500x31, 1/2
Title: 500x31
Fandom: Super Junior
Pairing: Sungmin/Ryeowook, Kyuhyun/Ryeowook
Prompts
This is the longest fucker I've written. Not the best possibly the worst, but have fun reading this train wreck. :3
When Ryeowook woke up that morning and saw a rhododendron sprouting out of his shoulder, he knew he was going to die.
The disease started simply enough. First, he would grow a couple of flowers in different places of his body -- the small of his back, the inside of his wrist. Then, leaves. They were easy to pluck out, easy to cover up. Denying it was the hardest part, in the first seven days. Afterwards, there was only resignation to look forward to, or desperation, if it fit the moment.
Ryeowook was never a desperate man, no. Not so much, not even after he'd started living with Sungmin.
"If you didn't want them to grow back, you shouldn't drink any water, or even take a bath," Sungmin told him, narrating the morning's news report with some seriousness in spite of how comically he looked in his nightgown, the one he’d gotten from his cousin as a joke but took to with surprising ease, much to Ryeowook’s mortification, "if you drank anyway, they'd multiply so quickly you'd get crushed under their weight."
Here Sungmin paused to take a bite out of his pancakes, a little burnt from Ryeowook's incapacity to watch the show without forgetting about breakfast. Ryeowook's fingers tightened around his glass of orange juice, before he set it back down on the table, as if considering something. When it became apparent that Ryeowook wasn't going to answer, Sungmin continued to speak. "Either way, you'd die. The only cure you'd even have would be to ingest the last flower that comes out of an infected person, and what are the odds of that, right?"
“That’s gross,” Ryeowook said, touching the rim of his glass, absent of the desire to drink, “you mean you’d have to eat a dead person’s flower?”
“When you put it like that,” Sungmin said, laughing, “I wouldn’t mind it so much, if it were yours.” His eyes brightened with barely concealed suggestiveness. It made Ryeowook’s mind hurt.
You’re a pervert, what will your mother say, Ryeowook meant to ask, but instead he pushed his glass towards Sungmin, shaking his head. "I'm glad it hasn't infected us," Ryeowook said, the words sounding hollow and tasteless in his ears, "I wouldn't know what to do if it happened to you."
Ryeowook pressed shaking fingers to Sungmin's cheek, and kissed the top of his forehead as he cleared the table. Sungmin looked at him, curiously.
"I'd smell nice, wouldn't I?" Sungmin said, smiling widely, and Ryeowook swallowed the nervousness in his throat, the desperation slowly blossoming in his chest. He wanted to get out, to feel the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair, anywhere else where he wouldn't have to hide from Sungmin's smile. Smaller scars healed for much longer, and smaller plants thrived under less significant warmth. That was just the way things worked in Ryeowook's life; quietly, and without so much importance.
"You already do," Ryeowook said, and pretended everything was still fine.
Holly, next. Ryeowook stared at the flower with its stem curling around his ring finger with distrust before yanking it off and flushing it down the toilet, as if blaming it for all of his troubles, past, present, and future.
He felt bad about it, afterwards, when the toilet stopped flushing, but it was only momentary, of course.
He spent the rest of the morning disinfecting his hand with alcohol, as if to get rid of the offending smell of flowers from his skin. When Sungmin covered him with small, affectionate kisses and wondered aloud if he were indulging in bath products, Ryeowook had to suppress the urge to push him away, preferably off the balcony of their apartment. Sungmin had kissed him like that when they first met, too, at a party of a mutual friend’s, and Sungmin had been drunk and lonely and Ryeowook was the only one who could hold his alcohol well, at the time.
They were younger, then, fresh out of college and without direction in their lives. Things were simpler when all he had to worry about was fighting off Sungmin's advances while weaseling his way out of helping with cleaning up Kibum's (trashed) apartment, when all he had to think about was Sungmin's smile, toothy and still feral, all the same, as he pushed Ryeowook onto the nearest available surface and mouthed small words of infatuation into the hollow of Ryeowook's neck, the sharp curve of his jaw. Love was never an option, then. "You're too tense," Sungmin had slurred, voice low and husky.
No, you're too drunk, Ryeowook wanted to say, but it was useless with Sungmin pressing kisses along the swell of his cheek, close to the curve of his mouth, kisses that tasted like sparkling wine and candy for smoking withdrawals. Even then, the knowledge of it felt acidic in his mouth, like knowing a secret he had never meant to share, or finding out more than the outward things he'd known about Sungmin, the things beyond his lazy grin or his hooded eyes or the voice he'd used for older women, beautiful girls. It had felt like another world, dancing in Ryeowook's palm, over and under and hoping to maybe get in between, just for some warmth.
He had smelled like another woman's, then. Ryeowook had figured as much.
"What's your name?" Sungmin had asked, only Ryeowook didn't remember if he had given it, then, or if Kibum took that timely opportunity to barge in and yell at Ryeowook for skipping out on him and oh my god, what the hell man?
In retrospect, it could have been worse.
It could have been better, too, but Ryeowook was never one to take anything beyond face value.
"What are you thinking about?" Sungmin asked, threading fingers through his hair, and Ryeowook leaned into his touch, pursing his lips.
"I wonder how Kibum's doing," Ryeowook said, and Sungmin laughed, something short and quiet and wonderful it made Ryeowook want to smile.
The thing Sungmin (and everyone else) had to realize the first year he had entered into a relationship with Ryeowook was that Ryeowook hid things well, until the inevitable moment that the dam would break. He concealed things so well, in fact, that it took Sungmin five days before he realized what was going on, and it was only through five minutes of holy shit are these thorns on the bed sheets that Ryeowook finally considered that there was no point in hiding anything when he didn't know what to prepare for.
"Ryeowook," Sungmin said, somberly, all the usual good humor and cheer replaced by a sharper edge in his voice, a visible rush of surprise and disappointment still present in his open expression, and Ryeowook shut his eyes and turned to go out, to clear his head, to stall the expected questions, anything to avoid Sungmin's consoling words, his sympathetic touch, the pity in his smile.
Ryeowook still had his pride, if nothing else.
Not that Sungmin himself didn't take to hiding things, Ryeowook thought glumly. There were always a lot of things everyone else knew before he did, moments he never shared with Sungmin that he would only hear of months afterwards. When it all came down to who knew more about the other, well, Ryeowook would be the only loser, in the end.
He spent the rest of the day window shopping. A present for a friend, he'd told the saleslady at Sungmin's favorite clothing store (or was it really the favorite? Ryeowook had more reason to doubt it himself, now) while fiddling with the white newsboy cap, only to put it on his head two hours later when he'd touched his hair and felt leaves sprouting out of his head without even a stem to warn him of its presence. He'd tried brushing it off, but it got tiring after the first five times it started to grow back. He'd seen the open, wondering stares the other people gave him, and it was enough to keep him walking to anywhere else where there wasn't a single soul to ask questions, to pretend to feel sad for him.
It's Seoul. That kind of place never existed, so there was only home to return to, and nowhere else.
Ryeowook pushed the door open cautiously and found Sungmin waiting on the couch, looking like the loneliest boy in the world. For a while Ryeowook thought of getting angry, of hurling bitter imprecations at him for pretending he had a right to know, but even then the words he'd formed in his mind were meaningless pieces of his insecurity, things Sungmin never deserved.
"Are you angry?" Ryeowook said, resting his head on Sungmin's shoulder, palm rubbing soothing circles over Sungmin's elbow, where the thorns had pricked him, and Sungmin said yes even as he shook his head and bit back the trepidation rising in his gut.
Whoever said tragedies needed to have a purpose? There's only fear, if nothing else.
Forgiveness had a lesser weight than this. Rather than anything else, it could probably be called avoidance. Ryeowook was a master at it, but sometimes Sungmin was better, when he chose the less confrontational route.
Sungmin cooked dinner for them, that night. Ryeowook watched him from the dining table, pretending he wasn’t looking when Sungmin approached him with a bowl in his hand and a smile fixed in place, almost as if to coax a wild animal. Resentment wasn’t a good look on Ryeowook, so he decided to pout, instead, because it seemed safer, and it disarmed Sungmin, to an extent.
Sungmin’s fingers smelled like uncooked shrimp, fresh from the freezer. "I'm not touching that," Ryeowook announced, shoving the bowl away from himself, and Sungmin laughed, obligingly picking up a piece and peeling it in a haphazard fashion.
"Hey," Sungmin said, taking the tail of the shrimp in between his thumb and his index finger, "do you want to go somewhere, just the two of us?"
"No," Ryeowook said, after a long, measured moment, and snap went the skin, digging into Sungmin's finger until it drew blood.
"Why not?" Sungmin asked, sounding wounded. He looked almost petulant as he rinsed his hand in the kitchen sink.
Why not indeed, Ryeowook wondered. There were many reasons to explore, only Ryeowook had yet to touch on them. Thinking deeply was part of the routine, now, only reality had yet to sink in. There was always room for a healthy dose of denial, but, in Ryeowook’s case, he was already past that.
First, Ryeowook had to quell the relative ease that anger had to offer him. Second, he could claim that he never believed in fulfilling bucket lists that had no point whatsoever other than to afford him some fleeting chance at material happiness. Third, he didn’t trust Sungmin enough to believe that he wouldn’t do something as outrageous as, well, proposing to commit couple’s suicide somewhere else.
“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” Ryeowook said, and it surprised him how honestly it came out, how quickly the words seemed to settle into the air and seem like a confession tinged wholly with guilt and no disinterest, no distrust to lace with the blame. If you only knew, Ryeowook considered, as Sungmin buried his head in the small space between Ryeowook’s neck and shoulder, as if to realize some of Ryeowook’s impermanence in some sensual, physical assurance, all bones, no finesse, all awkward silences, and Ryeowook realized that Sungmin’s gentleness was probably leading up to this point.
