop that, Kibum. I’m starting to get sick of having to know about all these soft, gentle ‘feelings’ you have towards him.
Kibum wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. His tear ducts weren’t responding to his own emotions.
“Hi, Jonghyun. What’s happening?” His voice said, and again Kibum was swept away by the strange uncanniness of it all.
Jonghyun breathed seethingly, glaring into his eyes, before storming off towards the bedroom; towards the dresser. Jonghyun snatched the tinted glass bottle from the top of the dresser - Kibum felt his eyes widen - and then he flung it to the floor. The bottle shattered into a myriad of tiny red crystals, each catching the glint of the sunlight seeping in through the windows, and they blinded him. Kibum felt his eyes screwing shut and then the press of the heels of his hands against his eyes. His voice was screaming.
“Kibum! Recite your mantra! Your protective mantra! Kick him out now!”
Kibum panicked. Jonghyun’s words had reached him, but he couldn’t do as he was told. Jonghyun, Jonghyun. My mantra doesn’t work! He felt like breaking down.
“Come on, Kibum, come on...”
You can’t get rid of me! You need me!
“You can do it, Kibum. Jinki told me to get rid of the bottle, and I did. So please. Please come back!”
Amidst all the confusion of his own thoughts mingled with Minho’s thoughts, his muscular control and Minho’s loosening grip on them, his emotions and Minho’s anguish crashing like waves, a familiar song started playing in his head, distant and dream-like. He was so overwhelmed by it all as he tried to recall the alphabet - even the most simplest and basic things like that seemed to fail him now.
A, B, C, D, E, F, G -
Kibum, Kibum, keep me! I have nowhere to go -
H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P -
Haven’t I proven my worth? I’m loyal to you -
“Remember, Kibum, something you have faith in! Please, you can do this!”
His body started thrashing about, bent over forward and back as his fingers grasp desperately at the roots of his hair. He was having a splitting headache. Jonghyun grabbed at his shoulders firmly, trying to hold him down as he called out words of encouragement. Kibum’s eyes clamped shut, and the song that had been coming from a faraway place started playing louder in his head.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey...
I’ve only ever been by your side -
“Come back, Kibum. Come back to me, please!”
Kibum willed his mind to focus on the calm, soothing voice of the distant song. And he began reciting it, following it in his head.
...You don’t know, dear, how much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Jonghyun’s eyes bore into his, like stripping him down to his very soul. The nerve endings in his chest felt like they were making tiny explosions, and the feeling was spreading to his arms and legs. Jonghyun’s eyes twinkled and shone, all vulnerability exposed as he watched on helplessly. Jonghyun, Jonghyun...
The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping,
I dreamt I held you in my arms...
Tears escaped Kibum’s eyes as he fixed them on Jonghyun, the one person that mattered to him right then. His body trembled from the increasing intensity of the tingling sensations in his body.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
Please don’t take my sunshine away
Kibum’s voice broke into a sob as he said the last two lines out loud. He had meant it with every fibre, with the very essence of his vital core. Jonghyun has become his light and his only hope, illuminating the vicious clutch of darkness that has been shadowing his life.
Breath hitching, he latched onto Jonghyun, arms circling his torso- suffocating and vise-like. Helplessness finally lifted off of him. He finally felt free, no invasive thoughts penetrating his mind. He still repeated the song in his head - his very own protective mantra, as he hid himself in the crook of Jonghyun’s neck, the latter rubbing soothing circles on his back and running fingers through his damp hair.
“You’re alright, Kibum. It’s over. Thank god.”
--
Kibum sat slouching at the table in the library, school books and lecture notes spread out in front of him. Eyes flitting across the page, he sighed, weary. He began to stretch his lithe body upwards as Jonghyun came back with two bottles of chilled water. Leaning over purposefully over the table, he placed one under Kibum’s nose, causing the latter to relax his body, eyes trained over his soft, carefree features once again. Kibum’s lips curled into a small smile.
Someone in the vicinity coughed out a loud and clear ‘queers!’
Jonghyun rolled his eyes pointedly, twinkling with mischief, and Kibum’s smile turned into a smirk. Jonghyun turned around slowly at the offender and gave him the finger - both of them - with a polite smile still plastered on his face. Kibum broke into a loud chuckle, earning glares from those who were trying to study at the tables near them. Jonghyun then dropped into his seat with a wink.
Kibum smiled winningly. With Jonghyun next to him, he didn’t need to worry about what anyone else thinks. Jonghyun would be there to stand by him, and would make things better for him, always. Lost, wandering spirits latch on to broken souls, and Kibum swore never to let it happen ever again.
If all else fails, at least he still has his protective mantra - his grandmother’s song of unconditional love.
***