(for bbubbleddae) Stars
For: bbubbleddae
Title: Stars
Genre angst, fluff, romance, smut
Rating: NC-17
Side Pairings (if any): Past Chansoo, minor Baekyeol, mentions of Krisho
Warnings: [Click to view]Mental health problems, which makes consent… iffy. But! All sex is intended to be perceived as consensual.
Word Count: ~8k
Summary: Jongin doesn’t come from the skies, but he shines as if he does.
Author's Note: Dear reader, this story is a little bit rushed, but I hope it’s still readable. I would like to clarify that I do not have any psychiatric conditions, nor do I know how they work. I have never been to a psychiatrist, and have never been to a mental hospital. This story is written from my experiences with relatives (schizophrenia runs in my family,) as well as the AP psychology class I took a long time ago. Also, the smut scene was written separately and then shoved in, so it might be a bit jarring. I hope you enjoy it! xoxoxo
Water runs from the faucet, over Kyungsoo’s hand, and circles the drain. He has it set to a steady trickle so that he can feel the coldness without getting used to it. He wants something stimulating to dispel the apathy- the numbness- that he feels inside him. But it isn’t working; his hand is already beginning to acclimate and perceive it as lukewarm.
He can feel eyes against his back. The doctor is watching him. He always is.
“Can you tell me a little about what you’re doing?” The question is phrased kindly, innocuously. It sounds like something the stereotypical therapist would ask a patient, and Kyungsoo’s lips curl into an almost-smile. The psychiatrist- what was his name again? Junmyeon?- is ultimately a sweet, harmless, and ordinary man.
“I just wanted to feel the water,” he answers nonchalantly, turning off the faucet and nodding in the doctor’s direction. For a moment, they hold one another’s stares, but then Junmyeon looks down at his clipboard and starts writing something down.
Kyungsoo snorts without feeling any humor. With leaden steps, he leaves the sink and approaches the cot. The mattress sinks under his weight as he seats himself on its edge. He wraps his fingers around the steel bedframe, trying to glean some sensation from it.
The bedframe is cold enough. It isn’t vivid enough.
“Do you know why your family sent you here?” This question, while posed in a way such that it seems just as innocent as the first, carries a bit more weight to it. Kyungsoo knows why, of course. The reasons line the interior of his arms, as surely as they line the edges of his mind. With a frown, he tugs the sleeve of his turtleneck down to his wrists,
He knows the reason, but his mouth is still dry when he tries to voice it. Frowning, he licks his lips, before beginning again. “Because I wasn’t dealing too well with the breakup.”
That’s honestly both a truth and a lie. The feelings of worthlessness and apathy had always been at the peripherals, but he’d always been able to keep them at bay. And when he and Chanyeol had gotten together, well, there had been the hope that he could banish them away entirely. That he could turn his life around and transfigure himself into a functioning individual.
So much for plans, he thinks bitterly. When Baekhyun stepped into the picture, all his dreams fell away like ash.
Junmyeon nods, as if Kyungsoo is right. “What I think you have,” the psychiatrist theorizes, “is a case of major depressive disorder. A very mild case, mind you. This particular episode was probably induced by the breakup.”
Kyungsoo snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he mutters.
The doctor continues on as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “Luckily, the disorder is very treatable,” he blabbers brightly, incessantly. “And even in lieu of therapy, it usually resolves itself. So just hang in there, alright Kyungsoo? I’ll make you a list of all the possible treatments you have at your disposal, and you can make the decision as to which one you want.”
Knowing that going along with the doctor’s orders is the best way to secure release, Kyungsoo suppresses his sigh, smiles tightly, and nods. His mind is trudging down the possible paths he could take: it seemed to him that the most expedient option was to get himself on meds and hide his symptoms well enough to secure discharge.
Seemingly satisfied with the progress they’d made, Junmyeon smiles. “In any case, welcome to Fairwater State Hospital,” he trills. “We’ve recently reopened with a new psychiatric program, and we’re happy to be treating patients again. I hope that you will find your stay both soothing and productive.”
Kyungsoo closes his eyes, before letting them roll into the back of his head.
-
He meets Jongin in the lunch line.
Standing there, holding his tray and waiting for his turn at the salad bar, Kyungsoo feels extremely self-conscious. In his mind, he realizes that he isn’t well- but then he doesn’t feel like he has anything in common with the disheveled woman standing in line before him, lethargically banging her own tray against her forehead.
It’s beginning to seem like he’s the only relatively normal person in the entire facility.
“Weird lot, aren’t they?”
He spins around, and it seems he’s judged too soon, because there’s a relatively normal looking boy behind him. Tall, tanned, and just a hair shy of being truly broad, the boy behind him seems- for all intents and purposes- like he should be out on the beach tossing volleyballs, rather than collecting dust in an institution like this.
Remembering that a response is expected of him, Kyungsoo nodes dazedly. “Yeah, they are,” he agrees.
The boy seems pleased. Sticking out a hand, he smiles, revealing white teeth that contrast spectacularly with his darker skin tone. “My name is Jongin,” he says conversationally, introducing himself. “What’s yours?”
Kyungsoo blinks, before taking the hand and giving it a shake. “Kyungsoo,” he answers. It would be amiss to say that he felt excitement brewing inside him, but he feels more at ease. He can’t imagine how being around crazy people day-in and day-out would at all benefit his mental state, and finding a sane person presents a bit of a relief.
“What are you in for?”
Snorting Kyungsoo shakes his head. The line has advanced some, so he walks forward, Jongin in tow. “Depression,” he answers listlessly. He doesn’t see the harm in disclosing his condition anyway. “Hopefully, I’ll be out in a month, or sooner. What about you?”
Jongin smiles again, but there’s a look in his eyes now, and it makes Kyungsoo feel a tad wary. “I’m completely normal, but the doctor,” and he spits out the word with force and scorn, “Told my parents that I’m a schizophrenic.” He looks a little lost for a moment, but snaps out of it with a shake of his head. “I know what they’re planning. They’re going to keep me locked up for life.” The last bit is whispered conspiratorially, much to Kyungsoo’s alarm.
“Are they now?” Kyungsoo says, suddenly much less eager to keep conversing with his new acquaintance.
The other boy nods solemnly, eyes taking on a mad glint. “It’s because I’m an alien with teleporting powers, and they want to keep me to study. I heard them planning, speaking in covert codes. They think they’re so stealthy because they’re spies. But I know better. It’s all lies. This place is all lies.”
“All lies…” Kyungsoo repeats unenthusiastically.
Sighing, he raises a hand up to rub his temple. Just his luck. Apparently, life had determined that his wishes for normalcy were not worth conceding to, and had instead decided to acquaint him with a paranoid schizophrenic.
Seemingly registering his reaction, the other boy deflates. “You don’t believe me,” he accuses.
“I believe you,” Kyungsoo says.
The other boy looks searchingly into his eyes. “You’re not lying, are you?”
Jongin looks insanely vulnerable as he asks the question, his voice timid and small. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but he decides to humor him. It couldn’t hurt. And anyway, he was going to be out in short time (he hopes.)
“No,” Kyungsoo shakes his head with a pale smile. “No, I’m not.”
That brings a brilliant smile to Jongin’s visage. “I knew it,” he crows. “You don’t look like one of them. You look honest. Real.”
Kyungsoo bites his lip to suppress a tired sigh. “If you’re an alien with teleporting powers, why don’t you just teleport yourself away?” he asks logically with a raised brow.
Shaking his head, Jongin looks him in the eye with a dead serious gaze. “Power dampeners,” he mouths, pointing upward toward the ceiling.
Looking up, Kyungsoo sees nothing but the awful wallpaper employed by the hospital.
-
They don’t meet again until the following week, when Junmyeon persuades Kyungsoo to attend his group therapy session.
“It will be good for you to get to know some of the others,” the doctor had suggested encouragingly, obnoxiously sincere smile plastered on his face as usual, clipboard clutched in hand. “I really think it’s a great chance to try and get you to open yourself up more. If you’ve improved substantially by your evaluation- which is at the end of the month, by the way- then I can sign your release forms and you’d be free to go.”
Kyungsoo had frowned, giving the matter some serious consideration. While group therapy sounded awfully monotonous, the idea of an early release was attractive. “What do we have to do at these group sessions?” he had queried suspiciously.
Junmyeon had immediately done his best to set him at ease. “Nothing too discomfiting,” he assured Kyungsoo hastily. “Just swap some stories, give each other advice. That sort of thing.”
“Sharing circle,” Kyungsoo surmises dryly. “The epitome of modern psychiatry.”
The doctor smiles uncomfortably, scratching his head.
It hadn’t sounded all that bad, which was why Kyungsoo is here now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a circle of chairs. The arrangement makes him feel like a fifth grader again- which isn’t an altogether awful feeling, just not pleasant. It doesn’t mesh with his person, but he doesn’t hate it.
Jongin is here too, a familiar face in a group of strangers. The vibrancy from their first encounter is not present; something muted is in its place. He slouches into his chair, his face arranged in a pout. Clearly, the schizophrenic is not here of his own volition.
“Alright everyone,” Junmyeon claps his hands together, face absolutely radiant. “Welcome to group therapy!”
Not a single reaction. The only sound in the room that follows Junmyeon’s cheerful voice is the creepy mutterings of some of the patients.
His enthusiasm dims somewhat at the lackluster response, but the psychiatrist rallies his spirits admirably. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves?” he suggests. “I’m Dr. Kim Junmyeon, and I will be your therapist for today.”
Kyungsoo, feeling pity for the doctor, offers a grunt of acknowledgement. He is the only one.
“Excellent!” the doctor cries. “Thank you for volunteering. Why don’t you tell us your name and why you’re here?”
He’s half-tempted to ignore the request, when he remembers that he’s here to try and demonstrate his improved mental state. Still, he shoots the doctor a dirty, mutinous look before he begins. “My name is Do Kyungsoo,” he exposits dryly. “I’m here for clinical depression.”
It feels a little weird. He’s been introducing himself a lot lately.
Not a word follows, as if no one else intends to introduce themselves. Perhaps realizing this, Junmyeon says, “Why don’t you tag someone else, Kyungsoo? That way we can keep the round of introductions moving.”
Why don’t you, Kyungsoo is tempted to retort, but he catches himself before he can.
Blinking, Kyungsoo turns his eyes toward the other patients. Most of them look intimidating and disheveled, and he doesn’t feel comfortable choosing them. His eyes roam until they settle on Jongin. He’s not sure if he’s comfortable picking him either, but at least the other boy is a known quantity, to some degree.
“You go next,” he says, pointing.
Jongin looks up confusedly. “Who, me?” When Kyungsoo nods in affirmation, the taller boy scrunches up his face. “What am I supposed to say again?”
“Who you are and why you’re here,” Junmyeon reminds him patiently.
“Oh, right.” He’s veritably bouncing in his chair now. “My name is Kim Jongin and I’m a teleporting alien. I’m here because they want to study me.” The words are all delivered in a matter-of-fact manner, and Kyungsoo has to actively suppress the urge to cringe.
None of the other patients react to the preposterous claim, but Kyungsoo has come to expect that.
