[Fic] All These Fragments
Title: All These Fragments
Pairing: KrisTao, Minor!KrisLay
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Domestic!AU
Length: 2,563 w.
Warning(s): Character death
Summary: Kris' life is broken into pieces when he finds the end to his horizon.
The day Kris met Zitao was one he never bothered to remember. Now, he regrets that decision, to let the glimpses of the boy that no longer belongs to him, slip from his mind and disappear to a place Kris is too tired to look. So today, as he runs his smooth fingertips across the rugged and chipped base of a fountain, he is unable to draw back moments of a smiling Zitao. For, that boy seemed to smile less frequently after he became Kris'. There was sunlight drifting from the blue tinged sky this mid morning onto the glittering water. It would have been like a warm hug to Kris' hunched shoulders, had the man not been wearing the black suit jacket he was. It wasn't Kris' first choice of what to wear today, but it was funeral custom. It wasn't Kris' first choice to be attending the funeral today, but it was only the right thing to do. It wasn't his choice to lose Zitao, but it's what happened.
"Til death do us part", were the words Kris had swore his love to Zitao upon, and those words did remain true, until this yesterday morning. He was sitting beside the hospital bed, the irritating scent of sanitary alcohol burning away his non existent nose hairs as he took deep breaths and clutched his lover's cold, veiny hand. Kris had held Zitao's hand like it was the boy's soul, and he was trying to keep it from escaping. He didn't want to believe that everything could be over in a matter of minutes. Kris was watching the monitor with an intense stare, eyes only leaving the neon green heartbeats to look down at his boy's paling complexion. Every few seconds, but what felt like hours to Kris, Zitao's eyes would flutter open and show the older that his life was draining out. Every few seconds, Zitao's mouth would fall open, reminding Kris that those lips were probably never going to be hot against his collarbone again. Every few seconds, more and more of Kris' hope that was hanging by a mere thread, snuck away into a place he didn't dare look.
The monitor began beeping frantically, in time with Kris' sinking heart. It threw it's fit at exactly 8:39 that morning. Kris knew this because he had been counting down the seconds, minutes, and hours on the little clock in the top left corner of the screen. His eyes flickered back to Zitao's closing ones, Zitao's closing mouth, Zitao's closing time. The wait was over. To be honest to himself, Kris had been waiting. That's all he had been doing here by his boy's bed. Waiting. Kris had been hoping that maybe, before Zitao died, he'd turn to the taller man and whisper "I love you", or "I'll see you again one day" or something sappy but memorable like that. Instead, Kris was bid farewell with a simple squeeze of the fingers from Zitao's fading hand. At first, Kris was satisfied, but soon it made him feel even worse. He would never again be able to hold Zitao's hand. But then again, he would have never been able to hear those words he wanted to hear, come from Zitao's lips again either.
The wake was first. Kris didn't like it, didn't want to be there, didn't understand the necessity of it. It pained him far too much to see Zitao's bluish form laying motionless in a coffin. It reminded him of the reality he was being faced with. The reality he didn't want, that he'd do anything to change. Even with comforting arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist, his friends, family, and acquaintances whispering into his ear that they were "sorry for his loss" and "everything was going to be just fine", he still felt lonely. Kris couldn't stand being in the room with everyone else, and dead Zitao, so he left. He went out into the garden of the funeral home, rain misting onto his cheeks as he stared gloomily into the distance. He gaze traveled across the asphalt path, past a grove of daffodils, and across a lake, to the never ending horizon. Yet, only never ending it seemed. Kris could not see the shore on the other side, but yet he knew there was one. When he was with Zitao, he couldn't imagine being without him, couldn't imagine there being an end to the horizon of their romance. But yet, there was. It had come, and Kris had not seen it coming, although as he thinks back, he should have.