It was a chilling thought to ingest. He wouldn’t forget about it even as Sungmin tucked the snapdragon behind his ear with a tentative touch of his fingers, a light brush of his lips against Ryeowook’s skin even as Ryeowook’s leg hooked around his waist and pulled him closer into the darkness.
Did he presume too much? No, Ryeowook thought, smiling up at Sungmin without meaning it, he could never be too careful.
He had his slip ups, he realized later, when Sungmin cheerfully pushed him into the car and took hold of the wheel. Just a small vacation, he'd told Ryeowook, but Ryeowook was starting to suspect that something was completely off in the way Sungmin's eyes didn't quite light up the way it usually did at the prospect of going on a trip.
"You're insane," Ryeowook said, brushing the petals off his shirt. Lavender, this time. He'd have to remember what it meant, later on.
"Don't you trust me?" Sungmin said, "and put your cap on, I'm opening the windows."
"I don't," Ryeowook said, tersely, "Kibum warned me about you, you know."
"Oh?" Fingers tapping on the wheel, considering. "What did he say?"
Ryeowook sunk lower into his seat, visibly turning red. "Nothing," he lied, but Sungmin didn't press further, and that was a good thing, in some ways.
What did Kibum tell him again? Something about Sungmin never being able to differentiate between a healthy dose of affection and a more obsessive form of adoration. "It just goes hand in hand with him," Kibum had said as he blew into a cup of instant coffee, "his last girlfriend said he was a bit of a stalker, and got irrationally jealous sometimes."
"That's insane," Ryeowook had laughed, then, "he's not like that at all."
Kibum had shrugged, and looked at his feet. "He doesn't look like it, but I think..."
Kibum never did tell him what he thought, and didn't say anything else even after Ryeowook started seeing Sungmin. It got lost in between months of small talk and little interaction, like all things do, given time and space and disinterest. Ryeowook had the sneaking suspicion that it had to do with Kibum's vague disapproval of Sungmin, but he wasn't one to pursue the thought. When the initial anger passed, Ryeowook had a tendency to let it lay dormant in his mind, before he would pick it up again after getting tired of sitting back and letting things flow without his involvement.
"Are you thinking again?" Sungmin interrupted, just as Ryeowook's head swayed dangerously to the direction of the window, "you know you fall asleep when you start thinking. And are you wearing a belt? I think your shorts are falling down."
Ryeowook sat up, self-consciously tugging the hem of his shirt downwards. "You're supposed to be paying more attention to the road," Ryeowook said, "I don't think my mom would want to see a news flash about us being involved in a traffic accident."
"I only answer to destiny," Sungmin said, "wait, that sounds like a good song."
"Or a line from a movie," Ryeowook said, fondly, and if Sungmin weren't driving, Ryeowook would have reached over to hold his hand, pretending the lavender was potpourri and not the biggest living nightmare he'd ever had. No, not the biggest, but the most beautiful, perhaps, more than Sungmin's imagined faults, or the nagging feeling of disassociation that persisted in Ryeowook's mind.
Ryeowook fell asleep an hour after Sungmin turned on the radio, the quiet lull of Yiruma's music floating into his consciousness and out of it without much disturbance. He registered Sungmin's soft, concerned inquiry about the anemones that protruded out of his sleeve, the stems curling around his elbow, petals whiter than his skin, but he only mumbled an unsurprised "oh" and crossed his arms over his chest, as if to cradle it closer to himself.
The distance between Seoul and Busan was about 330 kilometers, more or less. Sungmin had muttered something about visiting a cousin of his, Kyuhyun, or something like it, and Ryeowook had made a vague noise of assent as Sungmin rattled off his childhood stories without needing encouragement from Ryeowook; not that Ryeowook wasn't a good listener. In all honesty, far from actually being a good listener, Ryeowook was good at pretending he was one, and Sungmin, for his part, acknowledged it but didn't press on. If he talked and Ryeowook was there to hear him, it was good. If he talked and Ryeowook had fallen asleep, that was alright, too. When he didn't talk, the only thing Sungmin seemed to do was think, and sometimes Ryeowook felt that was dangerous, because there was always something off about Sungmin when he started to withdraw into himself, almost as if something darker crept beneath the surface.
He used to write about sad things a lot, before he'd lost the time to write anything. Ryeowook didn't know what to say to him, when he was like that, because all Ryeowook ever wrote to anyone were happy things, small hearts, consoling messages that might have been more for formality's sake or politeness than genuine affection. Sometimes, it was difficult to figure out which of them was wrong, which of them was more real than the other, if reality had anything to do with it.
When he woke up, they were in Daegu, still in the Gyeongbu Highway. Yiruma had been replaced by an upbeat American popstar whose lyrics Ryeowook couldn't decipher what with his limited grasp of the english language. It didn't matter, he supposed. He was never one to find significance in the meaning of songs, anyway, so it was of no consequence.
Ryeowook reached over to turn the radio off, and Sungmin shot him a passing glance. "Did you know that the human body is composed of 80% water?" Sungmin said, out of nowhere, and Ryeowook's lips thinned into a small, unconvinced smile.
"I didn't," Ryeowook said, "was that meant to be comforting? Because it really isn't, you know."
"Sorry," Sungmin said, without looking properly apologetic, and Ryeaowook ran his thumb over his wrist to distract himself from measuring the amount of water he should take in, if it was too much, if it was enough, if it even mattered anyway.
Sungmin always made it seem like it did.
Then again, Sungmin made everything seem like it mattered more than Ryeowook could ever think it did.
As Sungmin got out of the car and pushed the gates open, Ryeowook peered curiously at the expansive grounds, sprawling roots of trees visible even on the surface of the soil, arching and entwining with no visible or definite route. The grass was cut to perfection, and there were sweet pea bushes around the veranda. Cedar, perhaps. It looked expensive with its fine-grained, reddish color, but it seemed to fit in with the rest of the house.
The house was a small, one-story structure seated in the center of the surrounding foliage. It resembled a hanok, but Ryeowook wasn’t sure what to make of the Western touches, what with the glass windows and the gothic exterior lighting perched on both sides of the entrance, but the giwa bespoke of the considerable investment put in the residence.
“It’s my cousin’s,” Sungmin explained as he drove up the barely distinguishable driveway - little more than a long patch of soil devoid of grass but littered with a few small pebbles. Ryeowook nodded, still staring at the swing on the porch, cushioned and fitted with black cloth. When Sungmin stepped out of the car, Ryeowook followed, not registering the rest of Sungmin’s words about his cousin. He took small, unsure steps towards the front porch, letting his fingers brush against the sweet peas along the way, and stood in front of the door, pressing the doorbell without encouragement from Sungmin.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps from inside the house, as if expecting someone, and when the door opened, Ryeowook came face to face with a boy - no, a man, maybe - who looked younger than Ryeowook, only taller. He had an honest, open face, and his ready smile immediately turned into a confused frown when he saw Ryeowook.
"Who are you?" The man said, eyeing Ryeowook with distrust, and Ryeowook guiltily looked at the floor.
“Kyuhyun-ah,” Sungmin said, walking up to the two with their bags slung on his shoulders. Ryeowook felt a flash of irritation, suddenly, feeling useless at the sight, “help me out here, will you?”
“Hyung,” Kyuhyun said, coming forward to take Sungmin’s backpack, to which Sungmin acquiesced gratefully, “it’s good to see you again.”
“This is Ryeowookie,” Sungmin said, affectionately ruffling up Ryeowook’s hair. Ryeowook nodded shyly at Kyuhyun, and Kyuhyun gave him a grudging smile back, “I hope your fridge is stocked, I’m tired from driving.”
“Demanding,” Kyuhyun said, shaking his head and going back inside, and Sungmin laughed, not even protesting at his lack of manners.
"Let's go," Sungmin said, taking Ryeowook's hand in his, and Ryeowook bowed his head.
There was an acute awareness of self-consciousness in him, somewhere; Ryeowook almost felt like sparing him an apology, but that was dangerous, too.
What was it about kindness again...? The kindness of strangers, and dependence, or something like it, but Sungmin was hardly a stranger to Ryeowook. Kyuhyun, on the other hand…
Forget it, he thought, and didn’t look back as he shut the door behind him.
Dinner was an awkward affair. Sungmin had cooked, much to Ryeowook's surprise, and that left Ryeowook and Kyuhyun to their own devices while Sungmin busied himself in the kitchen. The smell of bulgogi wafted into the living room, but Ryeowook had no appetite for it. At least an hour's worth of tense silence resulted from Sungmin's absence, Kyuhyun being the type to keep strangers at bay, regardless of their connections to family members, and Ryeowook not feeling particularly fond of new people with personal grudges against his presence. The only sound that came from their lips were their yawns, and the rest of the hour was spent with their gazes fixed at the television, in Ryeowook's case, or at a PSP, in Kyuhyun's. Ryeowook managed to sneak a few looks at his companion, but they never lingered for too long, out of his own discomfort and his lack of enthusiasm in sparking confrontations. It was, all in all, an uneventful way to spend the evening.
Especially if you only had a few more days to live, Ryeowook thought with some bitterness, staring at his wrists as if willing his body to suppress any sudden signs of his condition. He wasn't sure he would be able to take Kyuhyun's pity, or his disgust. The worst case scenario would be that Kyuhyun would be indifferent to it all, and Ryeowook hated having to play the game of politeness. Ryeowook was itching to get out of here.
