Super Junior; KangTeuk; Lost
Title: Lost
Fandom: Super Junior
Pairing: KangTeuk
Word Count: 1501
Rating: PG
Summary: Eeteuk gets a call that shatters his world.
Genre: Angst
A/N: So I had this idea a long time ago during one of my routine check-ups when i was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. I wrote some of it on my phone, but that was when i was first writing fanfics, so the first draft was awful and repetitive. I never actually finished it, I just added bits here and there when i was writing it. But since im on another fanfic spree, inspired by some good fics ive read in here, I wrote it in a completely different style than what it once was. I'm considering making a version 2 though, because with this style i cant add in all the imagery i want, so ill think about writing it a different way. Maybe from another POV? idek.
and im sorry for the ending. well, im sorry for the whole fic. im sorry TT____TT
There’s another accident.
You get the call before it’s plastered all over the evening news, pictures and video of tires screeching, twisted metal and a dust of broken glass sprinkled over everything like a crystal powder, making the scene beautiful and bright, coated and glittering in the sparkles of red. It would be beautiful, you think, if it didn’t reek of gasoline and iron and something else, something sharp and stale. The smell of blood. You get the call, a hushed voice pushing down panic, and the little black box in your psyche opens up again and you reel into the memories of pain and the asphyxiation that comes with the crushing fear of loss. You pull yourself together enough to hear the important parts. There were four people in the car, but only one of them was yours.
Your hands are white on the wheel and you’re in danger of crashing too. You fly past dark patches of ice. Death traps. His trap.
You get to the hospital, and it’s still dark. It’s quiet as death, and you think how wrong it feels, because that’s not what should live in the sterile white walls. You’re disheveled, you didn’t even have time to grab a coat, but you didn’t feel the cold on your skin as you drove. You only felt the cold in your blood as you remembered. As you prayed.
When you find out the blood wasn’t his, belonging instead to one of the many people doting on you every day, you don’t feel relief. Just because blood is still in the veins doesn’t mean life is too.
You hurry upstairs, frantic, bare feet pounding on the steps, and the stairwell echoes, loud and jarring against the still air. When you burst into the room, everything is all right again the moment you see him, sitting there, staring at the floor. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, and nothing seems to be wrong. Everything seems to be all right. You can breathe again.
It only takes a moment for your world to shatter.
It happens as he lifts his head and looks at you, questions in his eyes, and there is no warmth. Only confusion.
He looks so lost.
You kneel at his feet, your hand resting on his knee, as you laugh quietly. “What do you mean, you don’t remember? I’m Eeteuk. Teukie, remember?”
He looks so lost.
“It’s me. Jungsoo. …Kangin, please.”
He looks so lost.
“…Kangin?”
No. It’s not Kangin. Whatever it is, it’s empty. You imagine if you shook him, he would rattle. What matters most is gone. What’s inside.
What if it doesn’t come back?
He tells you he doesn’t remember. You don’t believe him. You can’t believe him. If you believed what he was telling you, it would mean everything was lost. Everything.
It isn’t long until you snatch his hand, clutching it to your chest as he gives a half-hearted tug back, a reflex of panic. You grip it to you, holding on for dear life, holding on for your life, for his life, for your life together. He’s stopped looking at you with those eyes full of questions, and it’s worse than if he didn’t. You twist your face, moving it to catch his gaze, and he turns away every time. He’s scared. You’re scaring him. Stop it, you say. You’re scaring him.
He doesn’t kiss the same. Perhaps its because he feels a stranger pressing his lips to his own, desperately, frantically, passionately, messy in abandonment. You’re not a stranger. He has to remember. You try and show him, but he pulls away, and this time he’s not lost, and he’s not scared, he’s hurt. He knows he’s hurting you, and he doesn’t know why. And when Kangin used to hurt you, he would hurt too. So maybe…
You hope against hope that maybe he’s somewhere inside, that maybe he’s still the same.
“Please…I’m sorry, I…I don’t understand.”
But it’s not. He doesn’t remember.