“Now Jongin,” Junmyeon says sternly. “You know that’s not why you’re here. What did your last doctor tell you during your final evaluation?”
Refusing to meet Junmyeon’s eyes, Jongin remains dead silent.
“Jongin,” the psychiatrist says again, an edge of authority in his voice.
Jongin’s brows knit together. “He says I have schizophrenia,” he states plainly, his voice getting louder and more frenzied with each word. He looks up, and there’s a wild flicker of fire in his eyes. “But he’s a fraud and a liar! He’s getting paid to keep me locked up in a place where they can study me!”
By the time he’s done speaking, his voice is so loud that the sounds are reverberating from the wall. It’s a veritable shout, and executed with enough passion to match the determined look on his face.
Junmyeon seems taken aback at the forcefulness of Jongin’s response. “Of course if that’s what you want to believe, Jongin,” he says placatingly, backtracking. Obviously, he could tell that the boy was growing distressed. “Why don’t you choose the next person now?”
Kyungsoo allows his eyes to fall shut. Group therapy had been such an awful idea.
-
For some reason, Kyungsoo wakes up in the middle of the night. He’s usually not one for trouble with sleep- his depression had caused him to sleep most of the day away on some occasions. But it was hard to sleep when everything just felt wrong: the coarseness of the blanket; the lights in the hallway; the dripping of the faucet; the quiet thrum of the heater; the uneven heavy breathing from the corner…
Kyungsoo sits straight up in his bed and flips on the light switch. He almost has a heart attack.
Sitting there in a swivel chair is Jongin. He is hugging his knees to his chest protectively, and aiming his intense, unblinking gaze on Kyungsoo. It’s an unnerving feeling honestly, like something out of a horror movie, and he could feel himself pulling the blankets closer, while his body arranged itself in a slightly defensive posture.
“Jongin,” he hisses angrily, fists clenching the sheets. “What are you doing here? Go back to your room.”
“Can’t sleep,” comes the reply. The eyes still haven’t blinked, and a chill is beginning to run up Kyungsoo’s spine.
He puffs his cheeks in frustration. “Okay, so you can’t sleep. That still doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re in my room.”
Those creepy eyes flicker up at him, finally blinking. “You’re real,” he mutters. “You’re real and everything else is a lie. It’s safe here.” He scoots in closer, wheeling the swivel chair over, and lays his head against the side of Kyungsoo’s mattress, arms reaching out in an incomplete facsimile of an embrace. “I can sleep here,” he says happily, closing his eyes.
“Jongin!” Kyungsoo hisses angrily, pushing the other boy’s head off. He steels himself against the pout and the puppylike look of confusion, because this cannot be happening right now. He can’t deal with this mess. “Jongin, go back to your room. What are the doctors going to say if they find you here in the morning?”
Stubbornly, Jongin shakes his head, leaning back in against the mattress. “Don’t care,” he mumbles.
“Jongin,” he tries once more, grabbing the other boy by his shoulder and giving him a good shake.
No avail.
Maybe Kyungsoo hasn’t been able to harden his heart as much as he had hoped, or perhaps he is just too sleepy. But prolonging this petty argument doesn’t make sense in his head, so he just huffs. “Fine,” he declares. “Go ahead and sleep there. Get in trouble with the nurses tomorrow. See if I care.” Satisfied with those words, he pulls the covers back up and lays back in his bed.
-
Jongin does not get in trouble with the hospital staff like Kyungsoo had predicted.
“He’s never opened up to anyone before,” Junmyeon blabbers excitedly into Kyungsoo’s uncaring ear, hands waving about in enthusiastic motions. The smile on his face is the same one he wore when he discovered the uncooperative Kim Jongin drooling over the sheets in the morning, and Kyungsoo is beginning to wonder if the expression is going to be permanent. “This is such a huge step for him. It could be the stepping stone toward treating his disorder.”
And that’s nice and all, but-
“I would like to move him in with you,” Junmyeon pleads. “I think that being around someone he can trust and open up to would do wonders for his stability.” A pause. “It’ll be good for you too, Kyungsoo. Having another person around could offset your apathy.”
There’s just that.
“My room is pretty small,” Kyungsoo says carefully. And it’s true. There’s no way that they’re going to be able to fit another cot into the room. In fact, most of the rooms in the institution are on the smaller side. He isn’t a claustrophobe by any means, but stuffing another person in the room seems both impractical and unhelpful.
Not that he’s complaining. Honestly, he was afraid of being locked in a padded cell at first.
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Junmyeon waves a hand dismissively, cheerful smile never once diminishing. “We’ll be moving the both of you to a larger room.” A pause. “If you agree to this, of course,” he amends himself.
Kyungsoo frowns. It’s not that he doesn’t like Jongin (well, he’s alright with him,) but he’s simply a little averse to the idea of sharing a room with anyone from this institution. He’s in here for simple depression, but many of the other patients were anywhere from slightly impaired, to completely and utterly insane. Jongin himself was on the weightier side of the spectrum, being a schizophrenic and all.
But his opinion on the matter wasn’t a strong one anyway, and if this could help with Jongin’s recovery, well, who was he to stand in the way of a successful avenue of treatment? “Do whatever you want,” he mutters, turning his gaze back to his lap.
Junmyeon beams. “You have no idea how grateful I am,” he professes, positively gushing. “You won’t regret agreeing to this, I promise.”
With an uncomfortable shrug, Kyungsoo lays back into his bed and closes his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of the bedsheets, of rest. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he will in fact regret his decision, despite what the doctor assures him.
Despite himself, he can feel a smile forming on his lips. Pessimism never fails him.
-
“Do you see them?”
Jongin stands by their window, his trembling hands perched precariously on the sill, his faraway eyes staring out into the dark abyss of the pitch black night. His voice, as he whispers the question, is curious and suspicious all at once.
Kyungsoo spares Jongin a lazy glance, before ultimately returning his attention to the novel he’d been reading. “See what?” he asks noncommittally. Having been confined to the same room as the other boy for several weeks, Kyungsoo has grown used to his unpredictable and unfathomable ways. It is never possible to truly understand what the other boy is talking about, so he has given up trying, and is instead resolving to humor him. “The stars?”
“My family.” Jongin points to the sky, where a few lonely stars glitter bravely to illuminate the night. “They try to pick me up every day,” he confides, “But the nurse shuts the window, and they can’t get in. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to see them properly.”
Setting his novel down on the bed stand, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “You alien family?” he asks, giving the other boy his full attention.
In the weeks past, Kyungsoo has become fully acquainted with Jongin’s delusions. Various conspiracy theories were shared: that Jongin was an alien kidnapped from his home planet for study and experimentation; that the institution in which they both resided was, in reality, a government facility; that Dr. Kim Junmyeon was secretly an agent sent to ensure everything ran smoothly, that all aliens were suppressed.
It had taken all of Kyungsoo’s self-control not to laugh and offend the other boy.
Jongin nods, snapping him out of his reverie. “But it’s not like they really care about me,” Jongin replies, eyes downcast. “They just don’t want the earthlings learning their secrets.” A despondent sigh. “I hear them talking about it at night.” Though the schizophrenic is much taller than himself, Kyungsoo finds that the other looks very small, very lost in the moment.
His words fill Kyungsoo with a strange sense of foreboding. He doesn’t know if it’s just a manifestation of Jongin’s delusions, or if it’s his real-life situation at home, but the idea that the other boy feels the same feelings of worthlessness just doesn’t sit well with him for some reason. Jongin’s life is already so awful, with his schizophrenia and his delusions. He’s already lost so much life. The boy looks best with the cheerful smile he wore on the day they met; he doesn’t need depression robbing that from him as well.
Eventually, Kyungsoo finds his tongue. “I’m sure your family cares about you,” he chooses his words carefully, making his way over to the window and resting a comforting hand on the other boy’s shoulder. All too well, Kyungsoo knows how saying the wrong things can set off the worst of reactions, and he doesn’t want to be on the other end of that. “There’s probably just been a misunderstanding somewhere along the lines.”
Jongin takes in his words, but remains silent and stony faced.
“Hey.” Kyungsoo pats Jongin on the cheek. “Do you believe me?” he demands. He doesn’t know if it’s the truth or not, and frankly, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. It’s what Jongin needs to hear in the moment, and he’s going to make the other boy feel better if it’s the last thing he does.
Slowly, a small and hesitant smile spreads over Jongin’s face, starting from the thinning of his lips and ending with the crinkling of his warm, brown eyes.
“I believe you,” he answers. “You’re honest. Real.”
-
Kyungsoo, for his part, gets a fair amount of visitors (his mother, his father, occasionally Jongdae or one of the others,) but for Jongin it’s a much rarer occurrence. So it’s with surprise that he opens the door to admit a pointy looking young man he doesn’t even begin to recognize.
“Hey there.” The voice is subtly bright. “My name is Sehun,” he introduces himself politely, a stoic smile fixed in place. “I’m here to see Jongin.”
Blinking in surprise, Kyungsoo says nothing and simply gets out of the way to allow Sehun entry.
Jongin is sitting by the window and staring out into the distance, no doubt searching for signs of his alien family. He’s always like this, when he’s not sharing a new conspiracy theory with Kyungsoo, or trying and failing to hold a decent conversation. Sehun’s presence does not seem to have registered with him in the least.
To his credit, Sehun seems to take it all in stride. The boy pulls out another chair to sit down beside Jongin, smile now uncomfortable. “Kkamjong,” he greets, voice sounding a little stuffy with emotion. “How are you doing, man?”
The nickname does seem to catch Jongin’s attention; he levels his gaze toward the newcomer. But his eyes betray no friendliness- there is only appraisal, a flicker of recognition, and the barest beginnings of anger.
“Sehun,” Jongin mutters bitterly. “Are you here to poke at me too? Did they recruit you as well?”
Kyungsoo is frozen in place as he watches the scene unfold. Not knowing the history between the two of them, he feels a bit like a helpless onlooker.
“No, no,” Sehun protests, waving his hands about. “I just wanted to visit my best friend.” He is obviously distressed, if his pained facial expression counts as any kind of confirmation. “Meet any cute girls in here?” he asks randomly, in an obvious attempt to defuse the situation.
Kyungsoo finds himself frowning.
Jongin refuses to allow his friend to change the subject. “This is the first time you’ve visited,” He notes detachedly, and Sehun winces.
“Jongin, I-” But he doesn’t get the opportunity to finish.
Fists curling in anger, Jongin sneers. “I don’t need your friendship,” he says savagely, his voice growing louder with each syllable, eyes gaining a crazed gleam. “Where were you all this time? Your friendship is a lie! Just like this place and everything in it!”
“Jongin-”
Sehun’s protests are silenced when Jongin reaches over and throws a pillow at him. Stunned, he barely manages to dodge it in time.
“Maybe you should leave,” Kyungsoo ventures. It’s not his place, but the situation seems to be getting out of hand extremely fast.
Sehun looks as if he wants to object, but when Jongin sends a vase sailing past his head and into the wall, he seems to rethink that. Holding back tears, the tall boy makes his way out of the room with quick, unsteady steps. The door swings shut behind him, clanging uncertainly.
