Frosting
Title: Frosting
Pairing(s): JunKwang
Rating: PG-13+
Word Count: 1,094
Summary: It’s not his fault that his wings were cut.
“Junhyung,” I hear Kikwang call thickly. I jump some, because I thought he was in bed. But I guess not.
I swish my pupils over to him swiftly, breaking away from the article on my desktop screen, yet only for a couple seconds. I adjust my glasses.
“What?” I ask.
“…There’s something that we gotta talk about.”
“We have to talk about it?”
“Yes, we.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
I sigh. He always wants to talk. Always, always wants to talk. There isn’t enough talking in the world. This man is so needy.
“I mean, this can’t wait? This story has to be posted by midnight. It’s a quarter till eleven, and I’m not even close to being done.”
“That’s beside the point right now. We need to talk.”
I sigh in my throat, which kind of makes the air flow through my nostrils.
“Oh so now we need to talk.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Fine. Start talking.”
“………Could you get off that thing for once?”
“I can listen to you and type at the same time.”
“I’d rather you not type and look at me while I speak to you.”
“Kiki why are you being so fucking difficult right now? Are you serious? You see I have to get this done, and now since it popped into your head in the middle of the night that you want to talk out of nowhere, you want me to stop what the fuck I’m doing and have my focus completely thrown on you. And for what, Kikwang? For wh-?”
Kikwang throws my cell phone to the hardwood floor beneath. It shatters into layers.
“KIKWANG.”
“Who’s ‘Danny?’” Kikwang asks me with a flat tone.
“KIKWANG ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?”
“Don’t do this. Don’t do this, Jun. Don’t ignore my question.”
“IGNORE YOUR QUESTION? YOU JUST DESTROYED MY $400 CELL PHONE LIKE IT WAS NOTHING. HOW THE FUCK IS ANYONE FROM THE PAPER GOING TO CONTACT ME?”
“Junhyung. I am going to ask you one more time in this same tone: Who is Danny, and why have I found suggestive text messages from you and him in your phone?”
I stop gathering the frayed shards of my dead cell. I slowly, slowly rise to my feet.
“…You went through my phone?”
“ Yes, Junhyung. Yes I did!”
“Are you… are you out of your fucking mind? My cell phone is my private, personal business and you had no right going through it!! And then you go on to break my shit? What the hell is wrong with you!?”
“THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT, JUN. WE ARE TO-GE-THER. WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE MAY OF LAST YEAR AND HERE I COME ACROSS THESE TEXT MESSAGES BETWEEN YOU AND SOME OTHER GUY. HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THAT TO ME?”
“THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN. AND I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA FROM THE BEGINNING.”
And I did. I told him not to get with me. To leave me alone. But he was like a loitering goose around a lake, and he did not listen to me when I told him that I was no good for him. He didn’t believe me, and now his feelings are hurt. But it’s not my fault. I tried to tell him.
I tried to tell him I was no good.
“Jun… you agreed to this relationship. You said you would at least try.”
“Yeah, I did, and I did try. And I failed. So what? I told you, Kikwang. I toooold you, but you didn’t listen.”
“Yeah because I loved you. And I thought it was going to be enough.”
“…”
“But I guess… not.”
“…”
“…Do you… do you at least feel bad?”
I shrug lightly, “Kind of.”
“‘Kind of?’”
“Yeah? ‘Cause I told you that this would happen. I warned you. So I don’t feel entirely bad about you being hurt. This is kind of on you.”
“‘On me?’”
“Yeah.”
Kikwang looks at me emptily. Then he chuckles. Then he laughs. Then he chuckles.
“Okay… Well, you and whoever the fuck this ‘Danny’ is can be together since I apparently was just a huge waste of your time.”
Kikwang turns away.
…
Kikwang turns around.
“Did you ever love me?” he asks.
I pause to think that question over and to gather my feelings.
“Yes. Yes I did.”
“‘Did,’ huh?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Kikwang smiles. And he turns away for the final time that night.
He’s gone in the morning. He never comes back.
…
I used to wonder why some people did the things that they did to other people. But I now know better than that. I know now not to attempt to rationalize human reasoning. How do you rationalize the irrational?
The old me is gone. My feathers are stuffed inside of the pillow that he rests his head on every night. Because the wings on my back were cut off long ago.
Everyone’s wings are cut at some point in their lives. Mine, probably a few years sooner than other’s normally are. Not with scissors,
no, not with scissors… and it was not as clean cut. My experience… it was more like he painstakingly stripped every one of my feathers away, handled my bones as if they were putty, and stripped them straight out of my back. He tugged and stopped, tugged and stopped, elongating the hellish experience. He used his bare hands; that’s what made the process so intimate. He wanted me to boil in my suffering. He wanted to break me. He did break me.
I am proof of that.
I am-though subconsciously-always scared, always on guard, always putting on a front. Now I’m strong. Now I don’t need anyone. I stand on my own.
That’s who I am now.
All people without wings are like that. We walk around with coal hugged by the holey walls of our hearts, we chew granite between our teeth, and our irises have faultless x-ray vision. We do not want to relive the pain-the memories-a second time. One time is more than enough. Some of us still know the flavor of the air the moment our wings were cut.
Though, it makes me wonder why we go through so many measures to keep the coal in our hearts kindled.
Our wings are already gone. What more could anyone take from us?
Once your wings are gone, there is nothing else for anyone to take.
Nothing.
You’re only good for cutting other people’s wings now.
Because you just don’t care anymore.
You just don’t care.
