Bipolar -- Chapter 17
Donghae sat broodingly inside his studio, plucking nonsensical chords on his guitar as he stared aimlessly at a wall. He’d been sitting for awhile, not speaking to anyone or doing anything, and it was odd. Because Donghae was an active person-a creative man of music and words. He never just sat still.
The admission of this, by itself, was already worrying his manager (and friend) who sat across from him at the other side of the room.
“Donghae, man, are you alright?” Kibum said tentatively, unsure of how to phrase the question without triggering an unreasonable response. Donghae was known to have unusual reactions to some things. No matter how happy-go-lucky he always seemed to be in the public eye, his more private side was another story all together. Kibum, himself, could attest to witnessing the 180-degree change in the past years he’d known his friend. Jessica (he thought sadly) would too.
“Yeah, just peachy keen,” was Donghae’s more than usually sarcastic retort. The tone in which he spoke the words sprayed ice along Kibum’s veins. He watched, cautious and alert, as his friend stood up and paced the room. His fists clenched at his sides as he seemed to wage an internal debate in his head.
Kibum knew that it is never a good sign when Donghae got quiet about things. He is carefree in everything but the matters of the heart. And if the pacing was any indication of Donghae’s troubles, then Kibum knew he had to steer his head clear of them as soon as possible.
He’d stood aside before when things got horrible for Jessica and Kibum had blamed himself ever since. He didn’t want his friend to suffer… but he wasn’t willing to let him get away with hurting another this time either.
Taking a deep breath, Kibum stepped beside Donghae’s frame. He shoved his hands deep into his pants’ pockets, unwilling to lay a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and waited patiently as his friend continued to stare on to into blank space. The musical notes died a few moments ago but Donghae’s hands were still on the strings-gripping hard on two in between his index finger and thumb.
With his jaw set in a hard line, Donghae blinked and cursed under his breath, tossing the guitar across the room with a bang. Kibum almost jumped at the sound of the instrument’s impact onto the floor, alarmed that Donghae would do such a thing to an object he valued more than most people.
It became all too clear to Kibum that whatever it was bothering his friend wasn’t something he should consider to ask lightly.
“Wanna talk about it?” He asked, pulling up a chair and sitting on it. Kibum watched as Donghae considered him for a long moment before heaving a sigh and shrugging.
A shrug was a good sign. It had to be.
“It’s this girl I’ve been seeing. I don’t think she’s being faithful to me.” Donghae started, slumping back against his seat. Kibum regarded his statement with a raised eyebrow and he felt compelled to explain himself further. “Granted we’ve only been going out for less than a month but still… shouldn’t that mean something?”
“Longevity doesn’t necessarily mean the same to everyone.” Kibum replied diplomatically. He knew about Yoona, of course. He knew about how interested Donghae was about her for weeks before they’d started dating. There were sheets of music recalling unrequited love and love-at-first-sight to prove his friend’s amorous attentions but he hadn’t considered any of them to have any real depth.
Save for the last one Donghae had composed-a song crooning about a love that probably wasn’t to be-that had been the only tune his friend had written that had a semblance of real emotion.
But that was before he had sprung the news of his new relationship with the elusive angel of his dreams.
Kibum wouldn’t really know the significance since he hadn’t met Yoona yet. But even he had a gut feeling that it was probably wasn’t what Donghae hoped it would be. Not if he was already reeling in his emotions, tormented under his skin.
“I just really-” Donghae stopped short of what he was supposed to say, his tone holding less of the edge it had earlier. This time it sounded less crazed, more defeated-but overall still there. As though in hind sight Donghae knew that he was probably kidding himself in the long run. Kibum couldn’t be sure if this was a good thing or not.
To be frank, neither did Donghae.
“Yoona is a mystery to me,” He started, pausing for a moment to take a seat on the windowsill before continuing. His eyes glazed as though his gaze was directed towards something far, far away. “In the past month we’ve been together, I have spent less time with her than I ever did with Jessica when we were falling out. When I’m with her, I feel out of control-as if I can’t get enough of her around but when I’m away, that feeling also fades. And it drives me crazy because I know I want her…”
The end of Donghae’s sentence was easy to guess and Kibum did so without hesitation. “But you don’t really love her,” he said simply, watching his friend’s jaw lock in tension while his eyes show a clear sense of shame. Kibum didn’t want to wonder what that look could mean but it told him that it wasn’t something he would want to be privy of and let it go. He would have to find out elsewhere, if he were to ever truly help his friend but for now he was willing to overlook it for now.