Jongin is standing, anger making him seem so much taller. His chest rises and falls with the force of fury. Turning his attention back to him, Kyungsoo places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Jongin,” he says, in a tone as placating as he can. “Jongin, it’s alright, he’s left.” When that fails, he moves his hand to the small of the other boy’s back, rubbing circles into it, attempting something approaching a comforting embrace.
It takes many soothing words to calm the Jongin down- it could have been minutes, or hours- but eventually, it is accomplished. His breathing even, his heart rate slowing to a calm: it brings a wave of relief running through Kyungsoo, as well as a splash of something he doesn’t quite understand- is it fondness? Protectiveness?
There is a knock on the door, and it catches both of their attentions. Dr. Kim Junmyeon stands there, his expression something like a cross between a smile and a grimace. “Sehun called me over,” he explains, walking into the room with some confidence in his step. “He said that Jongin had a bit of a reaction to his presence?”
Kyungsoo nods. Jongin says nothing.
With a strained sigh, he seats himself in the chair Sehun had left vacant. “Jongin,” he begins, and his voice is gentle and kind and patient. Somehow, he even manages to balance that benign smile on his face, despite his obvious stress. “Can you tell me what happened.”
As always, Jongin looks upon his doctor with suspicious eyes. “Why should I tell you anything?” he asks defensively. “You can drop the act. I know you’re not really a doctor. I know that you’re part of the team of scientists that study me.”
Junmyeon’s smile drops, and he sighs disappointedly. “You might as well just tell me then,” he points out the flaw in Jongin’s logic. “If what you’re saying is true, I’ll just see everything in cctv anyway.”
Kyungsoo isn’t too sure that feeding Jongin’s delusions is the right thing to do, but he supposes that the licensed psychiatrist is more qualified to make that call than he is.
Lifting his chin up, Jongin positively snarls. “Then why are you asking me for?” he demands.
“Because I want to hear your perspective,” Junmyeon explains. “So I can understand your condition better, and help treat you.”
“I don’t need your treatment,” Jongin says darkly.
After a brief, unproductive silence, Kyungsoo feels the need to intervene. “Jongin,” Kyungsoo interjects softly, hesitantly. “Maybe you should just tell him.”
The other boy tenses under his touch for a moment, and Kyungsoo fears he might have crossed the line. But then Jongin’s muscles relax.
“Okay then,” Jongin says at last, voice a hoarse whisper.
-
It is with a raised eyebrow that Kyungsoo regards the face of his former best friend. Baekhyun looks nervous and exceedingly guilty- as he well should- but he looks well. Healthy. Happy. Despite all the anger he had felt- and, to a degree, still feels- toward the other, Kyungsoo is glad to note this. Whatever Baekhyun had done, he and Kyungsoo had once been the best of friends, and it is not something easily forgotten.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Kyungsoo says frostily. His face is carefully arranged in his classic practiced stoic expression. It came to him now more easily than ever. “After what you’ve done.”
Baekhyun winces at the chilly reception, evidently feeling a little burnt by the searingly frigid words. “I know, I know,” he says in a rush, wringing his hands. His words carry the weight of remorse. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”
Kyungsoo makes an affirmative sound. “So long as you know,” he says, mollified.
The other boy shivers, despite the furnace-like warmth emitted by the heating vents. If Kyungsoo scrutinized closely enough, he could probably make out the trails of a cold sweat tracking its way down Baekhyun’s little face.
When it becomes obvious that no further acknowledgement would be forthcoming, Baekhyun’s expression falls. Nonetheless, he presses onward, some strong and quiet determination reinforcing his backbone. “I just wanted you to know,” he fights to get the words past his lips, his voice rattling like a bag of rice. “That I’m so, so sorry about how we went about everything. And about how everything turned out.”
Surveying him, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “But you’re not sorry that you did it,” he guesses shrewdly.
Looking guiltier than ever, Baekhyun seems to just collapse in on himself. His shoulders slump miserably, and he averts his gaze, unable to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, sounding cornered and defensive.
Kyungsoo says nothing.
“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun beseeches, obviously uncomfortable with the silence. “Kyungsoo, I’m sorry.”
“I think,” Kyungsoo says, standing up, “that this conversation is over.”
-
This time, it’s Kyungsoo staring out the window.
He doesn’t really see the glowing of the stars, or the swaying of the trees. The breeze sifting in through the open window barely registers, even as it tickles the bare skin on his arms. He’s lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, struggling to find his balance. Seeing Baekhyun, and being reminded of his own breakup with Chanyeol, has brought back the negative thoughts in full force.
Baekhyun is normal. Baekhyun is bright and happy- generally, anyway. Anyone with two working eyes can easily see why Chanyeol would choose him over Kyungsoo. After all, why go with the apathetic, defective model? He stares down at the scars on the inside of his arms, wishing he could feel the rush of endorphins just once more.
“How are you feeling?”
Jongin’s voice is soft, but it slices through Kyungsoo’s thoughts like the sharpest of knives. He turns to see his roommate standing in the doorway, gazing at him with eyes that speak of concern and sympathy. Kyungsoo assumes that it’s one of Jongin’s rare bursts of lucidity.
“I’m feeling alright,” Kyungsoo replies, lying through his teeth. The emptiness inside isn’t growing, thankfully, but it’s still a pervading feeling. He tries to muster a smile, but somehow, he can tell that he doesn’t quite manage it.
He can tell from Jongin’s face that he’s not convinced. “Who was that?” Jongin asks, but his tone is far from curious and it’s exceedingly obvious to Kyungsoo that he’s just poking the situation from a more accessible angle. “Your visitor from earlier?”
“No one important,” Kyungsoo replies evasively. It’s not true. Even if Kyungsoo doesn’t want him around right now, Baekhyun will always be important to him. Friendship is meant to weather such things; it’s just Kyungsoo isn’t sure he’s able to be a good friend again so soon.
“That’s not true. If he wasn’t important to you, then you wouldn’t be so upset.” Jongin is just guessing, but he’s hit the nail on the head. Kyungsoo flinches, and Jongin notices. “Hey, you don’t have to hide your feelings here,” he laughs. “We’re in a goddamn mental hospital. Feel free to be mental.”
Kyungsoo quirks his lips. Jongin’s easygoing cheer is infectious, and somehow its dispelling the dismal fog that hung around him like a noose. “Yeah,” he admits at last. “Baekhyun used to be my best friend.”
“Used to be?”
With a sigh, Kyungsoo turns away from the window and nods his head in affirmation. “There are just some things that are hard to get past,” he explains. “Betrayals.”
Jongin makes a discontented noise. He is silent for a moment- thinking. “Are you an alien too?” he wonders. “Did Baekhyun sell you out to the government like Sehun and my parents did to me?” The question is nonsensical, but his eyes are so sad.
The lucid period is over. Just like that, he has slipped away like the cold water from the faucet.
-
Kyungsoo doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, he really doesn’t. All he had meant to do was return to his room after taking a shower. But he passes by Junmyeon’s office en route, and when he overhears Jongin’s name, he can’t help but snoop.
“- Jongin has been improving immensely,” Junmyeon argues, sounding supremely harried and stressed out. “He’s really been opening up to one of our newer patients, and if you’d just give him a little more time-”
“With all due respect, Dr. Kim,” a new voice interrupts, “Time is a luxury that we simply don’t have. My husband will be taking a job overseas soon, and it is imperative that Jongin be made presentable by then.”
That must be Jongin’s mother, Kyungsoo concludes. He doesn’t much like the sound of her voice; she sounds so stuffy, so imperial- like someone used to getting their way. And the way she’s speaking about Jongin is more than a little callous.
“I understand. The thing is that while schizophrenia can be treated, there is no cure. I’m afraid that what you are asking me to do here simply isn’t feasible.”
“We simply can’t have him around and about the way he is,” Jongin’s mother makes a disgruntled noise. “I suppose there is little choice in the matter. Tell me, Dr. Kim, how amenable would you be to perform a lobotomy on my son?”
Lobotomy?
There is a silence, one that complements his own reaction in an exemplary fashion. Kyungsoo strains, but cannot hear anything save for the breathing of the room’s occupants. It seems the mere suggestion has also shocked the psychiatrist into silence.
“Surely you’re joking, Mrs. Kim,” Junmyeon finally responds after a lengthy silence. “There is no need for such a barbaric, outdated procedure. Medications and other treatments have largely taken the place of the lobotomy.”
“You know how Jongin is with the medication,” Jongin’s mother says meaningfully.
“Yes,” Junmyeon acknowledges, “but we’re exploring other avenues of treatment and…”
Kyungsoo shuts his eyes, clutches his towel tightly, and barrels past the room. He doesn’t want to hear anymore.
-
“I want to take Jongin out for a bit.”
Junmyeon tenses upon hearing the words. “Absolutely not,” he says, as if even the mere suggestion was beyond scandalous. "You might be well-adjusted enough that I would allow such a trip, but Jongin… he’s a schizophrenic, and not a high-functioning one either.”
Kyungsoo knows there is a truth to the psychiatrist’s words. And normally, he would not press the issue. But time is of the essence.
“Not anywhere crowded,” he assures the doctor hastily, hands in the air in a gesture of openness. “I just wanted to show him around the park, that’s all.”
Pinching his nose and leaning back, Junmyeon sighs. “I swear you guys just live to make my life difficult,” he complains, but there is no heat to his words, only wryness. “Jongin’s guardians have made it very clear that under no circumstances is he to be allowed to leave custody.”
At the mention of Jongin’s family, a rush of anger sweeps through Kyungsoo. It’s a bit overwhelming, especially after the lengthy periods of apathy. His hands grip the table, skin slipping against the varnished wood. It’s something he files away in the corner of his mind, however; other things are more important at the moment.
“Are we going to pretend that Jongin’s guardians have his best interests at heart?” he asks tremulously.
Junmyeon looks up sharply at his words. “Kyungsoo…”
“I heard you talking with his mother,” Kyungsoo plows on, anger driving his words from his brain to his mouth to the air between them. “A lobotomy. For fuck’s sake.”
It’s like all the energy just flies out of Junmyeon. He looks tired and haggard- far older than his years for sure. Without the cheery smile and the positive attitude, it’s easier to make out the fine lines around his eyes, the beginnings of wrinkles on his forehead.
“It’s not in my hands,” he says. “I tried to talk her out of it. I tried.”
Kyungsoo’s heart sinks, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. “Then you know how important this is,” he stresses, hoping to appeal to the psychiatrist’s softer side.
Knowing eyes search his. “Be back before curfew,” Junmyeon instructs. “If anyone asks, I didn’t know anything about this.”
-
The two of them lay on the hillside together, long blades of grass around them swishing in the cool evening breeze. Thankfully, it is a mostly clear night with the only clouds being far to the west, and the stars are easy to make out against the dusky blanket of the sky.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them like this,” Jongin murmurs, more to himself than anything. He holds out one hand in the air, as if futilely pressing up against the sky.
Kyungsoo’s throat feels choked. He reaches over and squeezes Jongin’s other hand. “I know,” he whispers. “I know it has.”
There is no conversation, no words or laughter. A serene silence reigns as the two of them stare up into the expansive world above them, around them. They are deaf to the whistling of the grass and insensible to the caress of the wind; the only things that matter are the stars twinkling above them: so far, and yet, so warm.
