where your heart is; pg; jonghyun/kibum
where your heart is (what you call home)
Jonghyun/Kibum; pg; ~1,000w
When Kibum leaves, there are two hearts he breaks.
He kinds of expected it, in a way, because there’s nothing but awkwardness in Kibum’s touches, nothing but reluctant when he lets him kisses his lips before they are going to sleep. There’s a thick bitter feeling, slumped at the edge of his throat, but he cannot say he did not see this is coming. This.
I’m leaving.
It’s raining when Jonghyun reads it, a single line text message that slaps him hard and makes him wake up, makes him realize that maybe their relationship is just too good, too perfect, too unreal. It feels like the sky, the world is mocking him, with the droplets of water hitting the window, knocking to laugh at him, for his stupidity and imagination and he wonders what makes him this idiot.
(He has always been an idiot around Kibum, but maybe it’s a different story. A misunderstanding, one he doesn’t want to figure out, but does anyway.)
You don’t fall out of love in a second. You don’t plan it either, so maybe it takes you in a surprise, when you look over your shoulder to the one who has been living with you for three years, and find that the thumps against your chest are getting dull, getting old.
Kibum packs his clothes with no tears, no regrets, but there’s a slight ache around his heart, telling him that he is hurting, or going to hurt, the one who he once loved, once cared about. He tries not to look at his clothes (an anniversary present, a souvenir he got from his co-worker, a teasing gift he bought just so Kibum would blush when he said he wanted to wear a couple shirts), leaving things he knows he shouldn’t keep, things that would make him unsure.
He stares at the mark of the ring, mark of the three years they have been going through, on the train going to his hometown. He leaves it on the small table besides the bed, in front of that one picture of them together, kissing and happy, the one he can’t look at without feeling guilty.
First week, and Jonghyun can’t go for a drink to clean up the mess in his head, fuck his works. He almost throws away the ring, stupid ring that he thinks is tying them together, stupid ring that makes him believe of illusions, stupid ring. He grips the twin of it, tight in his hand, crushing, breaking, but he loses his strength when the gold band is burning his palm, so he throws it to the bed,
only to be worried and look for it like a madman when he realizes it bounced to the other side of the room, almost gone. He finds it around the small gap between the cupboard and the wall, and he cries for the first time since everything is crumbling down.
Kibum doesn’t feel comfortable with the lighter feeling of his finger, and he keeps flexing it now and then. He laughs it off when his mother tells him to grow up, but he keeps his mouth shut when his grandmother hits him with her cane, almost curses. He knows he is wrong, he doesn’t need to be hit to realize it, but then.
He can’t sleep through the first week, closes his eyes only when his body protests to him and makes him want to throw up. He deserves it, he is not stupid, so he doesn’t do anything when his eyes are tearing from staring at the patches on the ceiling of his bedroom for too long. It doesn’t feel like home.
His siter visits him after fifteen days; fifteen days of blank stare, of empty conversations, of silent frustration. She force-feeds him, spooning the fried rice she brought from home, made by their mother, down to his throat. She tells him that she is going to hunt that jerk down, clear venom under her voice, to makes his life as miserable as Jonghyun’s. He chuckles and starts eating by himself, tells him to stop saying things she doesn’t mean and pats her shoulder, though inside, he really hopes she does. Not.
(He doesn’t want him to be hurt.)
Kibum has met her, once, during a gathering at Jonghyun’s house. They are similar in a way, his sister and him, loud and brash, bold and harsh, though Jonghyun is softer and gentler, shown more often than not; maybe only to him, but he rather not to think about it. He stares at her, words goes into one ear to the other, flies off to the air, because she is pushing a gold band to his hand, cold and hard. He doesn’t dare to look at it, not even when the shadow of her car is gone.
(So he throws him away, in the end. In the end, it’s a closure, but.)
I miss you, an unsent text message, timed at 01.34 a.m. Morning, and he has not stopped crying. Come home.
I miss you, he says to the phone, static. Timed at 01.34 a.m., and he presses the disconnect button. Can I go back?
(Both of them are, were, broken-hearted, so it is fair. All in all, they are.)
“I’m back.” I’m not going to leave anymore.
When Jonghyun opens the door and sees Kibum, he doesn’t throws himself to the younger man, hugs him with a crushing grip with his arms, missing the familiarity, like he thought he would do. He simply opens the door, and glances at the suitcases beside Kibum’s legs, pretends like no one, neither of them, has left and run away. Kibum is wearing his ring, Jonghyun is wearing his ring, and the unsaid words (I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry, it’s okay, I love you) is left unsaid, sealed with a kiss. Simple and clean, but there’s a promise, linger somewhere along their lips.
“Welcome home.” I’m not going to let go anymore.
A.N.: No, seriously, last piece before my internet connection is cut by my father for the whole next week. This is written a long time before my hiatus lol. It was for shawol_haven, but somehow it was forgotten and I only remember to post this now orz. I’m sorry I’ll take forever to reply your comment, but they are loved ♥
P.S.: By the way, I really need a beta. Is there someone out there who is nice enough to proofread the failures I’ve made and fix it, somehow? I’ll give you my heart in return? ;______;
Jonghyun/Kibum; pg; ~1,000w
When Kibum leaves, there are two hearts he breaks.