When they took their seats at the table, Ryeowook sat beside Sungmin and stared at the vase of sunflowers on the table while Sungmin and Kyuhyun exchanged stories. Sungmin, mostly. Ryeowook wasn't listening, not attentively, anyway, but he knew when to nod his head or when to laugh on cue, and if the laughter was weak and hollow, he could always blame it on fatigue. Sungmin started to talk about the last family trip they ever had at the lake a good fifteen minutes' walk away from the house when Kyuhyun finally participated and contested the actuality of the event.
"We were at the lake and you fell in it," Sungmin said.
"I did?" Kyuhyun said, eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah, you did," Sungmin said, "and I felt bad for joking about you deserving it because you never wanted to play with me. You were always holed up in your room with your gameboy," Sungmin's eyes turned to the PSP beside Kyuhyun's plate, and he laughed, "even now, that still hasn't changed."
"I don't remember that," Kyuhyun said, thoughtfully tapping the tip of his chopsticks to his lower lip, the blunt edge pressing into the soft skin. Ryeowook's eyes involuntarily followed the motion, only to look away moments later.
"It was a long time ago," Sungmin said. Kyuhyun frowned, still unconvinced.
"If you're sure..." Kyuhyun trailed off, turning back to his plate. The quick glance he'd given Ryeowook was enough to tell Ryeowook that Kyuhyun knew he was being watched, but he didn't bring it up, at least.
They passed the next few days like this: Ryeowook would wake up and make breakfast, and Kyuhyun would trail after him thirty minutes later. At first, Kyuhyun had protested, saying he was a guest, but Ryeowook could see that Kyuhyun was pleased at the chore lifted from his shoulders, and in all honesty, Ryeowook wanted to do it out of nothing better to do. They'd eat breakfast in silence until Sungmin would come down from his and Ryeowook's shared room, in spite of the numerous other beds available, but at least Kyuhyun didn't ask. There was always a vague suspicion in his eyes, and the question always hovered in the air when Kyuhyun and Ryeowook were together, but they weren't close enough just yet to start with the twenty questions.
Frankly, Ryeowook didn't want to get interrogated. There were lines he didn't want to cross just yet, especially after Kyuhyun had, embarrassingly enough, called him "Ryeowookie" and Ryeowook nearly dropped the dishes he was washing. He'd considered Kyuhyun as a quiet kind of boy, not daring enough but still giving off the air of impudence all the same, but still...
"Excuse me?" Ryeowook asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. Kyuhyun made it sound like how Sungmin said his name, but there was a difference in the warmth.
"Ryeowookie," Kyuhyun said, feet propped up on the edge of his seat, "isn't that your name?"
"It's Ryeowook," Ryeowook said, going back to rinsing. An honest mistake, given how Sungmin had introduced them, but it wasn't as if Kyuhyun were ignorant of the proper suffixes. He was Korean, for god's sake.
"Sorry about that," Kyuhyun said, not sounding sorry at all, "I was just asking if you wanted to go anywhere, later. With Sungmin-hyung."
Ryeowook shook his head. The drive from Seoul hadn't endeared him to traveling just yet, and he figured Kyuhyun would just feel burdened with the task of playing their host if he did agree. Kyuhyun shrugged, and turned back to his book -- an English novel, Ryeowook realized, suddenly feeling a surge of admiration explode in his chest -- before he started to hum a slow, sad love song about a girl who left her lover. It sounded like the kind of songs Sungmin liked to listen to. Ryeowook didn't know what to make of it.
This is a joke, Ryeowook thought, darkly, as he dried the dishes with a towelette, is he making fun of me?
But he knew it was only bitterness that was speaking. It wasn't Kyuhyun's fault if Ryeowook's mind persisted in finding similarities between Kyuhyun and Sungmin, narrowing in on tiny details that would have seemed insignificant if Ryeowook never professed, in secret, that he might have found Kyuhyun remotely interesting. The fact of the matter is, we gravitate towards the ones we can never really touch.
He found wisterias on his pillow, that night. Funny, how his body seemed to know his thoughts all too well. The irony wasn't lost to him.
By the sixth day since he'd found the sprig of holly, Ryeowook was beginning to feel antsy. He had no idea how long it took for the disease to reach maturity, but he knew the worst was yet to come. He'd heard of some cases when overgrown roses had managed to prick the patients to death, or stems that suffocated the patient in his sleep, but they were few and far. Death, at least, took some semblance of peace, for the most part, unlike a car crash.
He figured he had a few weeks left, but he was still looking for the resignation that often came by the end of the week. He hadn't found it yet. Some days he spent the entire afternoon with a pair of scissors (they were smaller than hedge clippers, he figured) and snipped the day away while thinking how much longer? He holed himself up in his room when the sun was at its brightest and stared at his fingers as if to command them to give him answers.
No such luck.
He wondered about how Kyuhyun and Sungmin fared during lunch. Sometimes he felt sorry for them, when he considered how useless he was as a guest, but he figured they'd need the space alone, together, without someone else.
Sungmin left him peonies, sometimes. He appreciated the gesture, but he found it rude, almost cruel, the way Sungmin's small tokens were presented. Beautiful, almost lavish blossoms wrapped in ribbons, and he probably never bothered to ask if they were from someone else's garden, or from someone else's body. Sometimes Ryeowook would cry when Sungmin kissed the back of his hand, worried at the skin until it bloomed red under his teeth, and Ryeowook had no time for this, no time to let him get under his skin, no time to deepen Sungmin's adoration to ensure the possibility of a future.
"Stop crying," Sungmin teased, knocking their heads together, "jeeze, you're such a crybaby."
"I'm not," Ryeowook sniffled, pressing his palms into his eyes in a vain effort to stop the tears from coming out. Sungmin sighed and picked up the scissors on the floor, placing them on the drawer with some difficulty as he maneuvered himself around Ryeowook without having to let go of his grip around Ryeowook's shoulders.
"Even Kyuhyun's worried now," Sungmin chided, "come on, you have to get out sometime. Stop moping, okay? I love you."
"He might see," Ryeowook said, shaking his head, and Sungmin smiled, fondly, and perhaps with not a little discomfort.
"I don't think Kyuhyun would care much, if he did," Sungmin said, truthfully, and Ryeowook looked up, eyes dry but still red.
Did you know that seemingly meaningless opinions can induce the worst kind of scenarios? If Sungmin did, Ryeowook would have called him the worst, but people in a state of irrationality rarely consider the validity of such statements. People who play the role of giving comfort have limited views as well.
Ryeowook nodded.
There were lilies in the bath tub. Ryeowook suffered from a mild case of paranoia and Sungmin had to calm him down for five minutes in the bathroom before Ryeowook could muster the will to step out into the hallway. Kyuhyun hovered outside the bathroom door, tentatively knocking and inquiring if Ryeowook was alright, and Sungmin sighed, telling him it was fine, everything was under control, which was a load of bullshit, as far as Ryeowook was concerned.
"It wasn't this bad before," Ryeowook whimpered as Sungmin dried his hair with a towel, "I never really had to deal with this many flowers falling off me without me noticing, I was sure I didn't leave any last night..."
"Are you even sure these are yours?" Sungmin said, consolingly, and Ryeowook turned to give him an icy glare. The fact that Ryeowook was still naked save for a towel around his waist kind of offset the effect, as Sungmin's eyes seemed to stray a little lower than necessary.
"Who else would it be?" Ryeowook said, and Sungmin just sighed and started to massage his shoulders to work out the tension in his back. Ryeowook missed the curious, calculating look on Sungmin's face.
"I'll tell you what," Sungmin said, still with a soft, coaxing voice, "after we get rid of the lillies, we'll drive to the city and walk around. You like shopping, don't you? Then we'll go to a movie, and we can laugh at Kim Heechul's acting, if you want. It'll be the same as being back in Incheon or Seoul, I promise."
"What would Incheon have to do with anything?" Ryeowook said, biting the inside of his cheek. He tried to let out the setdown he'd been itching to say to Sungmin the moment he set himself down on the edge of the bathtub and ordered Ryeowook to take a seat on the floor, but it wouldn't help matters if he lost the only ally he had at this point. His mother, he could probably count on to side with him, but he wasn't sure if she would take the news of her outliving her only son well.
"Wasn't that were you were born, Ryeowookie?" Sungmin laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "I never forget the things you tell me. I know everything about you."
Everything? It sounded like a lie, but Ryeowook could never tell, He'd said it so casually, and yet...
He'd have to ignore the nagging suspicion in his mind, for once. It wouldn't do them any good, not at this point when Sungmin was only being caring and Ryeowook was too cautious for his own good. How many months had it been since he'd kissed Sungmin, and even now he was still hyperaware of everything Sungmin said.
You have trust issues, kid, Sungmin had told him the first few weeks of their meeting, and Ryeowook had to admit that was true, to an extent.
"Okay," Ryeowook whispered, leaning against Sungmin, "okay."
True to his word, Sungmin had taken him out that afternoon. They spent the day walking around the shopping district, Ryeowook with his head covered under an unappealing, wide-brimmed sunhat that made him look like a kid struggling under its weight, and the ice cream Sungmin had bought them hadn't helped his image. When Sungmin took his hand and led him around the shops, he caught a peek at their reflection on one of the shop windows and decided that he looked less of a kid and more of an underweight teenage girl sulking on a date with her long-suffering boyfriend. It wasn't too far from the truth.
He'd worried about the sun, at first, but Sungmin kept his bare arms covered with sunblock, saying that it would stall the growth. He wondered how Sungmin knew about that, but these days, Sungmin seemed to know everything, now, and Ryeowook was the shut-in who had lost contact with civilization.