The silence is broken when Jongin speaks. “My dad and I used to stargaze at night,” he says, and his voice is so lost and childlike that it breaks Kyungsoo’s heart.
Once he’d put his wrist to the edge of a sharp blade, and put his hand against the freezing cold water from the faucet. All he’d wanted was to feel something. But if this pain is what feeling is all about, then it isn’t something he wants anymore.
“Your alien father?” Kyungsoo is able to gather himself to ask.
A quiet chuckle, perhaps a figment of his imagination. “No,” Jongin replies, giving Kyungsoo’s hand a squeeze in return. “My dad. He died a few years ago.” His voice grows quiet towards the end of the sentence, as if his thoughts are trailing off. “He never had to see me this way. I wonder what he’d think if he saw me now.”
Kyungsoo scoots closer, until they can both feel each other’s warmth. “I’m sure he’d still love you regardless,” he whispers.
There is no need for words after that. They hold one another’s hands and watch the stars.
-
When Kyungsoo plunges two fingers into the velvety warmth, Jongin breathes out a shaky sigh. His eyes are on anywhere but Kyungsoo, and his face bears two pretty spots of blush that have him looking more than a little buzzed. There are patches of color on his shoulders and his chest as well, and Kyungsoo finds the sight a little endearing.
“What are you thinking about?” Kyungsoo asks, gently scissoring his fingers to better stretch the orifice.
There is no reply, but the intense look of concentration on Jongin’s face is answer enough. Kyungsoo takes a few moments to probe around the warm hole, before sliding his fingers in a little more deeply, this time provoking a surprised hiss from the other.
“Painful?” Kyungsoo questions, already feeling chagrined. It is not his intention to cause his partner pain.
Jongin shakes his head. “Just sensitive,” he mumbles in reply. “Keep going.” He’s panting heavily now, something like a dog, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his face, his shoulders, and his surprisingly solid chest. (And Kyungsoo has yet to find a gym in the mental hospital, so heaven knows how Jongin must be working out. Though he’s not complaining. At all.)
Emboldened by Jongin’s words, Kyungsoo complies. He pulls both fingers out slowly, before probing the rim with three fingers instead. After some token resistance, he is able to breach the entrance with little difficulty, watching with fascination as the other boy slowly takes his fingers in, centimeter by centimeter.
Lube is not exactly in plentiful supply for mental patients, so the two of them had to improvise with saliva. Unfortunately, saliva dries up much more quickly, as Kyungsoo discovers when friction begins to return to the slip and slide of his fingers. He remedies this by lobbing another glob of saliva on his fingers before returning them to their previous venture.
Cold pinpricks against Kyungsoo’s back startles him, and he looks up to find the skies slowly opening. Sometime when neither of them had been keeping track, the clouds from the west had migrated, and now water was sprinkling the world.
“Why’d you stop?” Jongin questions, peering up from under long lashes. He looks positively ethereal under the illumination of the moonlight. “Keep going.”
“It’s raining,” Kyungsoo says.
A look of frustration comes over Jongin’s visage. “I don’t care,” he says stubbornly. “Keep going.”
So Kyungsoo complies. He continues to stretch the other with his fingers, playing with the ring of muscle, doing his best to loosen it in the least traumatic way possible. It takes a while because of his gingerness, but eventually he is able to bring Jongin to a comfortable level of looseness.
Clumsily, Kyungsoo unbuttons his pants and pulls them halfway down. He takes his cock in hand and places it against the cleft of Jongin’s ass.
“Are you ready?” he asks. It sounds silly, even to him- like some line out of a cheesy harlequin novel. But he doesn’t want to push Jongin if he isn’t ready.
Warm brown eyes seek his own. “I’ve never done this before,” Jongin confesses.
It’s really not news to Kyungsoo. Logically, Jongin has been in the psychiatric facility for quite a while, and there would have been very little opportunity for him to get laid. But it was a fact that Kyungsoo knew about, but hadn’t really processed. Jongin’s words make it more real for Kyungsoo, and his wide eyes widen even more.
Kyungsoo leans down so that his warm breath ghosts over the soft flesh of Jongin’s neck. “I’m honored,” he whispers.
Slowly, gently, he presses in. Jongin sucks in a breath, and that distantly registers somewhere in his mind, but at front and center is the sensation of being sheathed within another person. He’s never topped before- with Chanyeol, he had bottomed- but the smooth velvety warmth of Jongin’s hole surrounding his member is as good a feeling as he’s ever felt.
“Still alright?” he asks, pausing to give Jongin time to adjust if he needs it.
Jongin’s eyes are closed, and he wears an expression that resembles an odd cross between discomfort and pleasure. It takes a while for him to process the question, but once he does, he nods immediately. “It’s fine,” he says.
With his partner’s seeming approval, Kyungsoo pulls out until only the tip remains in Jongin, and then thrusts back in. He’s not 100% sure how to do this, so he’s just copying whatever Chanyeol had done with him before. It seems to work: he derives pleasure from the friction. It’s like masturbating in a way, except tighter, with slightly different sensations, and the thrilling knowledge that he’s buried deep in somebody else rather than in his own hand.
Well, when he thinks about it that way, it’s not much like masturbation at all really.
The sensation that he feels with every thrust is something like the very beginnings of an orgasm; the merest traces of pleasure. He increases the pace, because faster thrusts provide more vivid pangs of pleasure. It’s a strange sensation of heat and tingling mixing in his stomach, and it’s exciting.
Determined to bring Jongin at least a fraction of the same pleasure, Kyungsoo switches angles to begin his search for the prostate gland. His fingers claw into the earth for stability as he leans over Jongin to better accommodate the new angle. It takes him a few tries, but when Jongin releases a shuddery moan, he knows that he’s got it.
Keeping the angle, he begins to accelerate his pace more dramatically. The shockingly cold raindrops make for an exhilarating contrast with the absolutely febrile heat enveloping him. It’s a strange sort of feeling that only accentuates the sexual pleasure he derives from each thrust.
Jongin is the first to cum, spurts of white dotting his chest, his neck, his belly. Distantly, Kyungsoo thinks he hears Jongin calling his name as the orgasm hits, but he can’t be sure because he’s too busy seeking his own. There is a dazed look on Jongin’s face as he lays there, limp, while Kyungsoo continues thrusting away.
Eventually, he can feel his own release approach. It’s like a knot of pleasure tied up at the base of his groin, and with a single thrust, the knot is completely undone, sending ropes of cum into Jongin’s warm, waiting heat.
-
“I’m really sorry, Soo,” Baekhyun says, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I just want us to be friends again.”
Kyungsoo lifts his gaze, looking Baekhyun straight in the eyes for the first time since the incident. His former friend seems anxious, uncertain, and it’s a far cry from the self-assured Baekhyun that Kyungsoo once knew.
“We all want a lot of things that we can’t have,” Kyungsoo says, and the look on Baekhyun’s face is one of complete and utter devastation. Deep in Kyungsoo’s heart, his empathy whirls around like a madman, and he feels the compulsion to take the other boy into his arms and reassure him of their friendship.
“I-I understand,” Baekhyun stammers brokenly.
There’s a part of him- something dark, something festeringly evil- that whispers and urges him to end the conversation right then and there, to hold a grudge. Baekhyun betrayed you. He’s a liar and a thief.
And yet. He thinks back to Jongin and his innocent smile; Jongin and his pitiable hallucinations; Jongin and his bright, brittle laughter; Jongin who doesn’t have enough time. Time is a commodity, he realizes, one that nobody has enough of. There’s not enough time for this pettiness.
“We all want a lot of things we can’t have,” Kyungsoo repeats, “But I think I can let you have this.”
Baekhyun looks stunned, and Kyungsoo smiles.
-
“Baekhyun visited you again,” Jongin observes.
Kyungsoo nods. “Yeah, he did.”
The eyes that look at him are perceptive. He wouldn’t necessarily describe them as sharp, but there’s something knowing, something piercing about them. It doesn’t suit Jongin, and it’s more than a little unnerving.
“You forgave him,” Jongin continues.
“…yes.”
With a sigh, Jongin looks away, pointing his gaze out the window. The strange look in his eye is gone, replaced by something else. A nostalgia. A melancholy.
“I kind of want Sehun to come visit me again,” he says sadly.
-
Kyungsoo sits by Jongin’s gurney, feeling numb.
Today was the day.
Time had gone by too soon.
Jongin lays there, talking a mile a minute, blissfully unaware of what is going to happen to him. He knows that he’s getting a lobotomy, of course. But he doesn’t seem to be taking it- or its ramifications- seriously at all. Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing: though lobotomies had improved markedly from the awful procedures they once were, they were nevertheless far from acceptable, and still presented a daunting prospect.
He’s grown attached to Jongin. He admits it. In a world of black and white, Jongin had given him a splash of color, a spray of life. Despite the delusions- or perhaps because of it- Jongin is one of the most vibrant people Kyungsoo knows. A brilliant light shines within him, unhindered by the depravity of the world around him. It’s admirable, it’s beautiful.
What if the surgery changed Jongin for the worse? In the pages of the history book, the rate of failure far outweighed the rate of success.
There is a knock on the door. Junmyeon stands there in scrubs, a grim look on his face for once.
“We’re ready to start the surgery,” he informs them.
Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter shut. This is awful, just awful. He blames the world for this, for consigning Jongin to such a fate. He blames Jongin’s mother for even bringing up this awful surgery in the first place. He blames Junmyeon for agreeing to perform the operation.
But most of all, he blames himself. Junmyeon had put him and Jongin together so that they could help one another improve. It had all come to nothing.
“You look sad,” Jongin notes.
With a hollow laugh, Kyungsoo brings his wrist up to his eyes to wipe away any tears that might have been forming. “I don’t want you to have this surgery,” he admits, voice hoarse. And he doesn’t, but it’s unfortunately ultimately up to Jongin’s mother, and she’s made her choice.
Jongin looks deep in thought. “Are you going to stay here and wait for me? Will you be here when I wake up?” he wonders.
Biting his lips, Kyungsoo smiles. Jongin is endearing to the end, it seems.
“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ll be here.” But will you?
Eyes narrowing, Jongin frowns. “You really don’t want me to have the surgery?” he asks. “Then I won’t have it. I’m an alien with teleporting powers, remember? I’ll just teleport myself away before they get me into the operating room.”
Kyungsoo forces a laugh.
“Yeah Jongin,” he says. “You do that.”
-
“This is so illegal” Junmyeon hisses, but nevertheless, he helps Kyungsoo wheel Jongin’s gurney down the hall to the emergency exit.
Jongin, for his part, seems too surprised at the turn of events to say much of anything.
“Are you saying you’d rather operate on him?” Kyungsoo demands, still focused on trying to make their getaway. They round the corner, and now all that separates them from freedom is the emergency exit door “Which car is your boyfriend driving again??”
Junmyeon rushes forward to input the code to disable the alarm. “The awful looking yellow car,” he mutters. “What did Yifan call it again? A forfour?”
“What the hell is a forfour??”
The door opens, and they’re out.