Pairing(s): JunKwang
Rating: PG-13+
Word Count: 1,094
Summary: It’s not his fault that his wings were cut.
“Junhyung,” I hear Kikwang call thickly. I jump some, because I thought he was in bed. But I guess not.
I swish my pupils over to him swiftly, breaking away from the article on my desktop screen, yet only for a couple seconds. I adjust my glasses.
“What?” I ask.
“…There’s something that we gotta talk about.”
“We have to talk about it?”
“Yes, we.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
I sigh. He always wants to talk. Always, always wants to talk. There isn’t enough talking in the world. This man is so needy.
“I mean, this can’t wait? This story has to be posted by midnight. It’s a quarter till eleven, and I’m not even close to being done.”
“That’s beside the point right now. We need to talk.”
I sigh in my throat, which kind of makes the air flow through my nostrils.
“Oh so now we need to talk.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Fine. Start talking.”
“………Could you get off that thing for once?”
“I can listen to you and type at the same time.”
“I’d rather you not type and look at me while I speak to you.”
“Kiki why are you being so fucking difficult right now? Are you serious? You see I have to get this done, and now since it popped into your head in the middle of the night that you want to talk out of nowhere, you want me to stop what the fuck I’m doing and have my focus completely thrown on you. And for what, Kikwang? For wh-?”
Kikwang throws my cell phone to the hardwood floor beneath. It shatters into layers.
“KIKWANG.”
“Who’s ‘Danny?’” Kikwang asks me with a flat tone.
“KIKWANG ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?”
“Don’t do this. Don’t do this, Jun. Don’t ignore my question.”
“IGNORE YOUR QUESTION? YOU JUST DESTROYED MY $400 CELL PHONE LIKE IT WAS NOTHING. HOW THE FUCK IS ANYONE FROM THE PAPER GOING TO CONTACT ME?”
“Junhyung. I am going to ask you one more time in this same tone: Who is Danny, and why have I found suggestive text messages from you and him in your phone?”
I stop gathering the frayed shards of my dead cell. I slowly, slowly rise to my feet.
“…You went through my phone?”
“ Yes, Junhyung. Yes I did!”
“Are you… are you out of your fucking mind? My cell phone is my private, personal business and you had no right going through it!! And then you go on to break my shit? What the hell is wrong with you!?”
“THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT, JUN. WE ARE TO-GE-THER. WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE MAY OF LAST YEAR AND HERE I COME ACROSS THESE TEXT MESSAGES BETWEEN YOU AND SOME OTHER GUY. HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THAT TO ME?”
“THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN. AND I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A BAD IDEA FROM THE BEGINNING.”
And I did. I told him not to get with me. To leave me alone. But he was like a loitering goose around a lake, and he did not listen to me when I told him that I was no good for him. He didn’t believe me, and now his feelings are hurt. But it’s not my fault. I tried to tell him.
I tried to tell him I was no good.
“Jun… you agreed to this relationship. You said you would at least try.”
“Yeah, I did, and I did try. And I failed. So what? I told you, Kikwang. I toooold you, but you didn’t listen.”
“Yeah because I loved you. And I thought it was going to be enough.”
“…”
“But I guess… not.”
“…”
“…Do you… do you at least feel bad?”
I shrug lightly, “Kind of.”
“‘Kind of?’”
“Yeah? ‘Cause I told you that this would happen. I warned you. So I don’t feel entirely bad about you being hurt. This is kind of on you.”
“‘On me?’”
“Yeah.”
Kikwang looks at me emptily. Then he chuckles. Then he laughs. Then he chuckles.
“Okay… Well, you and whoever the fuck this ‘Danny’ is can be together since I apparently was just a huge waste of your time.”
Kikwang turns away.
…
Kikwang turns around.
“Did you ever love me?” he asks.
I pause to think that question over and to gather my feelings.
“Yes. Yes I did.”
“‘Did,’ huh?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Kikwang smiles. And he turns away for the final time that night.
He’s gone in the morning. He never comes back.
…
I used to wonder why some people did the things that they did to other people. But I now know better than that. I know now not to attempt to rationalize human reasoning. How do you rationalize the irrational?
The old me is gone. My feathers are stuffed inside of the pillow that he rests his head on every night. Because the wings on my back were cut off long ago.
Everyone’s wings are cut at some point in their lives. Mine, probably a few years sooner than other’s normally are. Not with scissors,
no, not with scissors… and it was not as clean cut. My experience… it was more like he painstakingly stripped every one of my feathers away, handled my bones as if they were putty, and stripped them straight out of my back. He tugged and stopped, tugged and stopped, elongating the hellish experience. He used his bare hands; that’s what made the process so intimate. He wanted me to boil in my suffering. He wanted to break me. He did break me.
I am proof of that.
I am-though subconsciously-always scared, always on guard, always putting on a front. Now I’m strong. Now I don’t need anyone. I stand on my own.
That’s who I am now.
All people without wings are like that. We walk around with coal hugged by the holey walls of our hearts, we chew granite between our teeth, and our irises have faultless x-ray vision. We do not want to relive the pain-the memories-a second time. One time is more than enough. Some of us still know the flavor of the air the moment our wings were cut.
Though, it makes me wonder why we go through so many measures to keep the coal in our hearts kindled.
Our wings are already gone. What more could anyone take from us?
Once your wings are gone, there is nothing else for anyone to take.
Nothing.
You’re only good for cutting other people’s wings now.
Because you just don’t care anymore.
You just don’t care.