The closest thing to a mishap was the geranium that blossomed at his nape, but Sungmin had been behind him at that time, and saved him the embarrassment of the stares of strangers by discreetly passing his hand over Ryeowook's neck and plucking it out. He gave it to a saleslady he'd charmed into giving him a discount, after that, and it would have been amusing if Ryeowook hadn't been so nervous.
"You're so tense," Sungmin had sighed, smiling all the same, and Ryeowook went back to licking his ice cream as an excuse to not respond.
"Which reminds me," Sungmin continued as he inspected a rack of clothes, "you got a call from Yesung yesterday."
"Yesung?" Ryeowook said, surprised, "why?"
"I'd forgotten," Sungmin said, sounding too cheerful for his own good, "didn't you have a thing for him when we were in college?"
"Sungmin," Ryeowook admonished, "it wasn't like that. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't seem to matter, at that time," Sungmin said, airily, "it probably wasn't yesterday. Maybe a few days ago? A week, at most." Or a month. Yesung would probably be put off by this, and Ryeowook couldn't find it in himself to care, but he had to show some reaction to the liberties Sungmin took with his personal calls.
"Sungmin." There were volumes of disappointment in Ryeowook's tone by just saying his name. Sungmin looked vaguely remorseful, but Ryeowook finished the rest of his wafer cone and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Can you blame me?" Sungmin said, rolling his eyes, "we're on a trip and we're supposed to enjoy this, okay? I didn't want to give you another reason to mope."
It occured to Ryeowook that perhaps Sungmin was playing the guilt card to his advantage, but Ryeowook hadn't been the best companion in the world either.
"Sorry," Ryeowook said, letting his hands fall to his sides, "I'll try to enjoy myself, I promise."
"Good," Sungmin said, brightening up, "now get into the dressing room, I bet this will look good on you."
When they came back that evening, Sungmin had gone straight to bed, leaving their things in the hallway. Most of the bags weren't Ryeowook's, but he bore the bags without much complaint. He turned down Kyuhyun's offer of helping him carry them, and when he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, Kyuhyun had already heated up noodles he'd cooked while they were out.
"Sorry to trouble you," Ryeowook said, awkwardly hanging back in the doorway of the kitchen.
"It's no bother," Kyuhyun said, not looking at him.
"Thank you," Ryeowook said, quietly, and Kyuhyun nodded.
They ate together in silence, the only sound coming from either of them was the clacking of chopsticks against their bowls. The noodles weren't very good, but it was decent of Kyuhyun to attempt it anyway. They didn't ask about each other's day because they knew the words would have been nothing but empty concern.
"He's not coming down to eat?" Kyuhyun finally asked, breaking the silence, and Ryeowook shook his head.
"He'll sleep through anything, I guess," Ryeowook said, shrugging as he swirled the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks, "did you get the flowers from the garden?" It was improper, but he could hardly look at Kyuhyun. The flowers in the vase had been replaced. Tulips, this time, of a pink color. Sungmin would like it.
"Something like that," Kyuhyun said, looking away, and after a few moments, he picked up his glass and went over to the refrigerator. He looked like he was debating whether or not he was going to get more water, but decided not to, after a few seconds of hovering around. Ryeowook watched his actions with some confusion, but figured it as a quirk of Kyuhyun's, and nothing more.
"I'll help you with the dishes," Ryeowook said, standing up, and Kyuhyun nodded, setting himself in front of the sink. They worked while making small talk, things like work or tourist attractions or work or oh my god, what-- (Ryeowook) or shit (Kyuhyun). Kyuhyun instinctively pulled away from the water, and Ryeowook had the sense to turn off the tap, all the while not being able to take his eyes off of Kyuhyun pulling at the tulip on his palm with a kind of viciousness Ryeowook was all too familiar with. He'd felt it, in the first stages, and he wasn't too sure that he could have come to terms with it if he didn't have Sungmin.
(It meant less when he realized, afterwards, that he hadn't come to terms with it, not for all the world.)
"Oh, Kyuhyun," Ryeowook gasped out, feeling his heart ache at the sight of the small wound where he'd plucked the flower out, tiny, tell-tale punctures that Ryeowook himself knew too well, "you're--" Like me.
"Don't," Kyuhyun said, looking ashamed, "you might catch it if you come too near."
He looked small and vulnerable then, more like his age. Ryeowook clenched his teeth and enveloped him in a tight embrace.
Ryeowook didn’t expect Kyuhyun to welcome him with open arms, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t hurt when Kyuhyun pulled away abruptly. “You shouldn’t,” Kyuhyun mumbled, and Ryeowook’s lips thinned at the stiffening of Kyuhyun’s muscles, the passivity in his tone.
“Sorry,” Ryeowook said. It seemed like a day for apologies. How many more would he make until the end of their stay, if he even made it back to Seoul alive?
Kyuhyun shook his head, turning back to the sink, and Ryeowook pointedly looked away with some reluctance. “Please don’t tell Sungmin. I don’t want him to worry,” Kyuhyun said, after he’d managed to stop his hands from shaking at the feel of the water from the tap touching his skin. So many things not to tell Sungmin, but Ryeowook’s loyalty didn’t entail letting Sungmin know everything, did it?
Somehow “worry” didn’t seem like the right word Kyuhyun wanted to say. Ryeowook nodded, slowly, and if he noticed the nervous twitch of Kyuhyun’s lips, he didn’t say anything. It didn’t feel right to assume familiarity with Kyuhyun yet, but at least he knew that he wasn’t the only one.
A brief thought he’d buried once floated around his mind. What if, perhaps, Kyuhyun had less time…? What if this was fate’s cruel joke to form some material benefit for Ryeowook himself? But no, there was no use thinking of things like that. Ryeowook had no pretentions of being a kind person, but he still had some humanity left in him, for all his desperation. It didn’t feel right to force his selfish designs on Kyuhyun. He had no right.
It’s such a shame, though, to waste it…
Ryeowook felt like the worst person in the world to even let the thought fester and persist. It sounded like Sungmin’s voice, but perhaps it was only Ryeowook’s subconscious trying to transfer some of his spite to the innocent (ignorant).
Was this how he was supposed to treat a person he loved? Sometimes, the worst part of intimacy was when the little things started to irritate him, and when the guilt demons scratched at the surface of the small, hidden part of himself that he’d never want anyone else to find out. They all had their secrets to keep, their darkness to tame.
“I won’t,” Ryeowook promised, leaning over to touch Kyuhyun’s arm with a gentleness he’d never had for Sungmin, because Sungmin never needed it, never made it seem like it was enough.
He’d grow an apple blossom for Kyuhyun, if he could. There was no way to dictate it, but he could picture it in his mind, when he closed his eyes. He imagined rows and rows of trees littered with flowers and budding leaves in spring. The endless line of trees would point to the north, where he figured Seoul would be, and the gnarled roots would hide human bones, underneath -- small prices to pay for large quantities of life.
He wondered how easy it would it be.
To say that Sungmin was surprised when he saw Ryeowook and Kyuhyun getting along perfectly well without having to suffer from long lapses of terse silence the next morning was an understatement, but while he had his suspicions, he didn't pursue the thought for long, save for a few teasing words about how Ryeowook had finally stepped up to being a proper hyung, for once, to which Kyuhyun had reacted with some confusion.
"Isn't he younger than I am?" Kyuhyun asked, looking over at Ryeowook curiously while Ryeowook resolutely focused his attention on the potatoes he was peeling for lunch, a little embarrassed and irritated that Kyuhyun didn't know and Sungmin didn't tell him. Then again, Ryeowook never bothered to correct him properly.
"He's older than you are by two years," Sungmin said in between sips of his juice, "I never told you that? Huh." He gave Ryeowook a sickeningly sweet smile that didn't do much to lessen the annoyance.
"You're irresponsible," Ryeowook said, putting the peeler in the sink for Kyuhyun to wash later, "I don't know why I put up with you sometimes."
"You love me," Sungmin said, watching Ryeowook dump the potatoes in a bowl filled with water, "don't deny it!"
"I'd love you more if you got the mail," Ryeowook said, and Sungmin gave him a two-fingered salute before heading out of the kitchen. Kyuhyun stared at Sungmin's retreating form with confusion, and Ryeowook sighed, shrugging in defeat, "don't mind him, he's just being a little attention-seeking."
"He is your boyfriend," Kyuhyun said, nonchalantly rummaging through the fridge, and Ryeowook almost dropped the bowl with the hyacinth print on the floor. Kyuhyun laughed at his shell-shocked expression, but took pity on him and pried away Ryeowook's tight grasp from the bowl, "Ryeowookie, you share the same guestroom."
"You're still calling me Ryeowookie?" Ryeowook asked, faintly disturbed.
"Sungmin-hyung wasn't joking when he said you had avoidance issues," Kyuhyun muttered under his breath, "not to mention a one track mind."
He didn't tell me about your trust issues, Ryeowook wanted to shoot back, but Sungmin had re-entered the kitchen, leafing through the mail with a frown.
"Ryeowook?" Sungmin said, voice low, "does Yesung hold grudges, or is this just the neighborhood kids' idea of a practical joke?" He put a small envelope on top of the table, and Ryeowook reached over to look at it, throwing Sungmin a look of exasperation. Kyuhyun leaned over to catch a glimpse of the paper as Ryeowook pulled out its contents, and both of them promptly turned pale as they read the note that said, in large strokes of ink: I KNOW YOUR SECRET.
"Where did you get this?" Ryeowook said, tersely, sitting on the nearest chair, and Kyuhyun had to lean against the counter with his hands behind his back just to avoid letting Sungmin see how badly his hands were shaking.
"On the porch," Sungmin said, "but I didn't see anyone else outside. It's probably just a joke."
It wasn't.