FIN
Title: Stars
Genre angst, fluff, romance, smut
Rating: NC-17
Side Pairings (if any): Past Chansoo, minor Baekyeol, mentions of Krisho
Warnings: [Click to view]Mental health problems, which makes consent… iffy. But! All sex is intended to be perceived as consensual.
Word Count: ~8k
Summary: Jongin doesn’t come from the skies, but he shines as if he does.
Author's Note: Dear reader, this story is a little bit rushed, but I hope it’s still readable. I would like to clarify that I do not have any psychiatric conditions, nor do I know how they work. I have never been to a psychiatrist, and have never been to a mental hospital. This story is written from my experiences with relatives (schizophrenia runs in my family,) as well as the AP psychology class I took a long time ago. Also, the smut scene was written separately and then shoved in, so it might be a bit jarring. I hope you enjoy it! xoxoxo
Water runs from the faucet, over Kyungsoo’s hand, and circles the drain. He has it set to a steady trickle so that he can feel the coldness without getting used to it. He wants something stimulating to dispel the apathy- the numbness- that he feels inside him. But it isn’t working; his hand is already beginning to acclimate and perceive it as lukewarm.
He can feel eyes against his back. The doctor is watching him. He always is.
“Can you tell me a little about what you’re doing?” The question is phrased kindly, innocuously. It sounds like something the stereotypical therapist would ask a patient, and Kyungsoo’s lips curl into an almost-smile. The psychiatrist- what was his name again? Junmyeon?- is ultimately a sweet, harmless, and ordinary man.
“I just wanted to feel the water,” he answers nonchalantly, turning off the faucet and nodding in the doctor’s direction. For a moment, they hold one another’s stares, but then Junmyeon looks down at his clipboard and starts writing something down.
Kyungsoo snorts without feeling any humor. With leaden steps, he leaves the sink and approaches the cot. The mattress sinks under his weight as he seats himself on its edge. He wraps his fingers around the steel bedframe, trying to glean some sensation from it.
The bedframe is cold enough. It isn’t vivid enough.
“Do you know why your family sent you here?” This question, while posed in a way such that it seems just as innocent as the first, carries a bit more weight to it. Kyungsoo knows why, of course. The reasons line the interior of his arms, as surely as they line the edges of his mind. With a frown, he tugs the sleeve of his turtleneck down to his wrists,
He knows the reason, but his mouth is still dry when he tries to voice it. Frowning, he licks his lips, before beginning again. “Because I wasn’t dealing too well with the breakup.”
That’s honestly both a truth and a lie. The feelings of worthlessness and apathy had always been at the peripherals, but he’d always been able to keep them at bay. And when he and Chanyeol had gotten together, well, there had been the hope that he could banish them away entirely. That he could turn his life around and transfigure himself into a functioning individual.
So much for plans, he thinks bitterly. When Baekhyun stepped into the picture, all his dreams fell away like ash.
Junmyeon nods, as if Kyungsoo is right. “What I think you have,” the psychiatrist theorizes, “is a case of major depressive disorder. A very mild case, mind you. This particular episode was probably induced by the breakup.”
Kyungsoo snorts. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he mutters.
The doctor continues on as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “Luckily, the disorder is very treatable,” he blabbers brightly, incessantly. “And even in lieu of therapy, it usually resolves itself. So just hang in there, alright Kyungsoo? I’ll make you a list of all the possible treatments you have at your disposal, and you can make the decision as to which one you want.”
Knowing that going along with the doctor’s orders is the best way to secure release, Kyungsoo suppresses his sigh, smiles tightly, and nods. His mind is trudging down the possible paths he could take: it seemed to him that the most expedient option was to get himself on meds and hide his symptoms well enough to secure discharge.
Seemingly satisfied with the progress they’d made, Junmyeon smiles. “In any case, welcome to Fairwater State Hospital,” he trills. “We’ve recently reopened with a new psychiatric program, and we’re happy to be treating patients again. I hope that you will find your stay both soothing and productive.”
Kyungsoo closes his eyes, before letting them roll into the back of his head.
-
He meets Jongin in the lunch line.
Standing there, holding his tray and waiting for his turn at the salad bar, Kyungsoo feels extremely self-conscious. In his mind, he realizes that he isn’t well- but then he doesn’t feel like he has anything in common with the disheveled woman standing in line before him, lethargically banging her own tray against her forehead.
It’s beginning to seem like he’s the only relatively normal person in the entire facility.
“Weird lot, aren’t they?”
He spins around, and it seems he’s judged too soon, because there’s a relatively normal looking boy behind him. Tall, tanned, and just a hair shy of being truly broad, the boy behind him seems- for all intents and purposes- like he should be out on the beach tossing volleyballs, rather than collecting dust in an institution like this.
Remembering that a response is expected of him, Kyungsoo nodes dazedly. “Yeah, they are,” he agrees.
The boy seems pleased. Sticking out a hand, he smiles, revealing white teeth that contrast spectacularly with his darker skin tone. “My name is Jongin,” he says conversationally, introducing himself. “What’s yours?”
Kyungsoo blinks, before taking the hand and giving it a shake. “Kyungsoo,” he answers. It would be amiss to say that he felt excitement brewing inside him, but he feels more at ease. He can’t imagine how being around crazy people day-in and day-out would at all benefit his mental state, and finding a sane person presents a bit of a relief.
“What are you in for?”
Snorting Kyungsoo shakes his head. The line has advanced some, so he walks forward, Jongin in tow. “Depression,” he answers listlessly. He doesn’t see the harm in disclosing his condition anyway. “Hopefully, I’ll be out in a month, or sooner. What about you?”
Jongin smiles again, but there’s a look in his eyes now, and it makes Kyungsoo feel a tad wary. “I’m completely normal, but the doctor,” and he spits out the word with force and scorn, “Told my parents that I’m a schizophrenic.” He looks a little lost for a moment, but snaps out of it with a shake of his head. “I know what they’re planning. They’re going to keep me locked up for life.” The last bit is whispered conspiratorially, much to Kyungsoo’s alarm.
“Are they now?” Kyungsoo says, suddenly much less eager to keep conversing with his new acquaintance.
The other boy nods solemnly, eyes taking on a mad glint. “It’s because I’m an alien with teleporting powers, and they want to keep me to study. I heard them planning, speaking in covert codes. They think they’re so stealthy because they’re spies. But I know better. It’s all lies. This place is all lies.”
“All lies…” Kyungsoo repeats unenthusiastically.
Sighing, he raises a hand up to rub his temple. Just his luck. Apparently, life had determined that his wishes for normalcy were not worth conceding to, and had instead decided to acquaint him with a paranoid schizophrenic.
Seemingly registering his reaction, the other boy deflates. “You don’t believe me,” he accuses.
“I believe you,” Kyungsoo says.
The other boy looks searchingly into his eyes. “You’re not lying, are you?”
Jongin looks insanely vulnerable as he asks the question, his voice timid and small. Kyungsoo doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but he decides to humor him. It couldn’t hurt. And anyway, he was going to be out in short time (he hopes.)
“No,” Kyungsoo shakes his head with a pale smile. “No, I’m not.”
That brings a brilliant smile to Jongin’s visage. “I knew it,” he crows. “You don’t look like one of them. You look honest. Real.”
Kyungsoo bites his lip to suppress a tired sigh. “If you’re an alien with teleporting powers, why don’t you just teleport yourself away?” he asks logically with a raised brow.
Shaking his head, Jongin looks him in the eye with a dead serious gaze. “Power dampeners,” he mouths, pointing upward toward the ceiling.
Looking up, Kyungsoo sees nothing but the awful wallpaper employed by the hospital.
-
They don’t meet again until the following week, when Junmyeon persuades Kyungsoo to attend his group therapy session.
“It will be good for you to get to know some of the others,” the doctor had suggested encouragingly, obnoxiously sincere smile plastered on his face as usual, clipboard clutched in hand. “I really think it’s a great chance to try and get you to open yourself up more. If you’ve improved substantially by your evaluation- which is at the end of the month, by the way- then I can sign your release forms and you’d be free to go.”
Kyungsoo had frowned, giving the matter some serious consideration. While group therapy sounded awfully monotonous, the idea of an early release was attractive. “What do we have to do at these group sessions?” he had queried suspiciously.
Junmyeon had immediately done his best to set him at ease. “Nothing too discomfiting,” he assured Kyungsoo hastily. “Just swap some stories, give each other advice. That sort of thing.”
“Sharing circle,” Kyungsoo surmises dryly. “The epitome of modern psychiatry.”
The doctor smiles uncomfortably, scratching his head.
It hadn’t sounded all that bad, which was why Kyungsoo is here now, sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a circle of chairs. The arrangement makes him feel like a fifth grader again- which isn’t an altogether awful feeling, just not pleasant. It doesn’t mesh with his person, but he doesn’t hate it.
Jongin is here too, a familiar face in a group of strangers. The vibrancy from their first encounter is not present; something muted is in its place. He slouches into his chair, his face arranged in a pout. Clearly, the schizophrenic is not here of his own volition.
“Alright everyone,” Junmyeon claps his hands together, face absolutely radiant. “Welcome to group therapy!”
Not a single reaction. The only sound in the room that follows Junmyeon’s cheerful voice is the creepy mutterings of some of the patients.
His enthusiasm dims somewhat at the lackluster response, but the psychiatrist rallies his spirits admirably. “Why don’t we introduce ourselves?” he suggests. “I’m Dr. Kim Junmyeon, and I will be your therapist for today.”
Kyungsoo, feeling pity for the doctor, offers a grunt of acknowledgement. He is the only one.
“Excellent!” the doctor cries. “Thank you for volunteering. Why don’t you tell us your name and why you’re here?”
He’s half-tempted to ignore the request, when he remembers that he’s here to try and demonstrate his improved mental state. Still, he shoots the doctor a dirty, mutinous look before he begins. “My name is Do Kyungsoo,” he exposits dryly. “I’m here for clinical depression.”
It feels a little weird. He’s been introducing himself a lot lately.
Not a word follows, as if no one else intends to introduce themselves. Perhaps realizing this, Junmyeon says, “Why don’t you tag someone else, Kyungsoo? That way we can keep the round of introductions moving.”
Why don’t you, Kyungsoo is tempted to retort, but he catches himself before he can.
Blinking, Kyungsoo turns his eyes toward the other patients. Most of them look intimidating and disheveled, and he doesn’t feel comfortable choosing them. His eyes roam until they settle on Jongin. He’s not sure if he’s comfortable picking him either, but at least the other boy is a known quantity, to some degree.
“You go next,” he says, pointing.
Jongin looks up confusedly. “Who, me?” When Kyungsoo nods in affirmation, the taller boy scrunches up his face. “What am I supposed to say again?”
“Who you are and why you’re here,” Junmyeon reminds him patiently.
“Oh, right.” He’s veritably bouncing in his chair now. “My name is Kim Jongin and I’m a teleporting alien. I’m here because they want to study me.” The words are all delivered in a matter-of-fact manner, and Kyungsoo has to actively suppress the urge to cringe.
None of the other patients react to the preposterous claim, but Kyungsoo has come to expect that.
“Now Jongin,” Junmyeon says sternly. “You know that’s not why you’re here. What did your last doctor tell you during your final evaluation?”