The first bout of coughing had started a little over a month back. It started as just a tickle in the back of Zitao's throat, but it wasn't severe enough to stop Kris from wanting to kiss the younger everywhere his mouth could reach. Wrapped up in each other's arm, reeking of sweat, and over exerted passion, the hacking had ensued. Violent coughs erupting from the caverns of the boy's lungs. Kris decided it best to not be too intimate for a while, until the bacteria had cleared out. Zitao had reluctantly agreed. They began to make it a habit of drinking more water everyday, and consuming fresher foods so as not to provoke the sickness and make things any worse. Their plan seemed to work wonderfully, until Zitao began finding it hard to breath. He'd wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air and crying for the pain in his chest to stop. Kris, and he hates himself for it now, didn't think too much of it, convincing himself once again, it would simply go away. It was only when Zitao began coughing up splotches of his raw, red insides that Kris threw them both into their car and drove manically to the hospital.
Kris had thought the wake was awful, but he had no idea the pain that was going to be pushed upon him at the funeral. Most were weeping and those who weren't, were holding the ones who were. No one there understood what he was going through, what he had gone through, but they all pretended they did. They cried out fake droplets of selfishness onto their stark white dress shirts, and melancholy black lace dresses. Pats on the back and words of remorse spoken at the head of a church did not ease Kris' pain, nor did it bring back Zitao. Yet everyone believed it would. "He was a good boy. He liked to take walks alone on the beach, until he met a young man, and suddenly there were two trails of footprints in the sand." No. Well, yes, Kris thought. He had been a good boy, Zitao had been an marvelous boy. But to Kris, he was more than that. Zitao had understood Kris, all his little secrets, every quirky habit, and still loved him. Kris had returned the love everyday. Zitao had liked to take walks alone on the beach, and Kris thinks that might have been how they met, but of course he could not remember. He didn't exactly want to. As for the "and suddenly to there were two trails of footprints in the sand", it did not happen as "suddenly" as people think it did. Although Kris can not remember precisely how, he does remember that it took a lot of long nights and full days to grow the connection that he and Zitao had.
It's only now, when he's sitting beside the fountain, that Kris realizes he never said goodbye to Zitao. He never said the word "goodbye", but technically, his kiss to the cold, dead skin on his boy's forehead moments after he died counted as one. Kris' fingertips are now dusted with fragments of the stucco material the fountain's base is made out of. He stares at his fingers, noticing the deep pink color they are, and thinks back to how that color was the one that used to always stain Zitao's cheekbones and lips when he awoke beside Kris in bed every morning before now. The instant Zitao's feminine lashes left the skin on his upper face, Kris' lips would latch themselves to the other's soft, and usually still swollen ones. After a bit of fondling each others mouths, the couple would climb out of bed, ready for the day. Ready for whatever the light crawling past the glass of the window was going to toss at them. Kris and Zitao believed they could have tackled anything, until yesterday morning. Yesterday morning proved to Kris that perfect things must be broken so that nothing may be perfect.
Tonight, Chanyeol had promised to take him to Black Pearls for dinner. Chanyeol had interpreted Kris' silence as a subtle "yes, thank you" and that made Kris frustrated. He just wanted to be alone, to wallow in his misery and sort through the reality that he's been forced to face. Chanyeol thought otherwise though. Chanyeol thought that bringing Kris to a bar full of drunk chicks and flirtatious gays was just what he needed. Kris wanted to shout at Chanyeol "you're a dick, I don't want to be anywhere loud, anywhere that reminds me of Zitao" because Zitao loved Black Pearls, back when it was far classier than it is now. But Chanyeol was being firm about this, and so at 6:30 sharp, Kris was seated in a sticky, green plastic booth, being asked what he'd like to drink. "Water's fine" he had told the top heavy waitress, and she had nodded blandly before scribbling down Chanyeol's peach bellini request. "I know you don't want to be here, but you really do need something to take your mind off your sorrow" Chanyeol said, leaning in to place a hand sincerely on Kris'. It took his entire being not to use his free one to knock that cheesy smile right off of Chanyeol's thick head.
