Language of Living
Title: Language of Living
Pairing: Kaisoo
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~8900
Warnings: [SPOILERS]: Character death
Summary: Kyungsoo lives on the edge. He lives on the edge between life and death. The edge made by a boy named Jongin.
- prompt fill for anon~
language of living
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
The cold wind pushes against his cheeks. The skin is raw and too red, dry flakes of dead skin threatening to go off with the wind. Thick white clouds fill the sky. It’s too cold out. Colder than the other days in the week. Even though it’s a Friday, it feels like a Monday morning.
His fingers are numb and he fumbles to pull out another cigarette out of the pack. He’s only finished the last one less than a minute ago but he wants another one. It takes about a minute to get the thin smoke out of the pack and into his mouth. The wind makes it hard to light, the flame blowing out only seconds after he flicks his thumb against the starter. After five tries, it finally lights and he takes his first breath.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
There isn’t anything particular he looks at while he smokes. He can see the tops of buildings from where he sits. Some of them still have snow dusted on the gray surfaces from the light snow shower on Wednesday. Normally, the snow would have melted. But it’s far too cold so the snow stays.
He watches a woman in her office in the building across. She has on a red pencil skirt and a white blouse. It’s too big for her and she adjusts the way the shirt tucks into her skirt three times before finally giving up. Her hair is done in a tight bun and it pulls her face up. Her eyebrows look as if they’re stuck in an up position and her eyes look bigger than normal. She looks as if she’s permanently scared. He laughs as she drops a large stack of papers all over the floor.
The wind picks up and his legs shiver. Kyungsoo attempts to warm himself by wrapping his arms around his chest. It doesn’t particularly work. The short hospital gown is nothing but a flimsy piece of cloth. He might as well be wearing nothing. The warm blood that was once sliding down his arm has now become cold and dry.
His feet have become blue. His toes unable to feel the cold cement under them. He thinks it’s okay though. He doesn’t like the feeling of it anyways. The wind picks up again and his cigarette blows out. Kyungsoo doesn’t have enough time to light it up again because he hears the door open and an array of footsteps.
--
The inside is too hot. Too busy and too noisy. There’s a jabbing in his hand still from where the nurse pushed the IV back in. Kyungsoo tells her he doesn’t need it anymore. He’s fine. But she doesn’t listen and pushes it into his vein. It only feels good for a moment before it turns into annoyance.
They give him a blanket. He thinks it’s a heated one since the warmth is far too much for an ordinary blanket. Kyungsoo waits until they leave before he pushes it to the edge of the bed. It’s useless. Besides, he’d rather be cold than hot. Cold is harsher.
They come in again and fix the blanket. They warn him not to push it off again. He might get hypothermia or whatever. Kyungsoo just because he wants them to leave. He waits a few seconds before pushing the blanket off again.
Kyungsoo’s never been one to heed to warnings. He doesn’t bother to look at warnings on medicine bottles. No point. If it was really that dangerous they wouldn’t sell it, he says. He doesn’t bother to listen to the doctors and his friends when they tell him to stop smoking. He certainly doesn’t care for that one. They’re pointless. And Kyungsoo likes to live on the edge. He always laughs when he says it. He’s unsure what kind of ledge he’s even on.
The doctor doesn’t come back for another hour or so. Kyungsoo is glad because he doesn’t bother to move the blanket again. His body temperature has gone up. Kyungsoo wants to say, ‘Fuck you’ to the nurse who kept putting the blanket back on him.
Kyungsoo sits up for the doctor to press a cold stethoscope to his back. He’s asked to take a breath. Kyungsoo breathes deeply before coughing and doubling over.
--
It’s Friday when Kyungsoo’s shoes step outside on the pavement. It’s Friday, three weeks later and he feels better, he guesses. It’s hard to tell. The weather isn’t any better and his cheeks return to the wind burned, red skin, like three Friday’s ago.
Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to read the no smoking sign as he lights up a cigarette. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat. Three cigarettes later and he’s in his car. One hangs from his lips as he exits the hospital parking lot. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five-- six, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
--
The bell rings above the door as Kyungsoo opens it. There aren’t many people in the shop. A couple of teenage girls looking at nutrition bars and drinks. An older man skimming over the newspaper in the corner. It’s almost midnight and he can smell the darkness from inside the shop. It smells like sharp cold and melted snow. He looks around and sees if anyone else can smell it.
“Give me a carton of the usual. Actually, make that two.” Kyungsoo pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. It’s full of little receipts from the last time he went out. There’s a gold credit card shimmering to the side. He pulls out the wad of bills instead.