After all, he’d been a witness to this once before. There were necessary precautions to consider, and one wrong step could push Donghae into a tailspin. That wasn’t what either of them wanted and Kibum was going to make sure that would never happen again.
“You’ve really gone off base with this girl and you’re not even sure of what you really feel for her,” he added. He tried his best to appear nonchalant as Donghae listened to what he was saying. “I mean, how could you love someone you don’t even know?”
“Sometimes you can,” were Donghae’s defensive reply.
Kibum shook his head. “That’s a fool’s way of thinking. You and I both know a true connection is needed in love. Could you honestly say you can feel it with a stranger?” He waited a beat and when Donghae didn’t reply, he spurred on, “I didn’t think so.”
Donghae’s fists clenched at his sides, jaw locked once again as he considered his next words. His tone was hollow once he finally spoke again, flat and unfeeling; his posture rigid as he turned towards his friend in controlled fury. Kibum had to step back-just a little bit-to feel safe, gulping inaudibly and pursing his lips. Donghae’s stance was eerily familiar and it worried him greatly. He would have to find a way to speak to Yoona soon. It couldn’t be good for her or anyone, knowing what he knew could come next with Donghae’s statement sending a cold shiver down his spine.
The words were made in quiet violence. A warning.
“But she’s mine. Only mine.”
Her lungs burned in her chest as she rushed through a dark alleyway.
She felt like she’d been running for hours, wheezing through corners only to find herself right where she began. Stuck in a seemingly endless loop of silence and dark, she fell to her knees and let out a choked sob. Her tears flowing freely down her cheeks, wet and sticky on her hands. A distinct taste met her lips and her whole body stilled. Pulling her hands back slowly from her face, she found her stomach dropping at the sight of red on her hands.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, her mind screamed. Her limbs shaking as she threw her hands behind her and scrambled away from the sudden appearance of a limp body nestled near her feet. Oh God, please no, please oh God, oh God…
The body in front of her was still as stone, dressed immaculately in lace and silk. She recognized the cut of the dress, remembered how it used to flow with the rustle of the wind. Her heart pinched as the memory assaulted her and she found herself inching a hand towards the corpse. It was shockingly warm to the touch and as blood seeped into the dress’s fabric, she felt even more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, a whimper in the abyss. The shadows were caving in on her slowly, its silence ringing in her ears. But then-
“It’s alright,” the body spoke and all of her tears abruptly stopped. Oxygen left her lungs as she tried to scramble back and away, only to find herself rooted to the ground. The corpse turned slowly, joints cracking as kind, bloodshot eyes looked straight. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t-“I forgive you, Miyoung”-
“Tiffany! Tiffany, open your eyes!”
Tiffany gasped as her eyes opened, her heart still thrumming wildly in her chest as her nightmare receded. She was momentarily confused, still terrified of what she had witnessed and flailed in resistance when hands touched her shoulders. Her name was repeated in a placating manner, spoken soft as though to help alleviate her fear-which it did, surprisingly. She took a few deep breaths and blinked her eyes wide open again, settling her gaze to warm eyes that belonged to her companion.
It had been exactly two months since Yunho had come to frighten her. Two months since nightmares began to plague her every time she closed her eyes. Darkness, silence and blood being her nightmares’ most prominent elements, swallowing her whole until she woke drenched in sweat and screaming. The most recent addition of a body at her feet was the most terrifying yet and it was only her luck that it would come to her in the middle of a movie date.
“Are you alright?” Siwon asked, brushing back sweat drenched tendrils of hair off her face as she continued to breathe deeply in and out. He’d been worried when she began to whimper and cry in her sleep, progressively becoming terrified when her body stayed rigid as her sobs began to come louder.