Refusing to meet Junmyeon’s eyes, Jongin remains dead silent.
“Jongin,” the psychiatrist says again, an edge of authority in his voice.
Jongin’s brows knit together. “He says I have schizophrenia,” he states plainly, his voice getting louder and more frenzied with each word. He looks up, and there’s a wild flicker of fire in his eyes. “But he’s a fraud and a liar! He’s getting paid to keep me locked up in a place where they can study me!”
By the time he’s done speaking, his voice is so loud that the sounds are reverberating from the wall. It’s a veritable shout, and executed with enough passion to match the determined look on his face.
Junmyeon seems taken aback at the forcefulness of Jongin’s response. “Of course if that’s what you want to believe, Jongin,” he says placatingly, backtracking. Obviously, he could tell that the boy was growing distressed. “Why don’t you choose the next person now?”
Kyungsoo allows his eyes to fall shut. Group therapy had been such an awful idea.
-
For some reason, Kyungsoo wakes up in the middle of the night. He’s usually not one for trouble with sleep- his depression had caused him to sleep most of the day away on some occasions. But it was hard to sleep when everything just felt wrong: the coarseness of the blanket; the lights in the hallway; the dripping of the faucet; the quiet thrum of the heater; the uneven heavy breathing from the corner…
Kyungsoo sits straight up in his bed and flips on the light switch. He almost has a heart attack.
Sitting there in a swivel chair is Jongin. He is hugging his knees to his chest protectively, and aiming his intense, unblinking gaze on Kyungsoo. It’s an unnerving feeling honestly, like something out of a horror movie, and he could feel himself pulling the blankets closer, while his body arranged itself in a slightly defensive posture.
“Jongin,” he hisses angrily, fists clenching the sheets. “What are you doing here? Go back to your room.”
“Can’t sleep,” comes the reply. The eyes still haven’t blinked, and a chill is beginning to run up Kyungsoo’s spine.
He puffs his cheeks in frustration. “Okay, so you can’t sleep. That still doesn’t explain why the fuck you’re in my room.”
Those creepy eyes flicker up at him, finally blinking. “You’re real,” he mutters. “You’re real and everything else is a lie. It’s safe here.” He scoots in closer, wheeling the swivel chair over, and lays his head against the side of Kyungsoo’s mattress, arms reaching out in an incomplete facsimile of an embrace. “I can sleep here,” he says happily, closing his eyes.
“Jongin!” Kyungsoo hisses angrily, pushing the other boy’s head off. He steels himself against the pout and the puppylike look of confusion, because this cannot be happening right now. He can’t deal with this mess. “Jongin, go back to your room. What are the doctors going to say if they find you here in the morning?”
Stubbornly, Jongin shakes his head, leaning back in against the mattress. “Don’t care,” he mumbles.
“Jongin,” he tries once more, grabbing the other boy by his shoulder and giving him a good shake.
No avail.
Maybe Kyungsoo hasn’t been able to harden his heart as much as he had hoped, or perhaps he is just too sleepy. But prolonging this petty argument doesn’t make sense in his head, so he just huffs. “Fine,” he declares. “Go ahead and sleep there. Get in trouble with the nurses tomorrow. See if I care.” Satisfied with those words, he pulls the covers back up and lays back in his bed.
-
Jongin does not get in trouble with the hospital staff like Kyungsoo had predicted.
“He’s never opened up to anyone before,” Junmyeon blabbers excitedly into Kyungsoo’s uncaring ear, hands waving about in enthusiastic motions. The smile on his face is the same one he wore when he discovered the uncooperative Kim Jongin drooling over the sheets in the morning, and Kyungsoo is beginning to wonder if the expression is going to be permanent. “This is such a huge step for him. It could be the stepping stone toward treating his disorder.”
And that’s nice and all, but-
“I would like to move him in with you,” Junmyeon pleads. “I think that being around someone he can trust and open up to would do wonders for his stability.” A pause. “It’ll be good for you too, Kyungsoo. Having another person around could offset your apathy.”
There’s just that.
“My room is pretty small,” Kyungsoo says carefully. And it’s true. There’s no way that they’re going to be able to fit another cot into the room. In fact, most of the rooms in the institution are on the smaller side. He isn’t a claustrophobe by any means, but stuffing another person in the room seems both impractical and unhelpful.
Not that he’s complaining. Honestly, he was afraid of being locked in a padded cell at first.
“That’s not going to be a problem,” Junmyeon waves a hand dismissively, cheerful smile never once diminishing. “We’ll be moving the both of you to a larger room.” A pause. “If you agree to this, of course,” he amends himself.
Kyungsoo frowns. It’s not that he doesn’t like Jongin (well, he’s alright with him,) but he’s simply a little averse to the idea of sharing a room with anyone from this institution. He’s in here for simple depression, but many of the other patients were anywhere from slightly impaired, to completely and utterly insane. Jongin himself was on the weightier side of the spectrum, being a schizophrenic and all.
But his opinion on the matter wasn’t a strong one anyway, and if this could help with Jongin’s recovery, well, who was he to stand in the way of a successful avenue of treatment? “Do whatever you want,” he mutters, turning his gaze back to his lap.
Junmyeon beams. “You have no idea how grateful I am,” he professes, positively gushing. “You won’t regret agreeing to this, I promise.”
With an uncomfortable shrug, Kyungsoo lays back into his bed and closes his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of the bedsheets, of rest. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he will in fact regret his decision, despite what the doctor assures him.
Despite himself, he can feel a smile forming on his lips. Pessimism never fails him.
-
“Do you see them?”
Jongin stands by their window, his trembling hands perched precariously on the sill, his faraway eyes staring out into the dark abyss of the pitch black night. His voice, as he whispers the question, is curious and suspicious all at once.
Kyungsoo spares Jongin a lazy glance, before ultimately returning his attention to the novel he’d been reading. “See what?” he asks noncommittally. Having been confined to the same room as the other boy for several weeks, Kyungsoo has grown used to his unpredictable and unfathomable ways. It is never possible to truly understand what the other boy is talking about, so he has given up trying, and is instead resolving to humor him. “The stars?”
“My family.” Jongin points to the sky, where a few lonely stars glitter bravely to illuminate the night. “They try to pick me up every day,” he confides, “But the nurse shuts the window, and they can’t get in. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to see them properly.”
Setting his novel down on the bed stand, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “You alien family?” he asks, giving the other boy his full attention.
In the weeks past, Kyungsoo has become fully acquainted with Jongin’s delusions. Various conspiracy theories were shared: that Jongin was an alien kidnapped from his home planet for study and experimentation; that the institution in which they both resided was, in reality, a government facility; that Dr. Kim Junmyeon was secretly an agent sent to ensure everything ran smoothly, that all aliens were suppressed.
It had taken all of Kyungsoo’s self-control not to laugh and offend the other boy.
Jongin nods, snapping him out of his reverie. “But it’s not like they really care about me,” Jongin replies, eyes downcast. “They just don’t want the earthlings learning their secrets.” A despondent sigh. “I hear them talking about it at night.” Though the schizophrenic is much taller than himself, Kyungsoo finds that the other looks very small, very lost in the moment.
His words fill Kyungsoo with a strange sense of foreboding. He doesn’t know if it’s just a manifestation of Jongin’s delusions, or if it’s his real-life situation at home, but the idea that the other boy feels the same feelings of worthlessness just doesn’t sit well with him for some reason. Jongin’s life is already so awful, with his schizophrenia and his delusions. He’s already lost so much life. The boy looks best with the cheerful smile he wore on the day they met; he doesn’t need depression robbing that from him as well.
Eventually, Kyungsoo finds his tongue. “I’m sure your family cares about you,” he chooses his words carefully, making his way over to the window and resting a comforting hand on the other boy’s shoulder. All too well, Kyungsoo knows how saying the wrong things can set off the worst of reactions, and he doesn’t want to be on the other end of that. “There’s probably just been a misunderstanding somewhere along the lines.”
Jongin takes in his words, but remains silent and stony faced.
“Hey.” Kyungsoo pats Jongin on the cheek. “Do you believe me?” he demands. He doesn’t know if it’s the truth or not, and frankly, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. It’s what Jongin needs to hear in the moment, and he’s going to make the other boy feel better if it’s the last thing he does.
Slowly, a small and hesitant smile spreads over Jongin’s face, starting from the thinning of his lips and ending with the crinkling of his warm, brown eyes.
“I believe you,” he answers. “You’re honest. Real.”
-
Kyungsoo, for his part, gets a fair amount of visitors (his mother, his father, occasionally Jongdae or one of the others,) but for Jongin it’s a much rarer occurrence. So it’s with surprise that he opens the door to admit a pointy looking young man he doesn’t even begin to recognize.
“Hey there.” The voice is subtly bright. “My name is Sehun,” he introduces himself politely, a stoic smile fixed in place. “I’m here to see Jongin.”
Blinking in surprise, Kyungsoo says nothing and simply gets out of the way to allow Sehun entry.
Jongin is sitting by the window and staring out into the distance, no doubt searching for signs of his alien family. He’s always like this, when he’s not sharing a new conspiracy theory with Kyungsoo, or trying and failing to hold a decent conversation. Sehun’s presence does not seem to have registered with him in the least.
To his credit, Sehun seems to take it all in stride. The boy pulls out another chair to sit down beside Jongin, smile now uncomfortable. “Kkamjong,” he greets, voice sounding a little stuffy with emotion. “How are you doing, man?”
The nickname does seem to catch Jongin’s attention; he levels his gaze toward the newcomer. But his eyes betray no friendliness- there is only appraisal, a flicker of recognition, and the barest beginnings of anger.
“Sehun,” Jongin mutters bitterly. “Are you here to poke at me too? Did they recruit you as well?”
Kyungsoo is frozen in place as he watches the scene unfold. Not knowing the history between the two of them, he feels a bit like a helpless onlooker.
“No, no,” Sehun protests, waving his hands about. “I just wanted to visit my best friend.” He is obviously distressed, if his pained facial expression counts as any kind of confirmation. “Meet any cute girls in here?” he asks randomly, in an obvious attempt to defuse the situation.
Kyungsoo finds himself frowning.
Jongin refuses to allow his friend to change the subject. “This is the first time you’ve visited,” He notes detachedly, and Sehun winces.
“Jongin, I-” But he doesn’t get the opportunity to finish.
Fists curling in anger, Jongin sneers. “I don’t need your friendship,” he says savagely, his voice growing louder with each syllable, eyes gaining a crazed gleam. “Where were you all this time? Your friendship is a lie! Just like this place and everything in it!”
“Jongin-”
Sehun’s protests are silenced when Jongin reaches over and throws a pillow at him. Stunned, he barely manages to dodge it in time.
“Maybe you should leave,” Kyungsoo ventures. It’s not his place, but the situation seems to be getting out of hand extremely fast.
Sehun looks as if he wants to object, but when Jongin sends a vase sailing past his head and into the wall, he seems to rethink that. Holding back tears, the tall boy makes his way out of the room with quick, unsteady steps. The door swings shut behind him, clanging uncertainly.