The cartons are placed neatly on the counter. Kyungsoo holds the money out. He looks up when it’s not taken.
Sehun looks at him sadly. It’s the same sadness that Kyungsoo gets every time he comes into the shop. He looks at the small screen to the side of the case of lighters. The cartons haven’t even been rung up yet.
“Kyungsoo-”
“Can you just ring them up? I’m kind of in a hurry.”
He’s not but he doesn’t feel like listening to Sehun’s speech again. He thinks the way the boy’s voice sounds while he makes it is annoying. Too high pitched and whiney. Kyungsoo doesn’t like whiney people.
Sehun doesn’t say anything else and rings up the cigarettes. Kyungsoo tells him that he doesn’t need a bag but Sehun gives him one anyways. There’s still traces of blood on his hands and a bruise from where the nurse missed with the needle. It’s the last bit of money he has. It seems like Sehun knows and gives him back an extra dollar.
“Jongin’s looking for you.”
Kyungsoo nods. “I know.”
There’s a long silence between them. Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he hasn’t left the shop yet. Sehun doesn’t know either. Both of them stand, staring at different things. Kyungsoo stares at the way Sehun’s name is written on his name tag. It’s sloppy and looks as if a five year old had written it. It’s crooked on his shirt, which bugs Kyungsoo. He wonders how Sehun can stand it being that crooked.
“How are you?”
Kyungsoo knows the question well. He gets asked it multiple times from multiple places. It’s one of those questions that Kyungsoo can’t stand. He can’t stand a lot of questions, honestly. Why are your eyes so big? How tall are you? How old are you? Kyungsoo puts up the middle finger at each of them. It shouldn’t be anyone’s worry. Who cares how tall he is or how big his eyes are? They aren’t affecting anyone else but himself. So why do people keep asking how he is.
He doesn’t answer. Sehun looks as if he’s going to ask again, thinking Kyungsoo didn’t hear him. But Kyungsoo simply shrugs, not bothering to talk. He shouldn’t have to answer.
Sehun mutters something of an ‘I missed you,’ at least it’s what Kyungsoo thinks he says. He could have said a few other things. Kyungsoo nods.
--
It’s colder by the river. The wind seems to pick up and there’s ice on the ground. Kyungsoo steps over it carelessly. He likes the way the soles of his shoes slide across it. He stops to runs the heel of his foot back and forth. There’s a strong wind and he hits his foot on the ice, making it crack in more than one place.
No one is out, of course. It’s past one in the morning in the middle of winter. Anyone that would be spotted out would be labeled crazy. Kyungsoo grins to himself at the word. He thinks it fits well. He’s a lot more than crazy for walking along the river in the middle of winter after one in the morning. But if people ask, he’ll say the river was calling him. Let them think he’s even crazier.
It’s harder to breathe in the winter. The air is dry and tastes like metallic. It’s not good air to breathe. It makes his body feel weird. Filled with dry metal air that tastes stale. It also doesn’t do much for his nose either. Kyungsoo pulls out a tissue and stops walking so he can blow his nose. He balls up the tissue and sticks it back in his pocket.
Jongin’s body is resting against the hood of his car. His right leg is crossed over his left ankle, feet tapping against the ground. Kyungsoo knows that he’s cold. Jongin’s hands are shoved far down in his pockets, the top of his jacket looking stretched from the pressure.
Kyungsoo can see the way his lips twitch at the corners when their eyes meet. Jongin takes a breath and lets it out, the air turning into a smokey cloud. Kyungsoo reaches in his pocket for the already opened pack of cigarettes. There’s four gone and he pulls another out to make it five. He likes odd numbers better. He stops to light it before continuing towards Jongin.
He only gets to three when he coughs, making the smoke sputter out of his mouth in bursts. His hand brushes against his knee, fingers gripping at the tight jeans against his leg. A few deep breathes and another cough later, he’s fine.
Jongin hasn’t moved because he knows this Kyungsoo too well. He knows that if he comes over to help him, Kyungsoo will push him away. Kyungsoo doesn’t need help. He never has and never will. He’s not sick but he’s not well either. His mind is too lazy to pick a side. And he feels that he doesn’t need to. He can be in the middle.
Jongin smells different. Maybe Kyungsoo hasn’t been around enough for Jongin to smell like him anymore. He used to be able to smell his shampoo on Jongin’s neck. When he was around too much, he’d smell the smoke. Jongin always complained about it.