Siwon had offered his apartment for a dinner and a movie, to which she accepted with great enthusiasm. They were good together. He made time for her in between his busy schedules, dropping her to and off at the school she taught at, while she made him lunch and showered him with affection. They fell into a rhythm that felt right to them.
It was good. It was easy.
Tiffany hadn’t had good and easy since…
She exhaled slowly, leaning into the warmth of Siwon’s hand on her cheek. She felt safe in his touch. Wanted.
She hadn’t felt any of that in a long time either.
“Did I ruin the movie?” Tiffany asked, turning towards the screen-only to find it already blank. “Shit. I missed half, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to say sorry.” Siwon said, shaking his head as he turned on his side to face her better on the couch. The expression on his face was a mix of worry and curiosity. No doubt in wonder of what had frightened her so much in her sleep. “Would you like some water or something?” He asked, already turning back to reach over towards the table where a pitcher was. He gestured towards her untouched glass. “It might make you feel better…”
“Yes, please,” Tiffany replied, taking the glass readily from his hands once he finished filling it. She drank the whole glass in one shot, gulping the liquid down as though her life depended on it before setting it down roughly. The glass banged on the table and her features pinched at the sound. She looked nauseous for a moment, steeling herself for what exactly he wasn’t too sure but he resolved to wait her out. He’d noticed how weary she’d been looking since they started dating-and though she assured him that it had nothing to do with him, it didn’t stop him from worrying.
Siwon had never felt this strongly for someone in all his life. He had come close years ago (“I’m my own master, Choi.”-“You know I love you, right?”) and he wasn’t about to make the mistake in letting a second chance slip by him again.
Cautiously, Siwon reached out and took her hand in his. His fingers interlacing between hers before squeezing them together; it was his way of quietly communicating to her that he was there and that he wasn’t going anywhere. That she could trust him with whatever it was that was bothering her…
And Tiffany understood him perfectly. The corner of her lips quirking up in appreciation even as tears began to pool at her eyes. She took a deep breath.
“I had a nightmare…”
Siwon’s eyes bore into hers softly. Undemanding. She liked that. “Yeah, I figured. Has it been happening a lot lately?”
“Yeah, it has. Usually I don’t remember my dreams when I wake up but these ones are… more like memories.” Tiffany said slowly, trying to organize her words in a way that made them sound less threatening than they actually were to her personally. And when Siwon didn’t interrupt her, she barreled on, her tone much softer than she wanted it to be. “I… had a tough life, back in America. My parents didn’t really care much for me when I was there and when things went to shit… they let me take my trust fund out in cash and completely left me to my own devices.”
“I’m sorry…”
Tiffany shook her head, stopping him from saying anything more with her index finger on his lips. “No, don’t apologize for them. Don’t feel bad for me. It’s not ideal but it’s something I’ve accepted since I was a child. People think that having lived in a foreign country makes you entitled, but everything is the same regardless of where you go. You’ll still meet people who can help you or use you. And money still makes the world go round. If you don’t work hard enough and know how to take care of yourself, you won’t survive anywhere in the world. Dog eat dog, that sort of thing.”
Siwon agreed with her words but couldn’t find the connection of them to her present problem. Memories for nightmares? What exactly does that mean?
“So… your nightmares were about your parents?”
She shook her head again. Her eyes looked like they were withdrawing bit by bit as the seconds passed. “My nightmares are about something else…”
“Something bad?”
She shrugged, looking absolutely resigned. “I wish it were that easy but no… it’s not just bad. It’s…”
“It’s what?”
Worse, she thought but kept her lips pressed together. The word was implied regardless if she responded or not anyway, and Siwon was smart. She knew he would understand…
Tiffany looked at him blankly for a whole minute before leaning forward to tuck her body against him. His arm immediately pulled her closer as their bodies fit together on the limited space the couch provided for them. The scent of her hair-fresh and lemony-wafted towards his nose and he inhaled deeply, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.
“I want to help you.”
She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck. “Thanks…”
“But I need to know what you-”
“I wasn’t asking, Siwon.”
Her tone was sharp now. It didn’t offer any of Tiffany’s gentle nature. Instead it was stern-practically cutting. Siwon looked at her in surprise and it was that expression that face that made her pause, retrace her steps and soften once again. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears as she spoke, voice wavering slightly.