Jongin is standing, anger making him seem so much taller. His chest rises and falls with the force of fury. Turning his attention back to him, Kyungsoo places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Jongin,” he says, in a tone as placating as he can. “Jongin, it’s alright, he’s left.” When that fails, he moves his hand to the small of the other boy’s back, rubbing circles into it, attempting something approaching a comforting embrace.
It takes many soothing words to calm the Jongin down- it could have been minutes, or hours- but eventually, it is accomplished. His breathing even, his heart rate slowing to a calm: it brings a wave of relief running through Kyungsoo, as well as a splash of something he doesn’t quite understand- is it fondness? Protectiveness?
There is a knock on the door, and it catches both of their attentions. Dr. Kim Junmyeon stands there, his expression something like a cross between a smile and a grimace. “Sehun called me over,” he explains, walking into the room with some confidence in his step. “He said that Jongin had a bit of a reaction to his presence?”
Kyungsoo nods. Jongin says nothing.
With a strained sigh, he seats himself in the chair Sehun had left vacant. “Jongin,” he begins, and his voice is gentle and kind and patient. Somehow, he even manages to balance that benign smile on his face, despite his obvious stress. “Can you tell me what happened.”
As always, Jongin looks upon his doctor with suspicious eyes. “Why should I tell you anything?” he asks defensively. “You can drop the act. I know you’re not really a doctor. I know that you’re part of the team of scientists that study me.”
Junmyeon’s smile drops, and he sighs disappointedly. “You might as well just tell me then,” he points out the flaw in Jongin’s logic. “If what you’re saying is true, I’ll just see everything in cctv anyway.”
Kyungsoo isn’t too sure that feeding Jongin’s delusions is the right thing to do, but he supposes that the licensed psychiatrist is more qualified to make that call than he is.
Lifting his chin up, Jongin positively snarls. “Then why are you asking me for?” he demands.
“Because I want to hear your perspective,” Junmyeon explains. “So I can understand your condition better, and help treat you.”
“I don’t need your treatment,” Jongin says darkly.
After a brief, unproductive silence, Kyungsoo feels the need to intervene. “Jongin,” Kyungsoo interjects softly, hesitantly. “Maybe you should just tell him.”
The other boy tenses under his touch for a moment, and Kyungsoo fears he might have crossed the line. But then Jongin’s muscles relax.
“Okay then,” Jongin says at last, voice a hoarse whisper.
-
It is with a raised eyebrow that Kyungsoo regards the face of his former best friend. Baekhyun looks nervous and exceedingly guilty- as he well should- but he looks well. Healthy. Happy. Despite all the anger he had felt- and, to a degree, still feels- toward the other, Kyungsoo is glad to note this. Whatever Baekhyun had done, he and Kyungsoo had once been the best of friends, and it is not something easily forgotten.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Kyungsoo says frostily. His face is carefully arranged in his classic practiced stoic expression. It came to him now more easily than ever. “After what you’ve done.”
Baekhyun winces at the chilly reception, evidently feeling a little burnt by the searingly frigid words. “I know, I know,” he says in a rush, wringing his hands. His words carry the weight of remorse. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now.”
Kyungsoo makes an affirmative sound. “So long as you know,” he says, mollified.
The other boy shivers, despite the furnace-like warmth emitted by the heating vents. If Kyungsoo scrutinized closely enough, he could probably make out the trails of a cold sweat tracking its way down Baekhyun’s little face.
When it becomes obvious that no further acknowledgement would be forthcoming, Baekhyun’s expression falls. Nonetheless, he presses onward, some strong and quiet determination reinforcing his backbone. “I just wanted you to know,” he fights to get the words past his lips, his voice rattling like a bag of rice. “That I’m so, so sorry about how we went about everything. And about how everything turned out.”
Surveying him, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “But you’re not sorry that you did it,” he guesses shrewdly.
Looking guiltier than ever, Baekhyun seems to just collapse in on himself. His shoulders slump miserably, and he averts his gaze, unable to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, sounding cornered and defensive.
Kyungsoo says nothing.
“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun beseeches, obviously uncomfortable with the silence. “Kyungsoo, I’m sorry.”
“I think,” Kyungsoo says, standing up, “that this conversation is over.”
-
This time, it’s Kyungsoo staring out the window.
He doesn’t really see the glowing of the stars, or the swaying of the trees. The breeze sifting in through the open window barely registers, even as it tickles the bare skin on his arms. He’s lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, struggling to find his balance. Seeing Baekhyun, and being reminded of his own breakup with Chanyeol, has brought back the negative thoughts in full force.
Baekhyun is normal. Baekhyun is bright and happy- generally, anyway. Anyone with two working eyes can easily see why Chanyeol would choose him over Kyungsoo. After all, why go with the apathetic, defective model? He stares down at the scars on the inside of his arms, wishing he could feel the rush of endorphins just once more.
“How are you feeling?”
Jongin’s voice is soft, but it slices through Kyungsoo’s thoughts like the sharpest of knives. He turns to see his roommate standing in the doorway, gazing at him with eyes that speak of concern and sympathy. Kyungsoo assumes that it’s one of Jongin’s rare bursts of lucidity.
“I’m feeling alright,” Kyungsoo replies, lying through his teeth. The emptiness inside isn’t growing, thankfully, but it’s still a pervading feeling. He tries to muster a smile, but somehow, he can tell that he doesn’t quite manage it.
He can tell from Jongin’s face that he’s not convinced. “Who was that?” Jongin asks, but his tone is far from curious and it’s exceedingly obvious to Kyungsoo that he’s just poking the situation from a more accessible angle. “Your visitor from earlier?”
“No one important,” Kyungsoo replies evasively. It’s not true. Even if Kyungsoo doesn’t want him around right now, Baekhyun will always be important to him. Friendship is meant to weather such things; it’s just Kyungsoo isn’t sure he’s able to be a good friend again so soon.
“That’s not true. If he wasn’t important to you, then you wouldn’t be so upset.” Jongin is just guessing, but he’s hit the nail on the head. Kyungsoo flinches, and Jongin notices. “Hey, you don’t have to hide your feelings here,” he laughs. “We’re in a goddamn mental hospital. Feel free to be mental.”
Kyungsoo quirks his lips. Jongin’s easygoing cheer is infectious, and somehow its dispelling the dismal fog that hung around him like a noose. “Yeah,” he admits at last. “Baekhyun used to be my best friend.”
“Used to be?”
With a sigh, Kyungsoo turns away from the window and nods his head in affirmation. “There are just some things that are hard to get past,” he explains. “Betrayals.”
Jongin makes a discontented noise. He is silent for a moment- thinking. “Are you an alien too?” he wonders. “Did Baekhyun sell you out to the government like Sehun and my parents did to me?” The question is nonsensical, but his eyes are so sad.
The lucid period is over. Just like that, he has slipped away like the cold water from the faucet.
-
Kyungsoo doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, he really doesn’t. All he had meant to do was return to his room after taking a shower. But he passes by Junmyeon’s office en route, and when he overhears Jongin’s name, he can’t help but snoop.
“- Jongin has been improving immensely,” Junmyeon argues, sounding supremely harried and stressed out. “He’s really been opening up to one of our newer patients, and if you’d just give him a little more time-”
“With all due respect, Dr. Kim,” a new voice interrupts, “Time is a luxury that we simply don’t have. My husband will be taking a job overseas soon, and it is imperative that Jongin be made presentable by then.”
That must be Jongin’s mother, Kyungsoo concludes. He doesn’t much like the sound of her voice; she sounds so stuffy, so imperial- like someone used to getting their way. And the way she’s speaking about Jongin is more than a little callous.
“I understand. The thing is that while schizophrenia can be treated, there is no cure. I’m afraid that what you are asking me to do here simply isn’t feasible.”
“We simply can’t have him around and about the way he is,” Jongin’s mother makes a disgruntled noise. “I suppose there is little choice in the matter. Tell me, Dr. Kim, how amenable would you be to perform a lobotomy on my son?”
Lobotomy?
There is a silence, one that complements his own reaction in an exemplary fashion. Kyungsoo strains, but cannot hear anything save for the breathing of the room’s occupants. It seems the mere suggestion has also shocked the psychiatrist into silence.
“Surely you’re joking, Mrs. Kim,” Junmyeon finally responds after a lengthy silence. “There is no need for such a barbaric, outdated procedure. Medications and other treatments have largely taken the place of the lobotomy.”
“You know how Jongin is with the medication,” Jongin’s mother says meaningfully.
“Yes,” Junmyeon acknowledges, “but we’re exploring other avenues of treatment and…”
Kyungsoo shuts his eyes, clutches his towel tightly, and barrels past the room. He doesn’t want to hear anymore.
-
“I want to take Jongin out for a bit.”
Junmyeon tenses upon hearing the words. “Absolutely not,” he says, as if even the mere suggestion was beyond scandalous. "You might be well-adjusted enough that I would allow such a trip, but Jongin… he’s a schizophrenic, and not a high-functioning one either.”
Kyungsoo knows there is a truth to the psychiatrist’s words. And normally, he would not press the issue. But time is of the essence.
“Not anywhere crowded,” he assures the doctor hastily, hands in the air in a gesture of openness. “I just wanted to show him around the park, that’s all.”
Pinching his nose and leaning back, Junmyeon sighs. “I swear you guys just live to make my life difficult,” he complains, but there is no heat to his words, only wryness. “Jongin’s guardians have made it very clear that under no circumstances is he to be allowed to leave custody.”
At the mention of Jongin’s family, a rush of anger sweeps through Kyungsoo. It’s a bit overwhelming, especially after the lengthy periods of apathy. His hands grip the table, skin slipping against the varnished wood. It’s something he files away in the corner of his mind, however; other things are more important at the moment.
“Are we going to pretend that Jongin’s guardians have his best interests at heart?” he asks tremulously.
Junmyeon looks up sharply at his words. “Kyungsoo…”
“I heard you talking with his mother,” Kyungsoo plows on, anger driving his words from his brain to his mouth to the air between them. “A lobotomy. For fuck’s sake.”
It’s like all the energy just flies out of Junmyeon. He looks tired and haggard- far older than his years for sure. Without the cheery smile and the positive attitude, it’s easier to make out the fine lines around his eyes, the beginnings of wrinkles on his forehead.
“It’s not in my hands,” he says. “I tried to talk her out of it. I tried.”
Kyungsoo’s heart sinks, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. “Then you know how important this is,” he stresses, hoping to appeal to the psychiatrist’s softer side.
Knowing eyes search his. “Be back before curfew,” Junmyeon instructs. “If anyone asks, I didn’t know anything about this.”
-
The two of them lay on the hillside together, long blades of grass around them swishing in the cool evening breeze. Thankfully, it is a mostly clear night with the only clouds being far to the west, and the stars are easy to make out against the dusky blanket of the sky.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen them like this,” Jongin murmurs, more to himself than anything. He holds out one hand in the air, as if futilely pressing up against the sky.
Kyungsoo’s throat feels choked. He reaches over and squeezes Jongin’s other hand. “I know,” he whispers. “I know it has.”
There is no conversation, no words or laughter. A serene silence reigns as the two of them stare up into the expansive world above them, around them. They are deaf to the whistling of the grass and insensible to the caress of the wind; the only things that matter are the stars twinkling above them: so far, and yet, so warm.