The first thing Jongin does is hug Kyungsoo. His arms are warm and inviting, the total opposite of how the weather feels wrapped around him. Jongin feels like summer while Kyungsoo still remains in winter.
Jongin smells like the laundry soap he uses. The clothes are freshly washed, most likely because Jongin knew Kyungsoo was coming home. He always washes all of his clothes before he does. Sometimes he says it’s because he likes to smell good. Other times he says so he has options incase they do something completely different. Kyungsoo smiles at the reasons. Though the real reason isn’t either of them.
The black Mercedes is warm inside. It’s almost too warm, almost hot. Kyungsoo feels as if he can breathe inside of it. He takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes.
--
Kyungsoo grips the back of the seat. His fingernails are piercing the leather. He knows that Jongin won’t notice the marks until weeks later. Kyungsoo’s nails dig deeper the more he moves, the feeling of Jongin’s hard dick inside him making pleasure run throughout his body.
Hips move and lift, dropping down and lift again in a perfect rhythm. When Kyungsoo lifts up and moves down, Jongin rolls and pushes up. Thighs slap against thighs, filling the car with more than just moans.
His whole body is sweaty. The back of his hair sticks to his neck and his bangs have been pushed back, threatening to fall back on his sweaty forehead. Kyungsoo almost slips as he rolls his hips, his own sweat mixing with Jongin’s. Jongin moans as Kyungsoo tightens his muscles around his cock.
Jongin’s hands grip Kyungsoo’s hips. The pace speeds up when Kyungsoo feels a tightening in his stomach. Jongin doesn’t have to wait for Kyungsoo to hiss at him and tell him to go faster. Jongin already knows and it trying his best not to let Kyungsoo fall off of him.
Kyungsoo finishes first. Streaks of white across Jongin’s black sweater. It’s painfully obvious against the fabric. He looses his train of thought when he feels Jongin tighten and his release filling him up.
They stay silent, bodies pressed up against each other. Jongin’s sweater feels good against Kyungsoo’s cool skin.
--
“I missed you.”
“I know.”
Kyungsoo takes a long drag of his cigarette. He blows the smoke out the window because he doesn’t want Jongin to complain about it. He doesn’t like whiney people. Jongin doesn’t say anything though. Maybe it’s because he missed him.
“I missed you too.”
Jongin smiles at the statement. It’s one of those genuine smiles that Kyungsoo swears he only keeps for him.
“The infection wasn’t as bad this time. I tried to get out earlier but the fuckers wouldn’t let me go.”
“They have a good reason, Kyungsoo. You could-”
“I could die, yeah, yeah I know all about it.”
Kyungsoo sucks in a breath, letting it out as he taps his cigarette against the edge of the car. He watches the ashes float down to the gravel of the parking space.
The window is rolled up after Kyungsoo finishes his third smoke. Jongin wants to keep the heat inside the car. Kyungsoo doesn’t protest. He likes being able to breathe in the warm air.
They sit in silence for a while. Probably about an hour, Kyungsoo thinks. The clock changes to quarter after three. Neither of them have anywhere to go in the morning so Kyungsoo doesn’t mind being out late.
Jongin most likely told his parents that he was staying over at someone’s house. One of his friends from school. Kyungsoo doesn’t really have an excuse. There’s no one waiting for him back at his apartment. Not even a cat. He could stay out until the sun rises and no one would wonder where he was. No one would lose sleep over worrying if he was hurt or if he was coming home. He didn’t have anyone like that. He’s almost thankful for it.
“Do you want to come over? You need sleep and your parents will get suspicious if you come home now.”
“Is it okay?”
Kyungsoo nods. Having Jongin around makes him be able to concentrate on something other than his thoughts.
It starts snowing a few minutes after they leave the river. Not a hard snow, a light one that’s hard to see unless he looks a certain way. The snowflakes are big. One of them that lands on the window is almost as big as the tip of his pinky finger. Kyungsoo places his finger against it and watches it melt against the glass.
Jongin has on his favorite music. He recognizes the artist and smiles to himself. Sometimes Kyungsoo imagines what his life would have been if he was a singer. He’d been told he had a good voice, one that would make others cry and cheer in happiness. It was told by his mother of course. It was one of the only good things she ever said to him.
Kyungsoo darling, she would say, please sing for me. He would comply. Little twelve year old Kyungsoo was a good child. He did everything he was asked. So he would sing to his mother on those late nights that his father was out.