( part two )
Fandom: Super Junior
Pairing: Sungmin/Ryeowook, Kyuhyun/Ryeowook
Prompts
This is the longest fucker I've written. Not the best possibly the worst, but have fun reading this train wreck. :3
When Ryeowook woke up that morning and saw a rhododendron sprouting out of his shoulder, he knew he was going to die.
The disease started simply enough. First, he would grow a couple of flowers in different places of his body -- the small of his back, the inside of his wrist. Then, leaves. They were easy to pluck out, easy to cover up. Denying it was the hardest part, in the first seven days. Afterwards, there was only resignation to look forward to, or desperation, if it fit the moment.
Ryeowook was never a desperate man, no. Not so much, not even after he'd started living with Sungmin.
"If you didn't want them to grow back, you shouldn't drink any water, or even take a bath," Sungmin told him, narrating the morning's news report with some seriousness in spite of how comically he looked in his nightgown, the one he’d gotten from his cousin as a joke but took to with surprising ease, much to Ryeowook’s mortification, "if you drank anyway, they'd multiply so quickly you'd get crushed under their weight."
Here Sungmin paused to take a bite out of his pancakes, a little burnt from Ryeowook's incapacity to watch the show without forgetting about breakfast. Ryeowook's fingers tightened around his glass of orange juice, before he set it back down on the table, as if considering something. When it became apparent that Ryeowook wasn't going to answer, Sungmin continued to speak. "Either way, you'd die. The only cure you'd even have would be to ingest the last flower that comes out of an infected person, and what are the odds of that, right?"
“That’s gross,” Ryeowook said, touching the rim of his glass, absent of the desire to drink, “you mean you’d have to eat a dead person’s flower?”
“When you put it like that,” Sungmin said, laughing, “I wouldn’t mind it so much, if it were yours.” His eyes brightened with barely concealed suggestiveness. It made Ryeowook’s mind hurt.
You’re a pervert, what will your mother say, Ryeowook meant to ask, but instead he pushed his glass towards Sungmin, shaking his head. "I'm glad it hasn't infected us," Ryeowook said, the words sounding hollow and tasteless in his ears, "I wouldn't know what to do if it happened to you."
Ryeowook pressed shaking fingers to Sungmin's cheek, and kissed the top of his forehead as he cleared the table. Sungmin looked at him, curiously.
"I'd smell nice, wouldn't I?" Sungmin said, smiling widely, and Ryeowook swallowed the nervousness in his throat, the desperation slowly blossoming in his chest. He wanted to get out, to feel the sun on his skin, the wind in his hair, anywhere else where he wouldn't have to hide from Sungmin's smile. Smaller scars healed for much longer, and smaller plants thrived under less significant warmth. That was just the way things worked in Ryeowook's life; quietly, and without so much importance.
"You already do," Ryeowook said, and pretended everything was still fine.
Holly, next. Ryeowook stared at the flower with its stem curling around his ring finger with distrust before yanking it off and flushing it down the toilet, as if blaming it for all of his troubles, past, present, and future.
He felt bad about it, afterwards, when the toilet stopped flushing, but it was only momentary, of course.
He spent the rest of the morning disinfecting his hand with alcohol, as if to get rid of the offending smell of flowers from his skin. When Sungmin covered him with small, affectionate kisses and wondered aloud if he were indulging in bath products, Ryeowook had to suppress the urge to push him away, preferably off the balcony of their apartment. Sungmin had kissed him like that when they first met, too, at a party of a mutual friend’s, and Sungmin had been drunk and lonely and Ryeowook was the only one who could hold his alcohol well, at the time.
They were younger, then, fresh out of college and without direction in their lives. Things were simpler when all he had to worry about was fighting off Sungmin's advances while weaseling his way out of helping with cleaning up Kibum's (trashed) apartment, when all he had to think about was Sungmin's smile, toothy and still feral, all the same, as he pushed Ryeowook onto the nearest available surface and mouthed small words of infatuation into the hollow of Ryeowook's neck, the sharp curve of his jaw. Love was never an option, then. "You're too tense," Sungmin had slurred, voice low and husky.
No, you're too drunk, Ryeowook wanted to say, but it was useless with Sungmin pressing kisses along the swell of his cheek, close to the curve of his mouth, kisses that tasted like sparkling wine and candy for smoking withdrawals. Even then, the knowledge of it felt acidic in his mouth, like knowing a secret he had never meant to share, or finding out more than the outward things he'd known about Sungmin, the things beyond his lazy grin or his hooded eyes or the voice he'd used for older women, beautiful girls. It had felt like another world, dancing in Ryeowook's palm, over and under and hoping to maybe get in between, just for some warmth.
He had smelled like another woman's, then. Ryeowook had figured as much.
"What's your name?" Sungmin had asked, only Ryeowook didn't remember if he had given it, then, or if Kibum took that timely opportunity to barge in and yell at Ryeowook for skipping out on him and oh my god, what the hell man?
In retrospect, it could have been worse.
It could have been better, too, but Ryeowook was never one to take anything beyond face value.
"What are you thinking about?" Sungmin asked, threading fingers through his hair, and Ryeowook leaned into his touch, pursing his lips.
"I wonder how Kibum's doing," Ryeowook said, and Sungmin laughed, something short and quiet and wonderful it made Ryeowook want to smile.
The thing Sungmin (and everyone else) had to realize the first year he had entered into a relationship with Ryeowook was that Ryeowook hid things well, until the inevitable moment that the dam would break. He concealed things so well, in fact, that it took Sungmin five days before he realized what was going on, and it was only through five minutes of holy shit are these thorns on the bed sheets that Ryeowook finally considered that there was no point in hiding anything when he didn't know what to prepare for.
"Ryeowook," Sungmin said, somberly, all the usual good humor and cheer replaced by a sharper edge in his voice, a visible rush of surprise and disappointment still present in his open expression, and Ryeowook shut his eyes and turned to go out, to clear his head, to stall the expected questions, anything to avoid Sungmin's consoling words, his sympathetic touch, the pity in his smile.
Ryeowook still had his pride, if nothing else.
Not that Sungmin himself didn't take to hiding things, Ryeowook thought glumly. There were always a lot of things everyone else knew before he did, moments he never shared with Sungmin that he would only hear of months afterwards. When it all came down to who knew more about the other, well, Ryeowook would be the only loser, in the end.
He spent the rest of the day window shopping. A present for a friend, he'd told the saleslady at Sungmin's favorite clothing store (or was it really the favorite? Ryeowook had more reason to doubt it himself, now) while fiddling with the white newsboy cap, only to put it on his head two hours later when he'd touched his hair and felt leaves sprouting out of his head without even a stem to warn him of its presence. He'd tried brushing it off, but it got tiring after the first five times it started to grow back. He'd seen the open, wondering stares the other people gave him, and it was enough to keep him walking to anywhere else where there wasn't a single soul to ask questions, to pretend to feel sad for him.
It's Seoul. That kind of place never existed, so there was only home to return to, and nowhere else.
Ryeowook pushed the door open cautiously and found Sungmin waiting on the couch, looking like the loneliest boy in the world. For a while Ryeowook thought of getting angry, of hurling bitter imprecations at him for pretending he had a right to know, but even then the words he'd formed in his mind were meaningless pieces of his insecurity, things Sungmin never deserved.
"Are you angry?" Ryeowook said, resting his head on Sungmin's shoulder, palm rubbing soothing circles over Sungmin's elbow, where the thorns had pricked him, and Sungmin said yes even as he shook his head and bit back the trepidation rising in his gut.
Whoever said tragedies needed to have a purpose? There's only fear, if nothing else.
Forgiveness had a lesser weight than this. Rather than anything else, it could probably be called avoidance. Ryeowook was a master at it, but sometimes Sungmin was better, when he chose the less confrontational route.
Sungmin cooked dinner for them, that night. Ryeowook watched him from the dining table, pretending he wasn’t looking when Sungmin approached him with a bowl in his hand and a smile fixed in place, almost as if to coax a wild animal. Resentment wasn’t a good look on Ryeowook, so he decided to pout, instead, because it seemed safer, and it disarmed Sungmin, to an extent.
Sungmin’s fingers smelled like uncooked shrimp, fresh from the freezer. "I'm not touching that," Ryeowook announced, shoving the bowl away from himself, and Sungmin laughed, obligingly picking up a piece and peeling it in a haphazard fashion.
"Hey," Sungmin said, taking the tail of the shrimp in between his thumb and his index finger, "do you want to go somewhere, just the two of us?"
"No," Ryeowook said, after a long, measured moment, and snap went the skin, digging into Sungmin's finger until it drew blood.
"Why not?" Sungmin asked, sounding wounded. He looked almost petulant as he rinsed his hand in the kitchen sink.
Why not indeed, Ryeowook wondered. There were many reasons to explore, only Ryeowook had yet to touch on them. Thinking deeply was part of the routine, now, only reality had yet to sink in. There was always room for a healthy dose of denial, but, in Ryeowook’s case, he was already past that.
First, Ryeowook had to quell the relative ease that anger had to offer him. Second, he could claim that he never believed in fulfilling bucket lists that had no point whatsoever other than to afford him some fleeting chance at material happiness. Third, he didn’t trust Sungmin enough to believe that he wouldn’t do something as outrageous as, well, proposing to commit couple’s suicide somewhere else.
“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” Ryeowook said, and it surprised him how honestly it came out, how quickly the words seemed to settle into the air and seem like a confession tinged wholly with guilt and no disinterest, no distrust to lace with the blame. If you only knew, Ryeowook considered, as Sungmin buried his head in the small space between Ryeowook’s neck and shoulder, as if to realize some of Ryeowook’s impermanence in some sensual, physical assurance, all bones, no finesse, all awkward silences, and Ryeowook realized that Sungmin’s gentleness was probably leading up to this point.