The silence is broken when Jongin speaks. “My dad and I used to stargaze at night,” he says, and his voice is so lost and childlike that it breaks Kyungsoo’s heart.
Once he’d put his wrist to the edge of a sharp blade, and put his hand against the freezing cold water from the faucet. All he’d wanted was to feel something. But if this pain is what feeling is all about, then it isn’t something he wants anymore.
“Your alien father?” Kyungsoo is able to gather himself to ask.
A quiet chuckle, perhaps a figment of his imagination. “No,” Jongin replies, giving Kyungsoo’s hand a squeeze in return. “My dad. He died a few years ago.” His voice grows quiet towards the end of the sentence, as if his thoughts are trailing off. “He never had to see me this way. I wonder what he’d think if he saw me now.”
Kyungsoo scoots closer, until they can both feel each other’s warmth. “I’m sure he’d still love you regardless,” he whispers.
There is no need for words after that. They hold one another’s hands and watch the stars.
-
When Kyungsoo plunges two fingers into the velvety warmth, Jongin breathes out a shaky sigh. His eyes are on anywhere but Kyungsoo, and his face bears two pretty spots of blush that have him looking more than a little buzzed. There are patches of color on his shoulders and his chest as well, and Kyungsoo finds the sight a little endearing.
“What are you thinking about?” Kyungsoo asks, gently scissoring his fingers to better stretch the orifice.
There is no reply, but the intense look of concentration on Jongin’s face is answer enough. Kyungsoo takes a few moments to probe around the warm hole, before sliding his fingers in a little more deeply, this time provoking a surprised hiss from the other.
“Painful?” Kyungsoo questions, already feeling chagrined. It is not his intention to cause his partner pain.
Jongin shakes his head. “Just sensitive,” he mumbles in reply. “Keep going.” He’s panting heavily now, something like a dog, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his face, his shoulders, and his surprisingly solid chest. (And Kyungsoo has yet to find a gym in the mental hospital, so heaven knows how Jongin must be working out. Though he’s not complaining. At all.)
Emboldened by Jongin’s words, Kyungsoo complies. He pulls both fingers out slowly, before probing the rim with three fingers instead. After some token resistance, he is able to breach the entrance with little difficulty, watching with fascination as the other boy slowly takes his fingers in, centimeter by centimeter.
Lube is not exactly in plentiful supply for mental patients, so the two of them had to improvise with saliva. Unfortunately, saliva dries up much more quickly, as Kyungsoo discovers when friction begins to return to the slip and slide of his fingers. He remedies this by lobbing another glob of saliva on his fingers before returning them to their previous venture.
Cold pinpricks against Kyungsoo’s back startles him, and he looks up to find the skies slowly opening. Sometime when neither of them had been keeping track, the clouds from the west had migrated, and now water was sprinkling the world.
“Why’d you stop?” Jongin questions, peering up from under long lashes. He looks positively ethereal under the illumination of the moonlight. “Keep going.”
“It’s raining,” Kyungsoo says.
A look of frustration comes over Jongin’s visage. “I don’t care,” he says stubbornly. “Keep going.”
So Kyungsoo complies. He continues to stretch the other with his fingers, playing with the ring of muscle, doing his best to loosen it in the least traumatic way possible. It takes a while because of his gingerness, but eventually he is able to bring Jongin to a comfortable level of looseness.
Clumsily, Kyungsoo unbuttons his pants and pulls them halfway down. He takes his cock in hand and places it against the cleft of Jongin’s ass.
“Are you ready?” he asks. It sounds silly, even to him- like some line out of a cheesy harlequin novel. But he doesn’t want to push Jongin if he isn’t ready.
Warm brown eyes seek his own. “I’ve never done this before,” Jongin confesses.
It’s really not news to Kyungsoo. Logically, Jongin has been in the psychiatric facility for quite a while, and there would have been very little opportunity for him to get laid. But it was a fact that Kyungsoo knew about, but hadn’t really processed. Jongin’s words make it more real for Kyungsoo, and his wide eyes widen even more.
Kyungsoo leans down so that his warm breath ghosts over the soft flesh of Jongin’s neck. “I’m honored,” he whispers.
Slowly, gently, he presses in. Jongin sucks in a breath, and that distantly registers somewhere in his mind, but at front and center is the sensation of being sheathed within another person. He’s never topped before- with Chanyeol, he had bottomed- but the smooth velvety warmth of Jongin’s hole surrounding his member is as good a feeling as he’s ever felt.
“Still alright?” he asks, pausing to give Jongin time to adjust if he needs it.
Jongin’s eyes are closed, and he wears an expression that resembles an odd cross between discomfort and pleasure. It takes a while for him to process the question, but once he does, he nods immediately. “It’s fine,” he says.
With his partner’s seeming approval, Kyungsoo pulls out until only the tip remains in Jongin, and then thrusts back in. He’s not 100% sure how to do this, so he’s just copying whatever Chanyeol had done with him before. It seems to work: he derives pleasure from the friction. It’s like masturbating in a way, except tighter, with slightly different sensations, and the thrilling knowledge that he’s buried deep in somebody else rather than in his own hand.
Well, when he thinks about it that way, it’s not much like masturbation at all really.
The sensation that he feels with every thrust is something like the very beginnings of an orgasm; the merest traces of pleasure. He increases the pace, because faster thrusts provide more vivid pangs of pleasure. It’s a strange sensation of heat and tingling mixing in his stomach, and it’s exciting.
Determined to bring Jongin at least a fraction of the same pleasure, Kyungsoo switches angles to begin his search for the prostate gland. His fingers claw into the earth for stability as he leans over Jongin to better accommodate the new angle. It takes him a few tries, but when Jongin releases a shuddery moan, he knows that he’s got it.
Keeping the angle, he begins to accelerate his pace more dramatically. The shockingly cold raindrops make for an exhilarating contrast with the absolutely febrile heat enveloping him. It’s a strange sort of feeling that only accentuates the sexual pleasure he derives from each thrust.
Jongin is the first to cum, spurts of white dotting his chest, his neck, his belly. Distantly, Kyungsoo thinks he hears Jongin calling his name as the orgasm hits, but he can’t be sure because he’s too busy seeking his own. There is a dazed look on Jongin’s face as he lays there, limp, while Kyungsoo continues thrusting away.
Eventually, he can feel his own release approach. It’s like a knot of pleasure tied up at the base of his groin, and with a single thrust, the knot is completely undone, sending ropes of cum into Jongin’s warm, waiting heat.
-
“I’m really sorry, Soo,” Baekhyun says, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. “I just want us to be friends again.”
Kyungsoo lifts his gaze, looking Baekhyun straight in the eyes for the first time since the incident. His former friend seems anxious, uncertain, and it’s a far cry from the self-assured Baekhyun that Kyungsoo once knew.
“We all want a lot of things that we can’t have,” Kyungsoo says, and the look on Baekhyun’s face is one of complete and utter devastation. Deep in Kyungsoo’s heart, his empathy whirls around like a madman, and he feels the compulsion to take the other boy into his arms and reassure him of their friendship.
“I-I understand,” Baekhyun stammers brokenly.
There’s a part of him- something dark, something festeringly evil- that whispers and urges him to end the conversation right then and there, to hold a grudge. Baekhyun betrayed you. He’s a liar and a thief.
And yet. He thinks back to Jongin and his innocent smile; Jongin and his pitiable hallucinations; Jongin and his bright, brittle laughter; Jongin who doesn’t have enough time. Time is a commodity, he realizes, one that nobody has enough of. There’s not enough time for this pettiness.
“We all want a lot of things we can’t have,” Kyungsoo repeats, “But I think I can let you have this.”
Baekhyun looks stunned, and Kyungsoo smiles.
-
“Baekhyun visited you again,” Jongin observes.
Kyungsoo nods. “Yeah, he did.”
The eyes that look at him are perceptive. He wouldn’t necessarily describe them as sharp, but there’s something knowing, something piercing about them. It doesn’t suit Jongin, and it’s more than a little unnerving.
“You forgave him,” Jongin continues.
“…yes.”
With a sigh, Jongin looks away, pointing his gaze out the window. The strange look in his eye is gone, replaced by something else. A nostalgia. A melancholy.
“I kind of want Sehun to come visit me again,” he says sadly.
-
Kyungsoo sits by Jongin’s gurney, feeling numb.
Today was the day.
Time had gone by too soon.
Jongin lays there, talking a mile a minute, blissfully unaware of what is going to happen to him. He knows that he’s getting a lobotomy, of course. But he doesn’t seem to be taking it- or its ramifications- seriously at all. Kyungsoo doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing: though lobotomies had improved markedly from the awful procedures they once were, they were nevertheless far from acceptable, and still presented a daunting prospect.
He’s grown attached to Jongin. He admits it. In a world of black and white, Jongin had given him a splash of color, a spray of life. Despite the delusions- or perhaps because of it- Jongin is one of the most vibrant people Kyungsoo knows. A brilliant light shines within him, unhindered by the depravity of the world around him. It’s admirable, it’s beautiful.
What if the surgery changed Jongin for the worse? In the pages of the history book, the rate of failure far outweighed the rate of success.
There is a knock on the door. Junmyeon stands there in scrubs, a grim look on his face for once.
“We’re ready to start the surgery,” he informs them.
Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter shut. This is awful, just awful. He blames the world for this, for consigning Jongin to such a fate. He blames Jongin’s mother for even bringing up this awful surgery in the first place. He blames Junmyeon for agreeing to perform the operation.
But most of all, he blames himself. Junmyeon had put him and Jongin together so that they could help one another improve. It had all come to nothing.
“You look sad,” Jongin notes.
With a hollow laugh, Kyungsoo brings his wrist up to his eyes to wipe away any tears that might have been forming. “I don’t want you to have this surgery,” he admits, voice hoarse. And he doesn’t, but it’s unfortunately ultimately up to Jongin’s mother, and she’s made her choice.
Jongin looks deep in thought. “Are you going to stay here and wait for me? Will you be here when I wake up?” he wonders.
Biting his lips, Kyungsoo smiles. Jongin is endearing to the end, it seems.
“Yeah,” he answers. “I’ll be here.” But will you?
Eyes narrowing, Jongin frowns. “You really don’t want me to have the surgery?” he asks. “Then I won’t have it. I’m an alien with teleporting powers, remember? I’ll just teleport myself away before they get me into the operating room.”
Kyungsoo forces a laugh.
“Yeah Jongin,” he says. “You do that.”
-
“This is so illegal” Junmyeon hisses, but nevertheless, he helps Kyungsoo wheel Jongin’s gurney down the hall to the emergency exit.
Jongin, for his part, seems too surprised at the turn of events to say much of anything.
“Are you saying you’d rather operate on him?” Kyungsoo demands, still focused on trying to make their getaway. They round the corner, and now all that separates them from freedom is the emergency exit door “Which car is your boyfriend driving again??”
Junmyeon rushes forward to input the code to disable the alarm. “The awful looking yellow car,” he mutters. “What did Yifan call it again? A forfour?”
“What the hell is a forfour??”
The door opens, and they’re out.
FIN