He still remembers his mother’s face when he sang. It was the happiest she ever looked. There was still pain painted all over her worn face. Years of drugs and alcohol, wasting away her beautiful skin and face. Kyungsoo would sometimes cry about it. He wondered why his mother had to be like she was.
Soon he found out that his father wasn’t coming home. He had been gone for almost a week. Every night he would sing his mother asleep when he wouldn’t come home. Kyungsoo can still feel how his heart felt when they got the call his father had been murdered.
Kyungsoo doesn’t sing much anymore. It reminds him too much of his mother’s face. The way she would smile when he hit the high notes. The way her eyes actually looked alive. The way she cried the night they heard about his father and she begged him to sing to her. Kyungsoo sung his father’s favorite song. That was the last time he ever saw his mother smile.
--
The apartment is still how Kyungsoo left it. He doesn’t know why it wouldn’t be any other way. There’s a few dishes still in the sink and a pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room. Jongin offers to clean up but Kyungsoo shakes his head. He doesn’t like other people touching his things. Even dirty forgotten dishes and laundry that will take him a few days to do.
Kyungsoo pulls the bag of cigarette cartons out of his jacket. He rips each one open and dumps the packs on the coffee table. The open one in his pocket has already been emptied and he throws it away. The ashtray is moved closer when he slumps against the couch next to Jongin.
Jongin says something about getting a shower when Kyungsoo inhales for the first time. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to say anything to him because Jongin knows where the bathroom is. He watches the younger boy walk down the hallway before he exhale, the smoke clouding his vision.
Kyungsoo looks as his phone after he finishes his cigarette. There’s a few texts from friends. One from Yixing, one from Chanyeol and the rest from Jongin. Most of them are wishing him a happy birthday. ‘Happy birthday!’ they say. Each one filled with different amounts of exclamation points and a couple hearts. Kyungsoo almost forgot about his birthday. If it wasn’t for Jongin coming into the hospital with a bouquet of flowers, he would have skipped past it.
He had planned something for Jongin’s birthday. Not anything special. The two of them going to Jongin’s favorite restaurant for dinner and a night watching movies. When he had been rushed to the hospital, the plans were taken away from him. Kyungsoo sees the wrapped present sitting in the corner by his desk. It’s halfway wrapped, edges sticking out and tape sloppily put on the top of the box. To be honest, he’s already forgotten whats in the box.
Jongin smells of Kyungsoo as they lay down in the bed. Kyungsoo’s soap doesn’t have a particular smell. It’s not one that smells overly manly or one that smells too flowery. It just smells clean. For Kyungsoo, that’s what he smells like. He smells of clean thoughts and happiness. Sometimes even smells of laughs and smiles. Most of the time, Kyungsoo’s the only one that can smell it on himself.
Their fingers lace together slowly. Jongin’s hand is slightly bigger. The tips of his fingers above Kyungsoo’s. Jongin’s nails are perfectly cut, right above where his finger ends. Kyungsoo looks at his own fingernails. They’re chewed and down past where they should be. There’s a small speck of blood under what’s left of the white part of the nail. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind that his fingers are sore.
--
It’s warmer than yesterday. The air has moisture in it. There’s a few clouds and the forecast calls for more snow, heavier than last night. The birds that once sat on the railing are gone. They flew south for warmer weather, Kyungsoo thinks. He remembers seeing them fly across his window in the morning. They would create shadows against his curtains when the sun rose. They’ve been long gone. It’s not August anymore.
--
Kyungsoo’s fingers wrap around the mug filled with black coffee. ‘Why do you drink it like that?’ Jongin used to ask him. ‘Why not at cream and sugar? Black is too strong and it’ll give you a stomach ache.’ Kyungsoo laughs quietly to himself. ‘I don’t like things filled with unnecessary extras. If coffee was meant to be filled with fluff and smoothness, it would come like that,’ he’d say. Jongin would always shut up at that point.
Jongin left around ten. His mother called and told him he needed to come home. He collected his clothes while Kyungsoo laid half asleep in the bed, cigarette in hand. Jongin complains that his mother will yell at him for smelling of smoke. She might think he’s gone bad. He doesn’t ask to wash his clothes before, or even stick them in the dryer with a few softener sheets.
The only sound in his apartment is that of his labored breathing. Kyungsoo coughs as coffee goes down the wrong way. He sputters out the liquid. It lands on his arm and on his carpet. The mug drops and shatters as Kyungsoo clutches his chest. The last of the coffee spreads onto the hardwood. It flows through the carpet and sinks into the cracks of the floorboard. Kyungsoo coughs for a final time before reaching for his pack of cigarettes.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
The pack is almost empty when Kyungsoo decides to get up. It’s past noon and the sun is in it’s highest point. It’s not like it matters, really. He doesn’t know why he cares where the sun is. It’s just one of those things he’s learned. It has no meaning, yet he’s studied it anyways.