You don’t realize you’re screaming at him until people come running. You don’t realize you’re clawing at his shirt, digging in desperately, until hands are trying to tear you away. You don’t realize you’re crying until he’s crying too, out of fright and sadness and helplessness.
The other members are there, fingers wrapping around your arms and your wrists, tugging and pulling, and you want to resist but they’re so strong. They’re trying to take you away. You can barely process it, and you want to ask why. Why take me away? We were always together. You can’t do this. But they do. You want to hold on to the boy in front of you, even though you’re hurting him too. You need to hold on.
You can feel your fingers loosening, the thin material slipping from them, and you scream louder.
NO! PLEASE! HE HAS TO REMEMBER! HE HAS TO REMEMBER! NO!
It’s a chant that fills the room, shrill and piercing in your panic. You stretch out your hand to him. Help me. He doesn’t. He recoils. You’re trembling as they drag you, screaming, from the room. The last thing you see of him is him trembling too, a bloody scratch on his face.
PLEASE! HE HAS TO REMEMBER! NO!
It fills the white, sterile halls. It’s no longer quiet as death.
KANGIN!
When he hears the last screech of his name, he turns over on his bed and cries. By then, you’re already gone.
***
After that, you don’t get up again. You lay in bed, and all you can see is the off-white white wall of your room, all you can feel in your arms are your knees, tucked up tightly, to where you feel safe. You don’t see when the other members come in the room, to sit by you. You don’t hear when they talk to you, either. They’ve set up a sort of watch, day and night, one of them is always with you. Some more than others.
When Kangin moves back into the house for his therapy, he doesn’t come see you.
The members haven’t stopped trying to feed you, even though it’s useless. Your mouth and your ears and your heart are shut, and your eyes are open, unblinking, staring, always awake but never there. Never eating, never sleeping. Just holding on.
***
It takes a week. Donghae is by your bed, having given Heechul the night off. Heechul never wants to leave you. Heechul watches most of the time, but Heechul needs to sleep too. After tonight, Heechul will never forgive himself.
Donghae can’t hear you the first time you try. You slide your tongue out, dampening your lips with the little saliva you have left, and you try again.
“Donghae.”
In an instant he is kneeling by your bed, hand interlacing with your own, limp by your side. Your eyes flutter in an attempt to blink after so long. Your vision is still fuzzy, your throat still dry.
“Donghae.”
“I’m here.”
Your lips tremble as you fight the urge to cry.
“I’m so tired. So tired.” The last echo is just a breath, a whisper.
Donghae looks at you, and you finally see him. You can see the sadness in his eyes. If you dig deep enough, you can see the understanding, too. He knows. Always the perceptive one.
“I…I’m so…tired.” Tired of fighting. Tired of hoping. Tired of holding on. Tired.
Long fingers thread slowly through your soft brown hair, gently, lovingly, as you shake ever so slightly. His voice is soft, warm. Understanding.
“I know, Teukie, I know. It’s okay.”
Your eyes flicker. You want to say so much, but you can’t.
“It’s okay. I know.”
And you believe him. You allow yourself, because something tells you he really does know. You close your eyes and let out the breath you’ve been holding for oh so long.
When you finally dream about him, you smile in your sleep. It’s been a long time since you’ve smiled. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen his face.
***
You don’t hear them cry for you. You don’t hear them speak for you. You don’t hear the stories, the reminiscing. You don’t know when they put a flower over you. You don’t know when they tell you not to worry, they’ll be back. You don’t know when they do come back. Every weekend, but you don’t know. All you know is that you are so tired, and you sleep. You sleep, and you sleep, and you sleep.
***
It takes a long time for the other members to move on. Kangin feels responsible, but all the other members allow him to believe that he’s not. Heechul has stopped throwing things when he thinks no one is listening. Donghae doesn’t cry as much at night. It takes them a while, but slowly they move on.
But they never forget. They never forget to say for leader-ssi, because we love you.
