Up in Smoke
Title: Up in Smoke
Pairing: Chankai
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sometimes, people choose to leave because it is better than being left behind.
We cross our bridges when we come to them, and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
-Tom Stoppard
1.
The smoke curls towards the stained ceiling, faint wisps outlined by slivers of moonlight peeking through the blinds. Kai inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the familiar tang of burnt vinegar. His eyes flutter close as the euphoria begins to spread to every inch of his body. It slowly builds, culminating into a rush of tangled memories; memories of sunshine and laughter with the bittersweet taste of a broken promise.
They lean against the roof railing, faces tilted towards the cloudless sky. Beneath the familiar smell of smog and Marlboros is a hint of grass, presage for another fleeting spring in the big city.
"Why do you think they do it?" Chanyeol says absently as he flicks specks of ash from his cigarette.
Kai watches as the ashes spiral down towards the teacher parking lot, twenty feet below. His best friend was fond of musing about the human condition and he was, as always, the unwilling yet accommodating audience. "Do what?"
"Jump. Decide that life isn't worth a damn, that cracking your head open is better than living for another day."
"I don't know. Because they're stupid?"
Chanyeol lets out a chuckle; the sound hangs in the air before the wind carries it away. The cigarette dangles loosely from his long fingers and his grin eases back into a small, rueful smile. "Or maybe they just wanted an escape."
"A bit overdramatic, isn't it?"
They smoke in silence and Kai almost believes that the conversation is over when Chanyeol says softly. "Sometimes people choose to leave because they believe there's something better out there."
(And sometimes, Kai thinks, people choose to leave because it is better than being left behind.)
2.
His body feels feather light. A pervasive calm settles in his mind like layers of fresh snow on a quiet morning. He can't quite call it happiness but it's not really unhappiness either.
"She's gone."
Chanyeol watches him warily as if afraid he would burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Instead, Kai presses his forehead against the cool surface of the window pane and gazes out. The sky is the brilliant orange of sunset, with just a hint of indigo to herald nightfall.
"She cleared out, took all her stuff. Didn't even bother leaving a note for my old man." He lets out a humorless laugh. It was stupid of him to believe in a world where fathers were forgiving and mothers were faithful, where the word family actually meant something more than shared DNA.
He suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder and the warmth seeping through his shirt is just enough to drag him away from his dark, soul-siphoning thoughts and back into reality.
"Who needs her when you've got me?" Chanyeol grins and pats him one more time before handing him a pack of cigarettes.
(Kai was a fool for believing that friendship would hold any more permanence than family.)
***
"Really, Chanyeol. You of all people in the fucking library."
Chanyeol shoots him a glare and continues to cover his notes with fluorescent-yellow highlights. Kai shrugs and settles down across from him, propping his feet on the table. Bright, golden light streaks through the window, falling upon scattered notes and piles of textbooks. The trees are orange and the warm breeze whispers the close of summer.
"Go away," mutters Chanyeol. He runs both hands through his messy hair and drops his head on the table in frustration.
Kai lets out a chuckle and nudges Chanyeol's elbow with his foot. "Get up, asshole. Seniors aren't allowed to sleep."
Chanyeol pushes him away and scowls, eyes underscored with shadows. "If you're not going to study, go be a dick somewhere else and leave me alone."
"Chill out. I'm here to provide moral support."
"Later, alright?" Chanyeol softens the retort with a small smile before picking up his highlighter with renewed determination in his eyes. It is obviously a dismissal so Kai climbs to his feet and walks out with a smirk and a salute.
(Kai doesn't talk to Chanyeol until Christmas.)
3.
His tongue feels as rough as sandpaper. Sweat beads on his feverish skin. It always begins with fire, he thinks. All you need is a single spark to ignite the flames.
Kai swallows, grimacing as the alcohol burns a path down his throat. Across the table, Sehun grins before throwing back his own shot without so much as a blink. It had been like this for the past few month, the drinking and the late night (or more accurately, early morning) drug binges in his dingy apartment.
The knock on the door pulls him out of his reverie. There is snow in Chanyeol's hair and a tie peeks out from beneath his winter coat. Kai tries to focus on his friend's face; there's something different about it but the booze is making him dizzy and he can't pinpoint it exactly.
"Whassup?"
"I can't believe it," Chanyeol hisses. Kai can see it now, the mix of disgust and disappointment that crosses his flushed face. "You're fucking drunk. And here I thought my best friend would have the decency to show his face at my graduation ceremony."
An apology rises to Kai's lips but is quickly pushed back by months of pent-up frustration. Alcohol drudges up the memories of walking home alone, of smoking on the rooftop with only the wind for company, of the brilliant smile on Chanyeol's face after he had opened his acceptance letter.
"Did you really expect me to show when you haven't talked to me for weeks?" he sneers.