Not many people are out. It’s particularly empty for a Saturday afternoon. There is a few kids, running around in circles, attempting to play tag. They’re bundled in heavy coats and knit hats that cover their ears and foreheads. Kyungsoo looks down at his own light jacket. He can feel the wind on his ears and they turn red after a few minutes.
There isn’t anywhere he wants to go. Nothing peaks his interest. So he stands outside of the apartment building, back pressed against the brick, his shoulder blades digging into the worn red.
Several people pass by and bow at him. They smile, rosy cheeks expanding and cold breathes being seen in the air. Kyungsoo only nods, for if he tips forward into a bow, his cigarette will fall.
He finishes the last smoke in the pack. Kyungsoo pushes on the flimsy plastic, making it curl into itself before tossing it in a nearby trashcan. He knows he has several packs in his apartment, but he decides to walk to the store to buy another pack. It’s a way to spend time.
--
Sehun doesn’t work on the weekends. Even if he did, it wouldn’t be as early as one in the afternoon. He’d be asleep in his bed and probably is. Kyungsoo wanders around the small shop. He picks up a pack of gum. It’s the new cinnamon flavor of his favorite brand. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose up as he smells the gum through the pack. He carries it to the counter with him.
There’s an older woman behind the counter. Kyungsoo’s seen her only a couple times before. She’s got a scowl on her face. It pulls her already wrinkled skin down more, making her look at least a few years older. Kyungsoo wonders if she looks at herself before going out of the house. Her hair is dry and thin. There’s dark circles under her eyes indicating that she hadn’t gotten enough sleep for a few days. He ignores her question of asking how he is. She asks again but finally gets the message when Kyungsoo doesn’t respond for a second time.
The smokes taste different. Kyungsoo realizes after the first inhale. They aren’t as strong, not enough feeling comes from them. He looks at the package to realize that the woman gave him the light version instead of the regular. He curses to himself and shoves the pack back in his pocket. He doesn’t feel like dealing with another round of the woman.
Kyungsoo finishes the fifth cigarette when he sits down on the bench across from the river. His breath mixes with the smoke being pushed past his lips, making his vision more cloudy than normal. His left hand is shoved in his pocket. He doesn’t feel like dealing with two numb hands. If his right hand goes numb, at least he can still smoke with the left one. If both of them go numb, he has to wait until he gets home to smoke. He can’t wait that long.
He hears a familiar voice to the left. Kyungsoo tilts his head just enough to see where the voice is coming from. He sucks in a breath, taking in a drag as he does so. He holds for six seconds before letting it out.
Baekhyun walks alone. He has a large jacket that goes to right above his knees. It’s red in color and Kyungsoo thinks it looks good on him. Baekhyun has always looked good in red. His chin and mouth is covered by a black scarf. The fringed end flutters behind him against the back of his shoulder.
Kyungsoo watches as Baekhyun stops at a tree. He reaches his hand in his pocket and pulls out his phone. A large smile appears on his lips and seconds later, another boy comes into view. Kyungsoo sighs, the cigarette bobbing his mouth. Joonmyun walks close to Baekhyun. A black jacket with blue scarf and matching hat.
They walk past him slowly, the first slow steps being when they notice him. Baekhyun’s lips are pressed together tightly, his lips threatening to go down into a frown. Joonmyun says something to Baekhyun but Kyungsoo doesn’t hear it. Kyungsoo only taps his cigarette against the bench as they leave his vision.
He’s happy to see that they’re doing well. Kyungsoo doesn’t remember the last time he talked to Joonmyun or Baekhyun for that matter. Was it the first time he went to the hospital? No, no. It was later. Perhaps the third or fourth. At least a year. He’s surprised they still remember him. Kyungsoo’s sure he looks different.
Sometimes he wishes Baekhyun and Joonmyun were still around. He liked the way they talked. Joonmyun was always calm and had good things to say. Words of wisdom, Kyungsoo used to call them. Joonmyun would always laugh and shake his head, saying that they’re simply the truth. Baekhyun would tell jokes and make Kyungsoo laugh. Though he stops joking as much when Kyungsoo had his first coughing fit in front of them. Baekhyun resorted to regular conversations then, even though Kyungsoo told him it was fine.