It was a chilling thought to ingest. He wouldn’t forget about it even as Sungmin tucked the snapdragon behind his ear with a tentative touch of his fingers, a light brush of his lips against Ryeowook’s skin even as Ryeowook’s leg hooked around his waist and pulled him closer into the darkness.
Did he presume too much? No, Ryeowook thought, smiling up at Sungmin without meaning it, he could never be too careful.
He had his slip ups, he realized later, when Sungmin cheerfully pushed him into the car and took hold of the wheel. Just a small vacation, he'd told Ryeowook, but Ryeowook was starting to suspect that something was completely off in the way Sungmin's eyes didn't quite light up the way it usually did at the prospect of going on a trip.
"You're insane," Ryeowook said, brushing the petals off his shirt. Lavender, this time. He'd have to remember what it meant, later on.
"Don't you trust me?" Sungmin said, "and put your cap on, I'm opening the windows."
"I don't," Ryeowook said, tersely, "Kibum warned me about you, you know."
"Oh?" Fingers tapping on the wheel, considering. "What did he say?"
Ryeowook sunk lower into his seat, visibly turning red. "Nothing," he lied, but Sungmin didn't press further, and that was a good thing, in some ways.
What did Kibum tell him again? Something about Sungmin never being able to differentiate between a healthy dose of affection and a more obsessive form of adoration. "It just goes hand in hand with him," Kibum had said as he blew into a cup of instant coffee, "his last girlfriend said he was a bit of a stalker, and got irrationally jealous sometimes."
"That's insane," Ryeowook had laughed, then, "he's not like that at all."
Kibum had shrugged, and looked at his feet. "He doesn't look like it, but I think..."
Kibum never did tell him what he thought, and didn't say anything else even after Ryeowook started seeing Sungmin. It got lost in between months of small talk and little interaction, like all things do, given time and space and disinterest. Ryeowook had the sneaking suspicion that it had to do with Kibum's vague disapproval of Sungmin, but he wasn't one to pursue the thought. When the initial anger passed, Ryeowook had a tendency to let it lay dormant in his mind, before he would pick it up again after getting tired of sitting back and letting things flow without his involvement.
"Are you thinking again?" Sungmin interrupted, just as Ryeowook's head swayed dangerously to the direction of the window, "you know you fall asleep when you start thinking. And are you wearing a belt? I think your shorts are falling down."
Ryeowook sat up, self-consciously tugging the hem of his shirt downwards. "You're supposed to be paying more attention to the road," Ryeowook said, "I don't think my mom would want to see a news flash about us being involved in a traffic accident."
"I only answer to destiny," Sungmin said, "wait, that sounds like a good song."
"Or a line from a movie," Ryeowook said, fondly, and if Sungmin weren't driving, Ryeowook would have reached over to hold his hand, pretending the lavender was potpourri and not the biggest living nightmare he'd ever had. No, not the biggest, but the most beautiful, perhaps, more than Sungmin's imagined faults, or the nagging feeling of disassociation that persisted in Ryeowook's mind.
Ryeowook fell asleep an hour after Sungmin turned on the radio, the quiet lull of Yiruma's music floating into his consciousness and out of it without much disturbance. He registered Sungmin's soft, concerned inquiry about the anemones that protruded out of his sleeve, the stems curling around his elbow, petals whiter than his skin, but he only mumbled an unsurprised "oh" and crossed his arms over his chest, as if to cradle it closer to himself.
The distance between Seoul and Busan was about 330 kilometers, more or less. Sungmin had muttered something about visiting a cousin of his, Kyuhyun, or something like it, and Ryeowook had made a vague noise of assent as Sungmin rattled off his childhood stories without needing encouragement from Ryeowook; not that Ryeowook wasn't a good listener. In all honesty, far from actually being a good listener, Ryeowook was good at pretending he was one, and Sungmin, for his part, acknowledged it but didn't press on. If he talked and Ryeowook was there to hear him, it was good. If he talked and Ryeowook had fallen asleep, that was alright, too. When he didn't talk, the only thing Sungmin seemed to do was think, and sometimes Ryeowook felt that was dangerous, because there was always something off about Sungmin when he started to withdraw into himself, almost as if something darker crept beneath the surface.
He used to write about sad things a lot, before he'd lost the time to write anything. Ryeowook didn't know what to say to him, when he was like that, because all Ryeowook ever wrote to anyone were happy things, small hearts, consoling messages that might have been more for formality's sake or politeness than genuine affection. Sometimes, it was difficult to figure out which of them was wrong, which of them was more real than the other, if reality had anything to do with it.
When he woke up, they were in Daegu, still in the Gyeongbu Highway. Yiruma had been replaced by an upbeat American popstar whose lyrics Ryeowook couldn't decipher what with his limited grasp of the english language. It didn't matter, he supposed. He was never one to find significance in the meaning of songs, anyway, so it was of no consequence.
Ryeowook reached over to turn the radio off, and Sungmin shot him a passing glance. "Did you know that the human body is composed of 80% water?" Sungmin said, out of nowhere, and Ryeowook's lips thinned into a small, unconvinced smile.
"I didn't," Ryeowook said, "was that meant to be comforting? Because it really isn't, you know."
"Sorry," Sungmin said, without looking properly apologetic, and Ryeaowook ran his thumb over his wrist to distract himself from measuring the amount of water he should take in, if it was too much, if it was enough, if it even mattered anyway.
Sungmin always made it seem like it did.
Then again, Sungmin made everything seem like it mattered more than Ryeowook could ever think it did.
As Sungmin got out of the car and pushed the gates open, Ryeowook peered curiously at the expansive grounds, sprawling roots of trees visible even on the surface of the soil, arching and entwining with no visible or definite route. The grass was cut to perfection, and there were sweet pea bushes around the veranda. Cedar, perhaps. It looked expensive with its fine-grained, reddish color, but it seemed to fit in with the rest of the house.
The house was a small, one-story structure seated in the center of the surrounding foliage. It resembled a hanok, but Ryeowook wasn’t sure what to make of the Western touches, what with the glass windows and the gothic exterior lighting perched on both sides of the entrance, but the giwa bespoke of the considerable investment put in the residence.
“It’s my cousin’s,” Sungmin explained as he drove up the barely distinguishable driveway - little more than a long patch of soil devoid of grass but littered with a few small pebbles. Ryeowook nodded, still staring at the swing on the porch, cushioned and fitted with black cloth. When Sungmin stepped out of the car, Ryeowook followed, not registering the rest of Sungmin’s words about his cousin. He took small, unsure steps towards the front porch, letting his fingers brush against the sweet peas along the way, and stood in front of the door, pressing the doorbell without encouragement from Sungmin.
There was the sound of hurried footsteps from inside the house, as if expecting someone, and when the door opened, Ryeowook came face to face with a boy - no, a man, maybe - who looked younger than Ryeowook, only taller. He had an honest, open face, and his ready smile immediately turned into a confused frown when he saw Ryeowook.
"Who are you?" The man said, eyeing Ryeowook with distrust, and Ryeowook guiltily looked at the floor.
“Kyuhyun-ah,” Sungmin said, walking up to the two with their bags slung on his shoulders. Ryeowook felt a flash of irritation, suddenly, feeling useless at the sight, “help me out here, will you?”
“Hyung,” Kyuhyun said, coming forward to take Sungmin’s backpack, to which Sungmin acquiesced gratefully, “it’s good to see you again.”
“This is Ryeowookie,” Sungmin said, affectionately ruffling up Ryeowook’s hair. Ryeowook nodded shyly at Kyuhyun, and Kyuhyun gave him a grudging smile back, “I hope your fridge is stocked, I’m tired from driving.”
“Demanding,” Kyuhyun said, shaking his head and going back inside, and Sungmin laughed, not even protesting at his lack of manners.
"Let's go," Sungmin said, taking Ryeowook's hand in his, and Ryeowook bowed his head.
There was an acute awareness of self-consciousness in him, somewhere; Ryeowook almost felt like sparing him an apology, but that was dangerous, too.
What was it about kindness again...? The kindness of strangers, and dependence, or something like it, but Sungmin was hardly a stranger to Ryeowook. Kyuhyun, on the other hand…
Forget it, he thought, and didn’t look back as he shut the door behind him.
Dinner was an awkward affair. Sungmin had cooked, much to Ryeowook's surprise, and that left Ryeowook and Kyuhyun to their own devices while Sungmin busied himself in the kitchen. The smell of bulgogi wafted into the living room, but Ryeowook had no appetite for it. At least an hour's worth of tense silence resulted from Sungmin's absence, Kyuhyun being the type to keep strangers at bay, regardless of their connections to family members, and Ryeowook not feeling particularly fond of new people with personal grudges against his presence. The only sound that came from their lips were their yawns, and the rest of the hour was spent with their gazes fixed at the television, in Ryeowook's case, or at a PSP, in Kyuhyun's. Ryeowook managed to sneak a few looks at his companion, but they never lingered for too long, out of his own discomfort and his lack of enthusiasm in sparking confrontations. It was, all in all, an uneventful way to spend the evening.
Especially if you only had a few more days to live, Ryeowook thought with some bitterness, staring at his wrists as if willing his body to suppress any sudden signs of his condition. He wasn't sure he would be able to take Kyuhyun's pity, or his disgust. The worst case scenario would be that Kyuhyun would be indifferent to it all, and Ryeowook hated having to play the game of politeness. Ryeowook was itching to get out of here.