This wasn't the first time Kris had lost someone, and as he lay awake on the couch in Chanyeol's living room, against his better judgement, he submissively allowed the memories to wash over him. Back in college, Kris had been a bit of a jock. He was the captain of most of the teams, rugby, football, soccer, even the short lived tennis team. But his favorite, had been basketball. Something about the sound of squeaking sneakers and swishing baskets that made him genuinely happy. Kris didn't do all that well in the academic part of college, so being good at sports helped him get through. In the end, he ended up working as an advocate in a small real estate law firm in the city. But as a college athlete, it was necessary to have a girlfriend. By then, Kris knew his sexuality was geared more towards persons with junk in their pants rather than in tightly fitted shirts, and by this he means he was gay. Zhang Yixing, male, also Chinese, quite attractive, and into most of the things the female crowd were into, who better to be his arm candy? Being such a star player did have it's perks for Kris, one being that it was easy as wink, brush, peck to woo the beautiful Yixing into being his. Two, being that after a month of "love is love no matter what gender" and "god loves lovers, and that's what we are so how about you fuck off", the team had come to accept Kris' relationship with the science major, Yixing.
College ended all too fast for Kris. He dropped sports after his second year, realizing he didn't want to bounce a rubber ball around shiny floors for the rest of his life. So he had taken up law, and kept Yixing along for the change of ride. Too soon, Kris had his degree, and Yixing was ready to go out into the world to look for a position as a science teacher in a high school. Yixing wanted to move to Japan, and teach there, but that greatly conflicted with Kris' newfound dreams to work in a law firm in Seoul, where his other friends were venturing off too. Yixing wouldn't listen to his reason, and told Kris "if you don't love me enough to follow me to Japan, then I guess this is goodbye". Kris had never been broken up with before in this half of his life, but he could tell this is what it sounded like. With an "I love you Yixing, but if you can't respect my dreams then I guess it really is goodbye", he lost his first real love to the world. Unless some sad fate had befallen Yixing, Kris suspects he's probably happy teaching teens about atoms and showing them how to dissect frogs off in a classroom in Japan. Maybe every night he goes home to a significant other who loves him, loves him enough to follow him where he wants to go. The thought hurts Kris a little inside, and he pushes it away as reality returns home.
It's been half a month since Zitao died. In that time, Kris decided to move out of the condo he used to share with his now deceased husband. As he left, he touched the tacky wallpaper in their front foyer. Zitao loved birds, especially cardinals, and that's what had decorated the walls of their place because Kris had always been a sucker for Zitao's aegyo. The once vibrant red feathers off the painted bird were now a lighter shade, just like everything else in Kris' life. He let his bangs fall down in front of his eyes before he strode out, single suitcase in hand. Kris moved in with Sehun and Luhan, two buddies he's had since Grade 8. Now that the two were engaged, it was a little less than convenient for Kris to be moving in with them, but they pitied his situation and felt the need to take care of him for the time being. "We just want you to knows that we will always be here for you Kris" they had told him as they embraced him in unison. "Unless you die and leave me too" Kris uttered beneath his breath.
It's been one full month since Zitao died. Sehun and Luhan are still caring for Kris, and he's still working at the small law firm in the heart of Seoul. He still chats with Chanyeol through text, and occasionally skypes with Jongdae who's now in Canada studying plant life. Kris still wakes up every morning and turns on his side, but now all he sees is a coffee table piled impossibly high with fashion and home magazines. He doesn't wake up to Zitao's flushed face, and each morning it kills him. He still wears his wedding ring, but now it's on his right hand. He still lives, but he feels like now he's got no purpose to. Without Zitao, Kris feels empty, like he's lost everything. As cliche as it sounds, Zitao was his everything, he was Kris' reason for waking up in the morning, and going to sleep at night. Now that he's gone, Kris still wakes up, but not with the same ethusiam. Now that Zitao is gone, Kris still falls asleep, but not to the song of his lover's breathing, but to the tune of his own tears.
