Numb
Title: Numb
Pairing: None - mention of Hanchul if you squint.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst.
Summary: Heechul's lies are beyond repair.
Lies are complicated things, keep saying them over and over, and eventually you can convince yourself of the worst of them. There were definite lines, between the words he fed others, and the honest truth, in the beginning. Now, they had faded with time, and repetition, had brought him to this. It is not clear what feelings are true. The happiness that echoes on one spectrum of the faded line, or the whispers of pain. But how does one express pain? Through a smile.
Laugh, jeer, and with unimaginable wit- somehow he convinces himself this is normal. There was a time before, unmentioned by the rest, that he was not well. However, that is past him, and he has fully recovered, gotten back on two feet- everyone says so. Nobody is sending those looks, waiting for the sudden collapse, because there is no longer any need. He doesn't need anybody, but himself, because in the end there is nobody else. He can be happy, can laugh, without the influence of others, it has been proven. The person closest to him, that perfect, wonderful person is gone. But it didn't beat him down.
The line is far past. But sometimes, those times, when it all catches up to him, things are hopeless. The facade that everything is okay comes down, and he feels himself sinking again. Unable to utter a cry, an ounce of anger because there is nothing to feel. Numbness takes over, and memories stir in his mind.
Only five years old, his parents let him play at the park in the neighborhood. A lot of kids, older, liked to play there too. It was one day that his father allowed him to go ahead and play with them, while he went to the store, that one of his elders thought of a game. They were to race, and as they turned the corner, he slipped and twisted his ankle - managing to scrap it on the gravel. Sobbing, he cried out for help, but instead he was ridiculed. They called him names, like crybaby, and when his father had returned this had left him in deeper distress.
He reached out for his father, waiting for the man to carry him off, but instead he knelt down beside him. Wiping his eyes and telling him to stop his crying. 'Kim Hee Chul, is this anything to cry about? It's just a little scrape. Real men only cry about the really important things.'
The five year old sniffled, 'even if it hurts?'
'It's a man's duty to be strong for their others, you want to be strong for mother, right?' the young boy considers this for a moment- and then nods. Yes, he could be strong for his mother, and she would be proud of him. His father raises now, and reaches out for his son's hand, 'now get up.'
He didn't cry.
'You can't just fight with people,' his manager is at it again, yet another lecture about his temperament. Apparently, it was not appreciated. 'Don't smirk either, nobody someone of your despicable nature with them.' The man in the stuffy suit sighs like it has been too long and rubs his eyes, he has to carry out another mess that Heechul, the idol, had made. 'Even if you are mad, you can't just say things so simply, it will ruin your image.'
As the important, idol, he can't let his temper get the better of him. But, in any aspect, what he did was no regret. People teasing Hankyung for simply being who he was got what they deserved. No less than a smack in the face. People would not always see it that way, but let them see it the way it was- a concerned friend who got scowled for several hours afterward.
He didn't yell.
Tears have run down, cold, and anger has diminished into hopelessness. All he can do is wait, and wait for the words to sink in... To chant them over and over, and to make him believe them again.
I am happy.
Pairing: None - mention of Hanchul if you squint.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst.
Summary: Heechul's lies are beyond repair.
Lies are complicated things, keep saying them over and over, and eventually you can convince yourself of the worst of them. There were definite lines, between the words he fed others, and the honest truth, in the beginning. Now, they had faded with time, and repetition, had brought him to this. It is not clear what feelings are true. The happiness that echoes on one spectrum of the faded line, or the whispers of pain. But how does one express pain? Through a smile.
Laugh, jeer, and with unimaginable wit- somehow he convinces himself this is normal. There was a time before, unmentioned by the rest, that he was not well. However, that is past him, and he has fully recovered, gotten back on two feet- everyone says so. Nobody is sending those looks, waiting for the sudden collapse, because there is no longer any need. He doesn't need anybody, but himself, because in the end there is nobody else. He can be happy, can laugh, without the influence of others, it has been proven. The person closest to him, that perfect, wonderful person is gone. But it didn't beat him down.
The line is far past. But sometimes, those times, when it all catches up to him, things are hopeless. The facade that everything is okay comes down, and he feels himself sinking again. Unable to utter a cry, an ounce of anger because there is nothing to feel. Numbness takes over, and memories stir in his mind.
Only five years old, his parents let him play at the park in the neighborhood. A lot of kids, older, liked to play there too. It was one day that his father allowed him to go ahead and play with them, while he went to the store, that one of his elders thought of a game. They were to race, and as they turned the corner, he slipped and twisted his ankle - managing to scrap it on the gravel. Sobbing, he cried out for help, but instead he was ridiculed. They called him names, like crybaby, and when his father had returned this had left him in deeper distress.
He reached out for his father, waiting for the man to carry him off, but instead he knelt down beside him. Wiping his eyes and telling him to stop his crying. 'Kim Hee Chul, is this anything to cry about? It's just a little scrape. Real men only cry about the really important things.'
The five year old sniffled, 'even if it hurts?'
'It's a man's duty to be strong for their others, you want to be strong for mother, right?' the young boy considers this for a moment- and then nods. Yes, he could be strong for his mother, and she would be proud of him. His father raises now, and reaches out for his son's hand, 'now get up.'
He didn't cry.
'You can't just fight with people,' his manager is at it again, yet another lecture about his temperament. Apparently, it was not appreciated. 'Don't smirk either, nobody someone of your despicable nature with them.' The man in the stuffy suit sighs like it has been too long and rubs his eyes, he has to carry out another mess that Heechul, the idol, had made. 'Even if you are mad, you can't just say things so simply, it will ruin your image.'
As the important, idol, he can't let his temper get the better of him. But, in any aspect, what he did was no regret. People teasing Hankyung for simply being who he was got what they deserved. No less than a smack in the face. People would not always see it that way, but let them see it the way it was- a concerned friend who got scowled for several hours afterward.
He didn't yell.
Tears have run down, cold, and anger has diminished into hopelessness. All he can do is wait, and wait for the words to sink in... To chant them over and over, and to make him believe them again.
I am happy.