“I just need you to hold me, Siwon… just that. You don’t need to do anything else.”
Though still shock, he decided to settle her into his chest again. Siwon let her take this one for now. He’d have to find a way to get her the help she needed. Whatever it was that was scaring her in her nightmares, whatever memory it was that had her scarred, he was determined to find out.
For now though if this was exactly what she needed at the moment, it wasn’t in him to deny her. Especially not when she felt so good (so right) in his arms.
Siwon placed another soft kiss on her forehead, breathing her in. “Okay.”
“That’s 10,500won for the pack of cigarettes.” The person behind the store counter is too young in his opinion, barely through high school for sure but he doesn’t say a word about it. He handed over the money nonchalantly, already tearing through the pack as the cashier rang up his purchase.
He didn’t used to smoke-when he lived here still a decade ago-but he managed to pick up the habit through his fraternity brothers. But as he breathed and exhaled the smoke from his lungs, he wondered why he’d let himself for into such a vice. His mother would have said it wasn’t like him to fall prey to sin; she would say he was just, loyal, good.
He smirked at the thought. He wasn’t good. Not since ever.
He settled on a bench in front of a towering building, blowing smoke into the air as people strutted busily past him. The building was polished, clearly maintained and powered by a number of people flitting in and out. It looked to be one of those hoity-toity apartment spaces and a popular one at that, he thought and taking in the plush surroundings, the heavy-bodied doormen and gold-revolving doors.
He used to live at a building like this, but he’d been away from it for so long, he doesn’t remember much about it anymore. He thought he might have been good at his job because he remembered how spacious his rooms used to be. He had a room for everything at his apartment. Enough space perfect for a small family.
He breathed the smoke into his lungs and let it burn there for a moment before exhaling. He kind of missed his past. He kind of missed remembering better times than this.
Honestly, it took him awhile to adjust. Three weeks into his hunt, he found himself staring at his rented room’s dingy ceiling and sleeping very little. He didn’t liken to the quiet of the streets and the dim lighting of street lamps as he walked (searched) aimlessly. He didn’t like the easy smiles of late-night street vendors. He’d been away for far too long, away from his homeland’s soil that everything in it had become foreign to him.
When he was young, he never thought he’d forget ever about his life in Seoul. He never thought he’d forget the sights, smells and sounds-his family or the friends’ he had left behind… but eventually he did.
That was what life in America did to him. It made him forget.
The only thing he had left here now was pain and anger. Hate. Revenge.
And as he watched an elegant women step out of a car and enter the building, he thought it would be nice to start over after justice was served and everything (finally) settles in his life. Perhaps, he could even move on and have the family he’d hoped to have before-
He shook his head, stopping that trail of thought before it festered in his brain. “First things first,” he reminded himself, flicking the cigarette at an innocent passerby before standing up to leave. He’d be back a little later-when the streets empty.
The justice he intended would start sooner now than later. His patience had already run out.
She was still so impeccably dressed when she arrived at his door, coiffed and poised in a way that still sent his blood boiling. The only ruffle in her attire was that three buttons from the front had been undone, revealing red lace pressed against her alabaster skin. That necklace of hers-the one he’d given to her for their first anniversary-glinted under the hallway lights, coaxing his eyes to follow the line of its chain up from her cleavage to the stone on the pendant, the sweet column of her throat, her lips, nose, and finally her eyes.
“I finally found your invitation. Thought I’d send my reply in person…”
Changmin felt his veins heat up as she took a step towards him, a palm up to touch the skin under his collar. Her touch burning a trail of need down South as he let her push him into taking a few steps into his apartment before grabbing that one hand into his while the other snaked up her back. His hand stopped at the nape of her neck, their breaths mingling.
“This is… insane.”
Yoona smiled, leaning in close just as the hand on her nape pushed. Their lips touching just so, sparking the heat in between to intensify into a fever pitch.
They stumbled across the room, peeling layers back as they go. Revealing themselves to each other without remorse, or pain, or anger… This was wrong, both of them knew it, but it was something they needed. Like oxygen. Like life.
This is insane. She agreed. “I know.”