- omg first fic ever
- shit i like it
- i hope you like it
- probs not
- wut have i done
Pairing: KrisTao, Minor!KrisLay
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Tragedy, Domestic!AU
Length: 2,563 w.
Warning(s): Character death
Summary: Kris' life is broken into pieces when he finds the end to his horizon.
The day Kris met Zitao was one he never bothered to remember. Now, he regrets that decision, to let the glimpses of the boy that no longer belongs to him, slip from his mind and disappear to a place Kris is too tired to look. So today, as he runs his smooth fingertips across the rugged and chipped base of a fountain, he is unable to draw back moments of a smiling Zitao. For, that boy seemed to smile less frequently after he became Kris'. There was sunlight drifting from the blue tinged sky this mid morning onto the glittering water. It would have been like a warm hug to Kris' hunched shoulders, had the man not been wearing the black suit jacket he was. It wasn't Kris' first choice of what to wear today, but it was funeral custom. It wasn't Kris' first choice to be attending the funeral today, but it was only the right thing to do. It wasn't his choice to lose Zitao, but it's what happened.
"Til death do us part", were the words Kris had swore his love to Zitao upon, and those words did remain true, until this yesterday morning. He was sitting beside the hospital bed, the irritating scent of sanitary alcohol burning away his non existent nose hairs as he took deep breaths and clutched his lover's cold, veiny hand. Kris had held Zitao's hand like it was the boy's soul, and he was trying to keep it from escaping. He didn't want to believe that everything could be over in a matter of minutes. Kris was watching the monitor with an intense stare, eyes only leaving the neon green heartbeats to look down at his boy's paling complexion. Every few seconds, but what felt like hours to Kris, Zitao's eyes would flutter open and show the older that his life was draining out. Every few seconds, Zitao's mouth would fall open, reminding Kris that those lips were probably never going to be hot against his collarbone again. Every few seconds, more and more of Kris' hope that was hanging by a mere thread, snuck away into a place he didn't dare look.
The monitor began beeping frantically, in time with Kris' sinking heart. It threw it's fit at exactly 8:39 that morning. Kris knew this because he had been counting down the seconds, minutes, and hours on the little clock in the top left corner of the screen. His eyes flickered back to Zitao's closing ones, Zitao's closing mouth, Zitao's closing time. The wait was over. To be honest to himself, Kris had been waiting. That's all he had been doing here by his boy's bed. Waiting. Kris had been hoping that maybe, before Zitao died, he'd turn to the taller man and whisper "I love you", or "I'll see you again one day" or something sappy but memorable like that. Instead, Kris was bid farewell with a simple squeeze of the fingers from Zitao's fading hand. At first, Kris was satisfied, but soon it made him feel even worse. He would never again be able to hold Zitao's hand. But then again, he would have never been able to hear those words he wanted to hear, come from Zitao's lips again either.
The wake was first. Kris didn't like it, didn't want to be there, didn't understand the necessity of it. It pained him far too much to see Zitao's bluish form laying motionless in a coffin. It reminded him of the reality he was being faced with. The reality he didn't want, that he'd do anything to change. Even with comforting arms wrapped around his shoulders and waist, his friends, family, and acquaintances whispering into his ear that they were "sorry for his loss" and "everything was going to be just fine", he still felt lonely. Kris couldn't stand being in the room with everyone else, and dead Zitao, so he left. He went out into the garden of the funeral home, rain misting onto his cheeks as he stared gloomily into the distance. He gaze traveled across the asphalt path, past a grove of daffodils, and across a lake, to the never ending horizon. Yet, only never ending it seemed. Kris could not see the shore on the other side, but yet he knew there was one. When he was with Zitao, he couldn't imagine being without him, couldn't imagine there being an end to the horizon of their romance. But yet, there was. It had come, and Kris had not seen it coming, although as he thinks back, he should have.