He kinds of expected it, in a way, because there’s nothing but awkwardness in Kibum’s touches, nothing but reluctant when he lets him kisses his lips before they are going to sleep. There’s a thick bitter feeling, slumped at the edge of his throat, but he cannot say he did not see this is coming. This.
I’m leaving.
It’s raining when Jonghyun reads it, a single line text message that slaps him hard and makes him wake up, makes him realize that maybe their relationship is just too good, too perfect, too unreal. It feels like the sky, the world is mocking him, with the droplets of water hitting the window, knocking to laugh at him, for his stupidity and imagination and he wonders what makes him this idiot.
(He has always been an idiot around Kibum, but maybe it’s a different story. A misunderstanding, one he doesn’t want to figure out, but does anyway.)
You don’t fall out of love in a second. You don’t plan it either, so maybe it takes you in a surprise, when you look over your shoulder to the one who has been living with you for three years, and find that the thumps against your chest are getting dull, getting old.
Kibum packs his clothes with no tears, no regrets, but there’s a slight ache around his heart, telling him that he is hurting, or going to hurt, the one who he once loved, once cared about. He tries not to look at his clothes (an anniversary present, a souvenir he got from his co-worker, a teasing gift he bought just so Kibum would blush when he said he wanted to wear a couple shirts), leaving things he knows he shouldn’t keep, things that would make him unsure.
He stares at the mark of the ring, mark of the three years they have been going through, on the train going to his hometown. He leaves it on the small table besides the bed, in front of that one picture of them together, kissing and happy, the one he can’t look at without feeling guilty.
First week, and Jonghyun can’t go for a drink to clean up the mess in his head, fuck his works. He almost throws away the ring, stupid ring that he thinks is tying them together, stupid ring that makes him believe of illusions, stupid ring. He grips the twin of it, tight in his hand, crushing, breaking, but he loses his strength when the gold band is burning his palm, so he throws it to the bed,
only to be worried and look for it like a madman when he realizes it bounced to the other side of the room, almost gone. He finds it around the small gap between the cupboard and the wall, and he cries for the first time since everything is crumbling down.
Kibum doesn’t feel comfortable with the lighter feeling of his finger, and he keeps flexing it now and then. He laughs it off when his mother tells him to grow up, but he keeps his mouth shut when his grandmother hits him with her cane, almost curses. He knows he is wrong, he doesn’t need to be hit to realize it, but then.
He can’t sleep through the first week, closes his eyes only when his body protests to him and makes him want to throw up. He deserves it, he is not stupid, so he doesn’t do anything when his eyes are tearing from staring at the patches on the ceiling of his bedroom for too long. It doesn’t feel like home.
His siter visits him after fifteen days; fifteen days of blank stare, of empty conversations, of silent frustration. She force-feeds him, spooning the fried rice she brought from home, made by their mother, down to his throat. She tells him that she is going to hunt that jerk down, clear venom under her voice, to makes his life as miserable as Jonghyun’s. He chuckles and starts eating by himself, tells him to stop saying things she doesn’t mean and pats her shoulder, though inside, he really hopes she does. Not.
(He doesn’t want him to be hurt.)
Kibum has met her, once, during a gathering at Jonghyun’s house. They are similar in a way, his sister and him, loud and brash, bold and harsh, though Jonghyun is softer and gentler, shown more often than not; maybe only to him, but he rather not to think about it. He stares at her, words goes into one ear to the other, flies off to the air, because she is pushing a gold band to his hand, cold and hard. He doesn’t dare to look at it, not even when the shadow of her car is gone.
(So he throws him away, in the end. In the end, it’s a closure, but.)
I miss you, an unsent text message, timed at 01.34 a.m. Morning, and he has not stopped crying. Come home.
I miss you, he says to the phone, static. Timed at 01.34 a.m., and he presses the disconnect button. Can I go back?
(Both of them are, were, broken-hearted, so it is fair. All in all, they are.)
“I’m back.” I’m not going to leave anymore.
When Jonghyun opens the door and sees Kibum, he doesn’t throws himself to the younger man, hugs him with a crushing grip with his arms, missing the familiarity, like he thought he would do. He simply opens the door, and glances at the suitcases beside Kibum’s legs, pretends like no one, neither of them, has left and run away. Kibum is wearing his ring, Jonghyun is wearing his ring, and the unsaid words (I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry, it’s okay, I love you) is left unsaid, sealed with a kiss. Simple and clean, but there’s a promise, linger somewhere along their lips.
“Welcome home.” I’m not going to let go anymore.
A.N.: No, seriously, last piece before my internet connection is cut by my father for the whole next week. This is written a long time before my hiatus lol. It was for shawol_haven, but somehow it was forgotten and I only remember to post this now orz. I’m sorry I’ll take forever to reply your comment, but they are loved ♥
P.S.: By the way, I really need a beta. Is there someone out there who is nice enough to proofread the failures I’ve made and fix it, somehow? I’ll give you my heart in return? ;______;