***
started: 11.11.08
finished: 11.12.08
why are my kangteuks always angsty? TT_____TT
Fandom: Super Junior
Pairing: KangTeuk
Word Count: 1501
Rating: PG
Summary: Eeteuk gets a call that shatters his world.
Genre: Angst
A/N: So I had this idea a long time ago during one of my routine check-ups when i was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. I wrote some of it on my phone, but that was when i was first writing fanfics, so the first draft was awful and repetitive. I never actually finished it, I just added bits here and there when i was writing it. But since im on another fanfic spree, inspired by some good fics ive read in here, I wrote it in a completely different style than what it once was. I'm considering making a version 2 though, because with this style i cant add in all the imagery i want, so ill think about writing it a different way. Maybe from another POV? idek.
and im sorry for the ending. well, im sorry for the whole fic. im sorry TT____TT
There’s another accident.
You get the call before it’s plastered all over the evening news, pictures and video of tires screeching, twisted metal and a dust of broken glass sprinkled over everything like a crystal powder, making the scene beautiful and bright, coated and glittering in the sparkles of red. It would be beautiful, you think, if it didn’t reek of gasoline and iron and something else, something sharp and stale. The smell of blood. You get the call, a hushed voice pushing down panic, and the little black box in your psyche opens up again and you reel into the memories of pain and the asphyxiation that comes with the crushing fear of loss. You pull yourself together enough to hear the important parts. There were four people in the car, but only one of them was yours.
Your hands are white on the wheel and you’re in danger of crashing too. You fly past dark patches of ice. Death traps. His trap.
You get to the hospital, and it’s still dark. It’s quiet as death, and you think how wrong it feels, because that’s not what should live in the sterile white walls. You’re disheveled, you didn’t even have time to grab a coat, but you didn’t feel the cold on your skin as you drove. You only felt the cold in your blood as you remembered. As you prayed.
When you find out the blood wasn’t his, belonging instead to one of the many people doting on you every day, you don’t feel relief. Just because blood is still in the veins doesn’t mean life is too.
You hurry upstairs, frantic, bare feet pounding on the steps, and the stairwell echoes, loud and jarring against the still air. When you burst into the room, everything is all right again the moment you see him, sitting there, staring at the floor. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, and nothing seems to be wrong. Everything seems to be all right. You can breathe again.
It only takes a moment for your world to shatter.
It happens as he lifts his head and looks at you, questions in his eyes, and there is no warmth. Only confusion.
He looks so lost.
You kneel at his feet, your hand resting on his knee, as you laugh quietly. “What do you mean, you don’t remember? I’m Eeteuk. Teukie, remember?”
He looks so lost.
“It’s me. Jungsoo. …Kangin, please.”
He looks so lost.
“…Kangin?”
No. It’s not Kangin. Whatever it is, it’s empty. You imagine if you shook him, he would rattle. What matters most is gone. What’s inside.
What if it doesn’t come back?
He tells you he doesn’t remember. You don’t believe him. You can’t believe him. If you believed what he was telling you, it would mean everything was lost. Everything.
It isn’t long until you snatch his hand, clutching it to your chest as he gives a half-hearted tug back, a reflex of panic. You grip it to you, holding on for dear life, holding on for your life, for his life, for your life together. He’s stopped looking at you with those eyes full of questions, and it’s worse than if he didn’t. You twist your face, moving it to catch his gaze, and he turns away every time. He’s scared. You’re scaring him. Stop it, you say. You’re scaring him.
He doesn’t kiss the same. Perhaps its because he feels a stranger pressing his lips to his own, desperately, frantically, passionately, messy in abandonment. You’re not a stranger. He has to remember. You try and show him, but he pulls away, and this time he’s not lost, and he’s not scared, he’s hurt. He knows he’s hurting you, and he doesn’t know why. And when Kangin used to hurt you, he would hurt too. So maybe…
You hope against hope that maybe he’s somewhere inside, that maybe he’s still the same.
“Please…I’m sorry, I…I don’t understand.”
But it’s not. He doesn’t remember.