When they took their seats at the table, Ryeowook sat beside Sungmin and stared at the vase of sunflowers on the table while Sungmin and Kyuhyun exchanged stories. Sungmin, mostly. Ryeowook wasn't listening, not attentively, anyway, but he knew when to nod his head or when to laugh on cue, and if the laughter was weak and hollow, he could always blame it on fatigue. Sungmin started to talk about the last family trip they ever had at the lake a good fifteen minutes' walk away from the house when Kyuhyun finally participated and contested the actuality of the event.
"We were at the lake and you fell in it," Sungmin said.
"I did?" Kyuhyun said, eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah, you did," Sungmin said, "and I felt bad for joking about you deserving it because you never wanted to play with me. You were always holed up in your room with your gameboy," Sungmin's eyes turned to the PSP beside Kyuhyun's plate, and he laughed, "even now, that still hasn't changed."
"I don't remember that," Kyuhyun said, thoughtfully tapping the tip of his chopsticks to his lower lip, the blunt edge pressing into the soft skin. Ryeowook's eyes involuntarily followed the motion, only to look away moments later.
"It was a long time ago," Sungmin said. Kyuhyun frowned, still unconvinced.
"If you're sure..." Kyuhyun trailed off, turning back to his plate. The quick glance he'd given Ryeowook was enough to tell Ryeowook that Kyuhyun knew he was being watched, but he didn't bring it up, at least.
They passed the next few days like this: Ryeowook would wake up and make breakfast, and Kyuhyun would trail after him thirty minutes later. At first, Kyuhyun had protested, saying he was a guest, but Ryeowook could see that Kyuhyun was pleased at the chore lifted from his shoulders, and in all honesty, Ryeowook wanted to do it out of nothing better to do. They'd eat breakfast in silence until Sungmin would come down from his and Ryeowook's shared room, in spite of the numerous other beds available, but at least Kyuhyun didn't ask. There was always a vague suspicion in his eyes, and the question always hovered in the air when Kyuhyun and Ryeowook were together, but they weren't close enough just yet to start with the twenty questions.
Frankly, Ryeowook didn't want to get interrogated. There were lines he didn't want to cross just yet, especially after Kyuhyun had, embarrassingly enough, called him "Ryeowookie" and Ryeowook nearly dropped the dishes he was washing. He'd considered Kyuhyun as a quiet kind of boy, not daring enough but still giving off the air of impudence all the same, but still...
"Excuse me?" Ryeowook asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. Kyuhyun made it sound like how Sungmin said his name, but there was a difference in the warmth.
"Ryeowookie," Kyuhyun said, feet propped up on the edge of his seat, "isn't that your name?"
"It's Ryeowook," Ryeowook said, going back to rinsing. An honest mistake, given how Sungmin had introduced them, but it wasn't as if Kyuhyun were ignorant of the proper suffixes. He was Korean, for god's sake.
"Sorry about that," Kyuhyun said, not sounding sorry at all, "I was just asking if you wanted to go anywhere, later. With Sungmin-hyung."
Ryeowook shook his head. The drive from Seoul hadn't endeared him to traveling just yet, and he figured Kyuhyun would just feel burdened with the task of playing their host if he did agree. Kyuhyun shrugged, and turned back to his book -- an English novel, Ryeowook realized, suddenly feeling a surge of admiration explode in his chest -- before he started to hum a slow, sad love song about a girl who left her lover. It sounded like the kind of songs Sungmin liked to listen to. Ryeowook didn't know what to make of it.
This is a joke, Ryeowook thought, darkly, as he dried the dishes with a towelette, is he making fun of me?
But he knew it was only bitterness that was speaking. It wasn't Kyuhyun's fault if Ryeowook's mind persisted in finding similarities between Kyuhyun and Sungmin, narrowing in on tiny details that would have seemed insignificant if Ryeowook never professed, in secret, that he might have found Kyuhyun remotely interesting. The fact of the matter is, we gravitate towards the ones we can never really touch.
He found wisterias on his pillow, that night. Funny, how his body seemed to know his thoughts all too well. The irony wasn't lost to him.
By the sixth day since he'd found the sprig of holly, Ryeowook was beginning to feel antsy. He had no idea how long it took for the disease to reach maturity, but he knew the worst was yet to come. He'd heard of some cases when overgrown roses had managed to prick the patients to death, or stems that suffocated the patient in his sleep, but they were few and far. Death, at least, took some semblance of peace, for the most part, unlike a car crash.
He figured he had a few weeks left, but he was still looking for the resignation that often came by the end of the week. He hadn't found it yet. Some days he spent the entire afternoon with a pair of scissors (they were smaller than hedge clippers, he figured) and snipped the day away while thinking how much longer? He holed himself up in his room when the sun was at its brightest and stared at his fingers as if to command them to give him answers.
No such luck.
He wondered about how Kyuhyun and Sungmin fared during lunch. Sometimes he felt sorry for them, when he considered how useless he was as a guest, but he figured they'd need the space alone, together, without someone else.
Sungmin left him peonies, sometimes. He appreciated the gesture, but he found it rude, almost cruel, the way Sungmin's small tokens were presented. Beautiful, almost lavish blossoms wrapped in ribbons, and he probably never bothered to ask if they were from someone else's garden, or from someone else's body. Sometimes Ryeowook would cry when Sungmin kissed the back of his hand, worried at the skin until it bloomed red under his teeth, and Ryeowook had no time for this, no time to let him get under his skin, no time to deepen Sungmin's adoration to ensure the possibility of a future.
"Stop crying," Sungmin teased, knocking their heads together, "jeeze, you're such a crybaby."
"I'm not," Ryeowook sniffled, pressing his palms into his eyes in a vain effort to stop the tears from coming out. Sungmin sighed and picked up the scissors on the floor, placing them on the drawer with some difficulty as he maneuvered himself around Ryeowook without having to let go of his grip around Ryeowook's shoulders.
"Even Kyuhyun's worried now," Sungmin chided, "come on, you have to get out sometime. Stop moping, okay? I love you."
"He might see," Ryeowook said, shaking his head, and Sungmin smiled, fondly, and perhaps with not a little discomfort.
"I don't think Kyuhyun would care much, if he did," Sungmin said, truthfully, and Ryeowook looked up, eyes dry but still red.
Did you know that seemingly meaningless opinions can induce the worst kind of scenarios? If Sungmin did, Ryeowook would have called him the worst, but people in a state of irrationality rarely consider the validity of such statements. People who play the role of giving comfort have limited views as well.
Ryeowook nodded.
There were lilies in the bath tub. Ryeowook suffered from a mild case of paranoia and Sungmin had to calm him down for five minutes in the bathroom before Ryeowook could muster the will to step out into the hallway. Kyuhyun hovered outside the bathroom door, tentatively knocking and inquiring if Ryeowook was alright, and Sungmin sighed, telling him it was fine, everything was under control, which was a load of bullshit, as far as Ryeowook was concerned.
"It wasn't this bad before," Ryeowook whimpered as Sungmin dried his hair with a towel, "I never really had to deal with this many flowers falling off me without me noticing, I was sure I didn't leave any last night..."
"Are you even sure these are yours?" Sungmin said, consolingly, and Ryeowook turned to give him an icy glare. The fact that Ryeowook was still naked save for a towel around his waist kind of offset the effect, as Sungmin's eyes seemed to stray a little lower than necessary.
"Who else would it be?" Ryeowook said, and Sungmin just sighed and started to massage his shoulders to work out the tension in his back. Ryeowook missed the curious, calculating look on Sungmin's face.
"I'll tell you what," Sungmin said, still with a soft, coaxing voice, "after we get rid of the lillies, we'll drive to the city and walk around. You like shopping, don't you? Then we'll go to a movie, and we can laugh at Kim Heechul's acting, if you want. It'll be the same as being back in Incheon or Seoul, I promise."
"What would Incheon have to do with anything?" Ryeowook said, biting the inside of his cheek. He tried to let out the setdown he'd been itching to say to Sungmin the moment he set himself down on the edge of the bathtub and ordered Ryeowook to take a seat on the floor, but it wouldn't help matters if he lost the only ally he had at this point. His mother, he could probably count on to side with him, but he wasn't sure if she would take the news of her outliving her only son well.
"Wasn't that were you were born, Ryeowookie?" Sungmin laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, "I never forget the things you tell me. I know everything about you."
Everything? It sounded like a lie, but Ryeowook could never tell, He'd said it so casually, and yet...
He'd have to ignore the nagging suspicion in his mind, for once. It wouldn't do them any good, not at this point when Sungmin was only being caring and Ryeowook was too cautious for his own good. How many months had it been since he'd kissed Sungmin, and even now he was still hyperaware of everything Sungmin said.
You have trust issues, kid, Sungmin had told him the first few weeks of their meeting, and Ryeowook had to admit that was true, to an extent.
"Okay," Ryeowook whispered, leaning against Sungmin, "okay."
True to his word, Sungmin had taken him out that afternoon. They spent the day walking around the shopping district, Ryeowook with his head covered under an unappealing, wide-brimmed sunhat that made him look like a kid struggling under its weight, and the ice cream Sungmin had bought them hadn't helped his image. When Sungmin took his hand and led him around the shops, he caught a peek at their reflection on one of the shop windows and decided that he looked less of a kid and more of an underweight teenage girl sulking on a date with her long-suffering boyfriend. It wasn't too far from the truth.
He'd worried about the sun, at first, but Sungmin kept his bare arms covered with sunblock, saying that it would stall the growth. He wondered how Sungmin knew about that, but these days, Sungmin seemed to know everything, now, and Ryeowook was the shut-in who had lost contact with civilization.