The first bout of coughing had started a little over a month back. It started as just a tickle in the back of Zitao's throat, but it wasn't severe enough to stop Kris from wanting to kiss the younger everywhere his mouth could reach. Wrapped up in each other's arm, reeking of sweat, and over exerted passion, the hacking had ensued. Violent coughs erupting from the caverns of the boy's lungs. Kris decided it best to not be too intimate for a while, until the bacteria had cleared out. Zitao had reluctantly agreed. They began to make it a habit of drinking more water everyday, and consuming fresher foods so as not to provoke the sickness and make things any worse. Their plan seemed to work wonderfully, until Zitao began finding it hard to breath. He'd wake up in the middle of the night gasping for air and crying for the pain in his chest to stop. Kris, and he hates himself for it now, didn't think too much of it, convincing himself once again, it would simply go away. It was only when Zitao began coughing up splotches of his raw, red insides that Kris threw them both into their car and drove manically to the hospital.
Kris had thought the wake was awful, but he had no idea the pain that was going to be pushed upon him at the funeral. Most were weeping and those who weren't, were holding the ones who were. No one there understood what he was going through, what he had gone through, but they all pretended they did. They cried out fake droplets of selfishness onto their stark white dress shirts, and melancholy black lace dresses. Pats on the back and words of remorse spoken at the head of a church did not ease Kris' pain, nor did it bring back Zitao. Yet everyone believed it would. "He was a good boy. He liked to take walks alone on the beach, until he met a young man, and suddenly there were two trails of footprints in the sand." No. Well, yes, Kris thought. He had been a good boy, Zitao had been an marvelous boy. But to Kris, he was more than that. Zitao had understood Kris, all his little secrets, every quirky habit, and still loved him. Kris had returned the love everyday. Zitao had liked to take walks alone on the beach, and Kris thinks that might have been how they met, but of course he could not remember. He didn't exactly want to. As for the "and suddenly to there were two trails of footprints in the sand", it did not happen as "suddenly" as people think it did. Although Kris can not remember precisely how, he does remember that it took a lot of long nights and full days to grow the connection that he and Zitao had.
It's only now, when he's sitting beside the fountain, that Kris realizes he never said goodbye to Zitao. He never said the word "goodbye", but technically, his kiss to the cold, dead skin on his boy's forehead moments after he died counted as one. Kris' fingertips are now dusted with fragments of the stucco material the fountain's base is made out of. He stares at his fingers, noticing the deep pink color they are, and thinks back to how that color was the one that used to always stain Zitao's cheekbones and lips when he awoke beside Kris in bed every morning before now. The instant Zitao's feminine lashes left the skin on his upper face, Kris' lips would latch themselves to the other's soft, and usually still swollen ones. After a bit of fondling each others mouths, the couple would climb out of bed, ready for the day. Ready for whatever the light crawling past the glass of the window was going to toss at them. Kris and Zitao believed they could have tackled anything, until yesterday morning. Yesterday morning proved to Kris that perfect things must be broken so that nothing may be perfect.
Tonight, Chanyeol had promised to take him to Black Pearls for dinner. Chanyeol had interpreted Kris' silence as a subtle "yes, thank you" and that made Kris frustrated. He just wanted to be alone, to wallow in his misery and sort through the reality that he's been forced to face. Chanyeol thought otherwise though. Chanyeol thought that bringing Kris to a bar full of drunk chicks and flirtatious gays was just what he needed. Kris wanted to shout at Chanyeol "you're a dick, I don't want to be anywhere loud, anywhere that reminds me of Zitao" because Zitao loved Black Pearls, back when it was far classier than it is now. But Chanyeol was being firm about this, and so at 6:30 sharp, Kris was seated in a sticky, green plastic booth, being asked what he'd like to drink. "Water's fine" he had told the top heavy waitress, and she had nodded blandly before scribbling down Chanyeol's peach bellini request. "I know you don't want to be here, but you really do need something to take your mind off your sorrow" Chanyeol said, leaning in to place a hand sincerely on Kris'. It took his entire being not to use his free one to knock that cheesy smile right off of Chanyeol's thick head.