"I was studying. I can't babysit you all the time."
His heart pounds, his fists clench and his heart begins beating a rapid, frantic staccato. Anger runs through him like hot, molten lava.
Kai jabs an accusing finger at Chanyeol's chest. "You've always thought that you were better than the rest of us, that you deserved more than this hellhole. Isn't that why you're leaving? There's nothing you wouldn't throw away if you can have something better. And you know what, go for it, because I don't give a fucking damn."
He flings his words like sharpened daggers and is deeply satisfied when he draws blood; pain flashes in Chanyeol's eyes before they narrow into slits.
"I guess you don't need me to set you straight anymore," he says with a pointed look towards the bottles strewn across the floor. "You obviously have it all under control." There is a sense of finality in his voice and Chanyeol sweeps out the door without a backward glance.
Kai stumbles and slumps against the wall, breaths coming out in shallow gasps.
The need rips through him, wrenches him apart. Tears spill down his face, hot, wet and choking.
Somewhere buried beneath the anger is a desperate voice that wants to call out, to make amends and beg him not to go. But the deed is done and the words cannot be recalled.
(It is when he turns the lock on the door that the realization hits him. There are many, many ways for people to leave. Death is only one of them.)
Slowly, he sits up, his weakened muscles protesting against the strain. Tomorrow has come and as always, he has no notion of when yesterday had left. He surveys the room. Wrinkled sheets of foil litter the floor, reflecting streaks of sunlight filtering through the grimy windows. Lying atop a stack of scattered letters is the empty syringe from last night. He vaguely remembers the pain of anger and self-loathing, but heroin has taught him that thoughts are forgettable and emotions are expendable.
He fumbles in his pockets for his lighter. It is during the blissful high that he can forget he is falling, plummeting off the bridge he had both built and burned, spinning out of control like bits of ash in the wind. And so he presses the cigarette to his lips and hopes that today, he will be another step closer.
Closer to the beginning, the memories of spring, when the world was bright and hope was infinite .
Closer to the end, the final breath, when the fire burns out and everything goes up in smoke.
In this story, Kai is portrayed as a heroin addict. There are three basic stages to a heroin high: the initial rush where you experience happiness or the absence of pain, the tranquil stage when you enter a state of relaxation, and the withdrawal where your body reacts negatively as the drug begins to wears off. As for the drug itself, it can be injected directly into the bloodstream using a needle or smoked by rolling it up aluminum foil.
Pairing: Chankai
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Sometimes, people choose to leave because it is better than being left behind.
We cross our bridges when we come to them, and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered.
-Tom Stoppard
1.
The smoke curls towards the stained ceiling, faint wisps outlined by slivers of moonlight peeking through the blinds. Kai inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the familiar tang of burnt vinegar. His eyes flutter close as the euphoria begins to spread to every inch of his body. It slowly builds, culminating into a rush of tangled memories; memories of sunshine and laughter with the bittersweet taste of a broken promise.
They lean against the roof railing, faces tilted towards the cloudless sky. Beneath the familiar smell of smog and Marlboros is a hint of grass, presage for another fleeting spring in the big city.
"Why do you think they do it?" Chanyeol says absently as he flicks specks of ash from his cigarette.
Kai watches as the ashes spiral down towards the teacher parking lot, twenty feet below. His best friend was fond of musing about the human condition and he was, as always, the unwilling yet accommodating audience. "Do what?"
"Jump. Decide that life isn't worth a damn, that cracking your head open is better than living for another day."
"I don't know. Because they're stupid?"
Chanyeol lets out a chuckle; the sound hangs in the air before the wind carries it away. The cigarette dangles loosely from his long fingers and his grin eases back into a small, rueful smile. "Or maybe they just wanted an escape."
"A bit overdramatic, isn't it?"
They smoke in silence and Kai almost believes that the conversation is over when Chanyeol says softly. "Sometimes people choose to leave because they believe there's something better out there."
(And sometimes, Kai thinks, people choose to leave because it is better than being left behind.)
2.
His body feels feather light. A pervasive calm settles in his mind like layers of fresh snow on a quiet morning. He can't quite call it happiness but it's not really unhappiness either.
"She's gone."
Chanyeol watches him warily as if afraid he would burst into tears at the slightest provocation. Instead, Kai presses his forehead against the cool surface of the window pane and gazes out. The sky is the brilliant orange of sunset, with just a hint of indigo to herald nightfall.
"She cleared out, took all her stuff. Didn't even bother leaving a note for my old man." He lets out a humorless laugh. It was stupid of him to believe in a world where fathers were forgiving and mothers were faithful, where the word family actually meant something more than shared DNA.
He suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder and the warmth seeping through his shirt is just enough to drag him away from his dark, soul-siphoning thoughts and back into reality.