The closest thing to a mishap was the geranium that blossomed at his nape, but Sungmin had been behind him at that time, and saved him the embarrassment of the stares of strangers by discreetly passing his hand over Ryeowook's neck and plucking it out. He gave it to a saleslady he'd charmed into giving him a discount, after that, and it would have been amusing if Ryeowook hadn't been so nervous.
"You're so tense," Sungmin had sighed, smiling all the same, and Ryeowook went back to licking his ice cream as an excuse to not respond.
"Which reminds me," Sungmin continued as he inspected a rack of clothes, "you got a call from Yesung yesterday."
"Yesung?" Ryeowook said, surprised, "why?"
"I'd forgotten," Sungmin said, sounding too cheerful for his own good, "didn't you have a thing for him when we were in college?"
"Sungmin," Ryeowook admonished, "it wasn't like that. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't seem to matter, at that time," Sungmin said, airily, "it probably wasn't yesterday. Maybe a few days ago? A week, at most." Or a month. Yesung would probably be put off by this, and Ryeowook couldn't find it in himself to care, but he had to show some reaction to the liberties Sungmin took with his personal calls.
"Sungmin." There were volumes of disappointment in Ryeowook's tone by just saying his name. Sungmin looked vaguely remorseful, but Ryeowook finished the rest of his wafer cone and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Can you blame me?" Sungmin said, rolling his eyes, "we're on a trip and we're supposed to enjoy this, okay? I didn't want to give you another reason to mope."
It occured to Ryeowook that perhaps Sungmin was playing the guilt card to his advantage, but Ryeowook hadn't been the best companion in the world either.
"Sorry," Ryeowook said, letting his hands fall to his sides, "I'll try to enjoy myself, I promise."
"Good," Sungmin said, brightening up, "now get into the dressing room, I bet this will look good on you."
When they came back that evening, Sungmin had gone straight to bed, leaving their things in the hallway. Most of the bags weren't Ryeowook's, but he bore the bags without much complaint. He turned down Kyuhyun's offer of helping him carry them, and when he went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, Kyuhyun had already heated up noodles he'd cooked while they were out.
"Sorry to trouble you," Ryeowook said, awkwardly hanging back in the doorway of the kitchen.
"It's no bother," Kyuhyun said, not looking at him.
"Thank you," Ryeowook said, quietly, and Kyuhyun nodded.
They ate together in silence, the only sound coming from either of them was the clacking of chopsticks against their bowls. The noodles weren't very good, but it was decent of Kyuhyun to attempt it anyway. They didn't ask about each other's day because they knew the words would have been nothing but empty concern.
"He's not coming down to eat?" Kyuhyun finally asked, breaking the silence, and Ryeowook shook his head.
"He'll sleep through anything, I guess," Ryeowook said, shrugging as he swirled the noodles in his bowl with his chopsticks, "did you get the flowers from the garden?" It was improper, but he could hardly look at Kyuhyun. The flowers in the vase had been replaced. Tulips, this time, of a pink color. Sungmin would like it.
"Something like that," Kyuhyun said, looking away, and after a few moments, he picked up his glass and went over to the refrigerator. He looked like he was debating whether or not he was going to get more water, but decided not to, after a few seconds of hovering around. Ryeowook watched his actions with some confusion, but figured it as a quirk of Kyuhyun's, and nothing more.
"I'll help you with the dishes," Ryeowook said, standing up, and Kyuhyun nodded, setting himself in front of the sink. They worked while making small talk, things like work or tourist attractions or work or oh my god, what-- (Ryeowook) or shit (Kyuhyun). Kyuhyun instinctively pulled away from the water, and Ryeowook had the sense to turn off the tap, all the while not being able to take his eyes off of Kyuhyun pulling at the tulip on his palm with a kind of viciousness Ryeowook was all too familiar with. He'd felt it, in the first stages, and he wasn't too sure that he could have come to terms with it if he didn't have Sungmin.
(It meant less when he realized, afterwards, that he hadn't come to terms with it, not for all the world.)
"Oh, Kyuhyun," Ryeowook gasped out, feeling his heart ache at the sight of the small wound where he'd plucked the flower out, tiny, tell-tale punctures that Ryeowook himself knew too well, "you're--" Like me.
"Don't," Kyuhyun said, looking ashamed, "you might catch it if you come too near."
He looked small and vulnerable then, more like his age. Ryeowook clenched his teeth and enveloped him in a tight embrace.
Ryeowook didn’t expect Kyuhyun to welcome him with open arms, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t hurt when Kyuhyun pulled away abruptly. “You shouldn’t,” Kyuhyun mumbled, and Ryeowook’s lips thinned at the stiffening of Kyuhyun’s muscles, the passivity in his tone.
“Sorry,” Ryeowook said. It seemed like a day for apologies. How many more would he make until the end of their stay, if he even made it back to Seoul alive?
Kyuhyun shook his head, turning back to the sink, and Ryeowook pointedly looked away with some reluctance. “Please don’t tell Sungmin. I don’t want him to worry,” Kyuhyun said, after he’d managed to stop his hands from shaking at the feel of the water from the tap touching his skin. So many things not to tell Sungmin, but Ryeowook’s loyalty didn’t entail letting Sungmin know everything, did it?
Somehow “worry” didn’t seem like the right word Kyuhyun wanted to say. Ryeowook nodded, slowly, and if he noticed the nervous twitch of Kyuhyun’s lips, he didn’t say anything. It didn’t feel right to assume familiarity with Kyuhyun yet, but at least he knew that he wasn’t the only one.
A brief thought he’d buried once floated around his mind. What if, perhaps, Kyuhyun had less time…? What if this was fate’s cruel joke to form some material benefit for Ryeowook himself? But no, there was no use thinking of things like that. Ryeowook had no pretentions of being a kind person, but he still had some humanity left in him, for all his desperation. It didn’t feel right to force his selfish designs on Kyuhyun. He had no right.
It’s such a shame, though, to waste it…
Ryeowook felt like the worst person in the world to even let the thought fester and persist. It sounded like Sungmin’s voice, but perhaps it was only Ryeowook’s subconscious trying to transfer some of his spite to the innocent (ignorant).
Was this how he was supposed to treat a person he loved? Sometimes, the worst part of intimacy was when the little things started to irritate him, and when the guilt demons scratched at the surface of the small, hidden part of himself that he’d never want anyone else to find out. They all had their secrets to keep, their darkness to tame.
“I won’t,” Ryeowook promised, leaning over to touch Kyuhyun’s arm with a gentleness he’d never had for Sungmin, because Sungmin never needed it, never made it seem like it was enough.
He’d grow an apple blossom for Kyuhyun, if he could. There was no way to dictate it, but he could picture it in his mind, when he closed his eyes. He imagined rows and rows of trees littered with flowers and budding leaves in spring. The endless line of trees would point to the north, where he figured Seoul would be, and the gnarled roots would hide human bones, underneath -- small prices to pay for large quantities of life.
He wondered how easy it would it be.
To say that Sungmin was surprised when he saw Ryeowook and Kyuhyun getting along perfectly well without having to suffer from long lapses of terse silence the next morning was an understatement, but while he had his suspicions, he didn't pursue the thought for long, save for a few teasing words about how Ryeowook had finally stepped up to being a proper hyung, for once, to which Kyuhyun had reacted with some confusion.
"Isn't he younger than I am?" Kyuhyun asked, looking over at Ryeowook curiously while Ryeowook resolutely focused his attention on the potatoes he was peeling for lunch, a little embarrassed and irritated that Kyuhyun didn't know and Sungmin didn't tell him. Then again, Ryeowook never bothered to correct him properly.
"He's older than you are by two years," Sungmin said in between sips of his juice, "I never told you that? Huh." He gave Ryeowook a sickeningly sweet smile that didn't do much to lessen the annoyance.
"You're irresponsible," Ryeowook said, putting the peeler in the sink for Kyuhyun to wash later, "I don't know why I put up with you sometimes."
"You love me," Sungmin said, watching Ryeowook dump the potatoes in a bowl filled with water, "don't deny it!"
"I'd love you more if you got the mail," Ryeowook said, and Sungmin gave him a two-fingered salute before heading out of the kitchen. Kyuhyun stared at Sungmin's retreating form with confusion, and Ryeowook sighed, shrugging in defeat, "don't mind him, he's just being a little attention-seeking."
"He is your boyfriend," Kyuhyun said, nonchalantly rummaging through the fridge, and Ryeowook almost dropped the bowl with the hyacinth print on the floor. Kyuhyun laughed at his shell-shocked expression, but took pity on him and pried away Ryeowook's tight grasp from the bowl, "Ryeowookie, you share the same guestroom."
"You're still calling me Ryeowookie?" Ryeowook asked, faintly disturbed.
"Sungmin-hyung wasn't joking when he said you had avoidance issues," Kyuhyun muttered under his breath, "not to mention a one track mind."
He didn't tell me about your trust issues, Ryeowook wanted to shoot back, but Sungmin had re-entered the kitchen, leafing through the mail with a frown.
"Ryeowook?" Sungmin said, voice low, "does Yesung hold grudges, or is this just the neighborhood kids' idea of a practical joke?" He put a small envelope on top of the table, and Ryeowook reached over to look at it, throwing Sungmin a look of exasperation. Kyuhyun leaned over to catch a glimpse of the paper as Ryeowook pulled out its contents, and both of them promptly turned pale as they read the note that said, in large strokes of ink: I KNOW YOUR SECRET.
"Where did you get this?" Ryeowook said, tersely, sitting on the nearest chair, and Kyuhyun had to lean against the counter with his hands behind his back just to avoid letting Sungmin see how badly his hands were shaking.
"On the porch," Sungmin said, "but I didn't see anyone else outside. It's probably just a joke."
It wasn't.
( part two )