This wasn't the first time Kris had lost someone, and as he lay awake on the couch in Chanyeol's living room, against his better judgement, he submissively allowed the memories to wash over him. Back in college, Kris had been a bit of a jock. He was the captain of most of the teams, rugby, football, soccer, even the short lived tennis team. But his favorite, had been basketball. Something about the sound of squeaking sneakers and swishing baskets that made him genuinely happy. Kris didn't do all that well in the academic part of college, so being good at sports helped him get through. In the end, he ended up working as an advocate in a small real estate law firm in the city. But as a college athlete, it was necessary to have a girlfriend. By then, Kris knew his sexuality was geared more towards persons with junk in their pants rather than in tightly fitted shirts, and by this he means he was gay. Zhang Yixing, male, also Chinese, quite attractive, and into most of the things the female crowd were into, who better to be his arm candy? Being such a star player did have it's perks for Kris, one being that it was easy as wink, brush, peck to woo the beautiful Yixing into being his. Two, being that after a month of "love is love no matter what gender" and "god loves lovers, and that's what we are so how about you fuck off", the team had come to accept Kris' relationship with the science major, Yixing.
College ended all too fast for Kris. He dropped sports after his second year, realizing he didn't want to bounce a rubber ball around shiny floors for the rest of his life. So he had taken up law, and kept Yixing along for the change of ride. Too soon, Kris had his degree, and Yixing was ready to go out into the world to look for a position as a science teacher in a high school. Yixing wanted to move to Japan, and teach there, but that greatly conflicted with Kris' newfound dreams to work in a law firm in Seoul, where his other friends were venturing off too. Yixing wouldn't listen to his reason, and told Kris "if you don't love me enough to follow me to Japan, then I guess this is goodbye". Kris had never been broken up with before in this half of his life, but he could tell this is what it sounded like. With an "I love you Yixing, but if you can't respect my dreams then I guess it really is goodbye", he lost his first real love to the world. Unless some sad fate had befallen Yixing, Kris suspects he's probably happy teaching teens about atoms and showing them how to dissect frogs off in a classroom in Japan. Maybe every night he goes home to a significant other who loves him, loves him enough to follow him where he wants to go. The thought hurts Kris a little inside, and he pushes it away as reality returns home.
It's been half a month since Zitao died. In that time, Kris decided to move out of the condo he used to share with his now deceased husband. As he left, he touched the tacky wallpaper in their front foyer. Zitao loved birds, especially cardinals, and that's what had decorated the walls of their place because Kris had always been a sucker for Zitao's aegyo. The once vibrant red feathers off the painted bird were now a lighter shade, just like everything else in Kris' life. He let his bangs fall down in front of his eyes before he strode out, single suitcase in hand. Kris moved in with Sehun and Luhan, two buddies he's had since Grade 8. Now that the two were engaged, it was a little less than convenient for Kris to be moving in with them, but they pitied his situation and felt the need to take care of him for the time being. "We just want you to knows that we will always be here for you Kris" they had told him as they embraced him in unison. "Unless you die and leave me too" Kris uttered beneath his breath.
It's been one full month since Zitao died. Sehun and Luhan are still caring for Kris, and he's still working at the small law firm in the heart of Seoul. He still chats with Chanyeol through text, and occasionally skypes with Jongdae who's now in Canada studying plant life. Kris still wakes up every morning and turns on his side, but now all he sees is a coffee table piled impossibly high with fashion and home magazines. He doesn't wake up to Zitao's flushed face, and each morning it kills him. He still wears his wedding ring, but now it's on his right hand. He still lives, but he feels like now he's got no purpose to. Without Zitao, Kris feels empty, like he's lost everything. As cliche as it sounds, Zitao was his everything, he was Kris' reason for waking up in the morning, and going to sleep at night. Now that he's gone, Kris still wakes up, but not with the same ethusiam. Now that Zitao is gone, Kris still falls asleep, but not to the song of his lover's breathing, but to the tune of his own tears.
- omg first fic ever
- shit i like it
- i hope you like it
- probs not
- wut have i done