"Who needs her when you've got me?" Chanyeol grins and pats him one more time before handing him a pack of cigarettes.
(Kai was a fool for believing that friendship would hold any more permanence than family.)
***
"Really, Chanyeol. You of all people in the fucking library."
Chanyeol shoots him a glare and continues to cover his notes with fluorescent-yellow highlights. Kai shrugs and settles down across from him, propping his feet on the table. Bright, golden light streaks through the window, falling upon scattered notes and piles of textbooks. The trees are orange and the warm breeze whispers the close of summer.
"Go away," mutters Chanyeol. He runs both hands through his messy hair and drops his head on the table in frustration.
Kai lets out a chuckle and nudges Chanyeol's elbow with his foot. "Get up, asshole. Seniors aren't allowed to sleep."
Chanyeol pushes him away and scowls, eyes underscored with shadows. "If you're not going to study, go be a dick somewhere else and leave me alone."
"Chill out. I'm here to provide moral support."
"Later, alright?" Chanyeol softens the retort with a small smile before picking up his highlighter with renewed determination in his eyes. It is obviously a dismissal so Kai climbs to his feet and walks out with a smirk and a salute.
(Kai doesn't talk to Chanyeol until Christmas.)
3.
His tongue feels as rough as sandpaper. Sweat beads on his feverish skin. It always begins with fire, he thinks. All you need is a single spark to ignite the flames.
Kai swallows, grimacing as the alcohol burns a path down his throat. Across the table, Sehun grins before throwing back his own shot without so much as a blink. It had been like this for the past few month, the drinking and the late night (or more accurately, early morning) drug binges in his dingy apartment.
The knock on the door pulls him out of his reverie. There is snow in Chanyeol's hair and a tie peeks out from beneath his winter coat. Kai tries to focus on his friend's face; there's something different about it but the booze is making him dizzy and he can't pinpoint it exactly.
"Whassup?"
"I can't believe it," Chanyeol hisses. Kai can see it now, the mix of disgust and disappointment that crosses his flushed face. "You're fucking drunk. And here I thought my best friend would have the decency to show his face at my graduation ceremony."
An apology rises to Kai's lips but is quickly pushed back by months of pent-up frustration. Alcohol drudges up the memories of walking home alone, of smoking on the rooftop with only the wind for company, of the brilliant smile on Chanyeol's face after he had opened his acceptance letter.
"Did you really expect me to show when you haven't talked to me for weeks?" he sneers.
"I was studying. I can't babysit you all the time."
His heart pounds, his fists clench and his heart begins beating a rapid, frantic staccato. Anger runs through him like hot, molten lava.
Kai jabs an accusing finger at Chanyeol's chest. "You've always thought that you were better than the rest of us, that you deserved more than this hellhole. Isn't that why you're leaving? There's nothing you wouldn't throw away if you can have something better. And you know what, go for it, because I don't give a fucking damn."
He flings his words like sharpened daggers and is deeply satisfied when he draws blood; pain flashes in Chanyeol's eyes before they narrow into slits.
"I guess you don't need me to set you straight anymore," he says with a pointed look towards the bottles strewn across the floor. "You obviously have it all under control." There is a sense of finality in his voice and Chanyeol sweeps out the door without a backward glance.
Kai stumbles and slumps against the wall, breaths coming out in shallow gasps.
The need rips through him, wrenches him apart. Tears spill down his face, hot, wet and choking.
Somewhere buried beneath the anger is a desperate voice that wants to call out, to make amends and beg him not to go. But the deed is done and the words cannot be recalled.
(It is when he turns the lock on the door that the realization hits him. There are many, many ways for people to leave. Death is only one of them.)
Slowly, he sits up, his weakened muscles protesting against the strain. Tomorrow has come and as always, he has no notion of when yesterday had left. He surveys the room. Wrinkled sheets of foil litter the floor, reflecting streaks of sunlight filtering through the grimy windows. Lying atop a stack of scattered letters is the empty syringe from last night. He vaguely remembers the pain of anger and self-loathing, but heroin has taught him that thoughts are forgettable and emotions are expendable.
He fumbles in his pockets for his lighter. It is during the blissful high that he can forget he is falling, plummeting off the bridge he had both built and burned, spinning out of control like bits of ash in the wind. And so he presses the cigarette to his lips and hopes that today, he will be another step closer.
Closer to the beginning, the memories of spring, when the world was bright and hope was infinite .
Closer to the end, the final breath, when the fire burns out and everything goes up in smoke.
In this story, Kai is portrayed as a heroin addict. There are three basic stages to a heroin high: the initial rush where you experience happiness or the absence of pain, the tranquil stage when you enter a state of relaxation, and the withdrawal where your body reacts negatively as the drug begins to wears off. As for the drug itself, it can be injected directly into the bloodstream using a needle or smoked by rolling it up aluminum foil.