You don’t realize you’re screaming at him until people come running. You don’t realize you’re clawing at his shirt, digging in desperately, until hands are trying to tear you away. You don’t realize you’re crying until he’s crying too, out of fright and sadness and helplessness.
The other members are there, fingers wrapping around your arms and your wrists, tugging and pulling, and you want to resist but they’re so strong. They’re trying to take you away. You can barely process it, and you want to ask why. Why take me away? We were always together. You can’t do this. But they do. You want to hold on to the boy in front of you, even though you’re hurting him too. You need to hold on.
You can feel your fingers loosening, the thin material slipping from them, and you scream louder.
NO! PLEASE! HE HAS TO REMEMBER! HE HAS TO REMEMBER! NO!
It’s a chant that fills the room, shrill and piercing in your panic. You stretch out your hand to him. Help me. He doesn’t. He recoils. You’re trembling as they drag you, screaming, from the room. The last thing you see of him is him trembling too, a bloody scratch on his face.
PLEASE! HE HAS TO REMEMBER! NO!
It fills the white, sterile halls. It’s no longer quiet as death.
KANGIN!
When he hears the last screech of his name, he turns over on his bed and cries. By then, you’re already gone.
***
After that, you don’t get up again. You lay in bed, and all you can see is the off-white white wall of your room, all you can feel in your arms are your knees, tucked up tightly, to where you feel safe. You don’t see when the other members come in the room, to sit by you. You don’t hear when they talk to you, either. They’ve set up a sort of watch, day and night, one of them is always with you. Some more than others.
When Kangin moves back into the house for his therapy, he doesn’t come see you.
The members haven’t stopped trying to feed you, even though it’s useless. Your mouth and your ears and your heart are shut, and your eyes are open, unblinking, staring, always awake but never there. Never eating, never sleeping. Just holding on.
***
It takes a week. Donghae is by your bed, having given Heechul the night off. Heechul never wants to leave you. Heechul watches most of the time, but Heechul needs to sleep too. After tonight, Heechul will never forgive himself.
Donghae can’t hear you the first time you try. You slide your tongue out, dampening your lips with the little saliva you have left, and you try again.
“Donghae.”
In an instant he is kneeling by your bed, hand interlacing with your own, limp by your side. Your eyes flutter in an attempt to blink after so long. Your vision is still fuzzy, your throat still dry.
“Donghae.”
“I’m here.”
Your lips tremble as you fight the urge to cry.
“I’m so tired. So tired.” The last echo is just a breath, a whisper.
Donghae looks at you, and you finally see him. You can see the sadness in his eyes. If you dig deep enough, you can see the understanding, too. He knows. Always the perceptive one.
“I…I’m so…tired.” Tired of fighting. Tired of hoping. Tired of holding on. Tired.
Long fingers thread slowly through your soft brown hair, gently, lovingly, as you shake ever so slightly. His voice is soft, warm. Understanding.
“I know, Teukie, I know. It’s okay.”
Your eyes flicker. You want to say so much, but you can’t.
“It’s okay. I know.”
And you believe him. You allow yourself, because something tells you he really does know. You close your eyes and let out the breath you’ve been holding for oh so long.
When you finally dream about him, you smile in your sleep. It’s been a long time since you’ve smiled. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen his face.
***
You don’t hear them cry for you. You don’t hear them speak for you. You don’t hear the stories, the reminiscing. You don’t know when they put a flower over you. You don’t know when they tell you not to worry, they’ll be back. You don’t know when they do come back. Every weekend, but you don’t know. All you know is that you are so tired, and you sleep. You sleep, and you sleep, and you sleep.
***
It takes a long time for the other members to move on. Kangin feels responsible, but all the other members allow him to believe that he’s not. Heechul has stopped throwing things when he thinks no one is listening. Donghae doesn’t cry as much at night. It takes them a while, but slowly they move on.
But they never forget. They never forget to say for leader-ssi, because we love you.
***
started: 11.11.08
finished: 11.12.08
why are my kangteuks always angsty? TT_____TT