Kyungsoo has several horrible traits though. One of them is pushing people away. Perhaps it’s a habit more than a trait. But then he thinks that he’s seen his family do it multiple times and thinks that it’s most likely a trait. One of the horrible ones that people always warn the parents about when they get pregnant. He thinks how horrible it must be to hear that your child will be an asshole.
The last cigarette is placed between his lips at half past four. Kyungsoo hears his stomach rumble. He sighs to himself before pushing his body off the bench. The back of his legs is numb and they feel wet. He looks down to make sure there aren’t any marks, though no one would be able to see them on his black pants.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale.
--
Jongin’s hand runs down Kyungsoo’s side. His fingers are warm from holding the cup of hot chocolate. They make his skin rise into goosebumps and his muscles twitch. It feels good. Jongin’s touch always feels good.
It’s stopped snowing outside, the ground fully covered in a thick blanket of pure white. Jongin jokes about it being the color of Kyungsoo’s skin. Kyungsoo laughs then coughs a few times. Jongin’s hand is on his chest and his fingers curl against his cool skin.
It always snows more in February.
--
The lights are too bright against his eyes. Kyungsoo puts his arm over them, hoping to relieve some of the stinging he feels. It works only for a moment before he hears his name being called.
“What?” It’s spit out like fire, somewhat intention, somewhat not.
“Please lower your hand, you’re going to pull the IV out.”
Kyungsoo lowers his hand slowly, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to adjust to the lights. He can see the doctor’s annoying white jacket, making the lights seem even brighter.
They perform the normal tests on him. The cold stethoscope is pressed against his bare back and chest. Breathe in, breathe out. It always results in a coughing fit. The doctors watch him as a few drops of blood land on the white blanket.
The IV bag is changed to something different. Clear still in color but Kyungsoo can feel the difference. For a few seconds it numbs his body, something Kyungsoo enjoys. He wonders if the doctors have forgotten that he’s only going to pull it out when they leave.
--
“The flowers by my house are beginning to bloom now.”
Kyungsoo chews on the sandwich in his hands. He nods towards Jongin, who has his elbows on the table that’s been put next to Kyungsoo’s bed.
“You know, the ones that are yellow and white? Those ones.”
“Have you planted the blue ones you wanted to yet?”
“No, it’s best to wait until it’s almost May for that. So they can live through the summer.”
Kyungsoo looks at the calendar that rests on the other table to his right. There’s only two weeks left in April.
--
Sehun’s leaned over the counter when Kyungsoo enters. He’s on his phone, like he has been each time Kyungsoo walks in. There’s a smile on his lips as his fingers quickly tap at the onscreen keyboard.
No one else is in the store. He stands alone next to the candy. Kyungsoo reaches up and grabs a bag of M&M’s. Not the one with the peanuts, the normal kind. He hates the peanut kind. It jiggles around in his hands as he walks to the counter.
“Three cartons. Normal.”
Sehun makes a quiet groan as he leans up to pull down the cartons. He watches Kyungsoo out of the corner of his eyes. Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t see, but he does. He always looks at the way people watch him.
“You’ve gone up.” Sehun says as he rings the cartons up slowly. Each beep of the scanner lasts at least three seconds. Kyungsoo counts each time. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Kyungsoo takes his time getting the bag. He looks at Sehun. He looks at the way he’s dressed; chic and simple. His hair is in perfect position and his eyeliner is done just right. His name tag is even on correctly this time. Sehun’s phone rings and he smiles as he puts it up to his ear.
It’s far too dark outside. Kyungsoo’s phone reads ten thirty. There’s no trace of the moon and Kyungsoo thinks it’s because of the clouds that are still in the sky. The thunderstorms had only ended about an hour ago and the clouds always stick around for a while afterwards. It’s lonely without the moon and stars, he thinks.
--
“Please take it.”
Kyungsoo stares at the white pill in Jongin’s hand. He shakes his head and answers, “No.”
--
He sits at the dining room table alone. His fingers tap against the wood, making no pattern in particular. The sound gets louder and the speed becomes faster depending on the breaths that he takes. The hard ones make the tapping become louder. He’s scared if he doesn’t make noise, he won’t stay awake.
His head feels light and his body is tense. The pain in his chest is more than usual. It takes thirteen deep breaths before he feels as if he can breathe again. Kyungsoo’s fingers slide off the table as he stands up.
The alcohol in the cabinets above the stove is gone. Kyungsoo searches the other cabinets slowly, hoping to find his bottle of vodka or any kind of liquor. He finds none. Jongin’s taken it away because Kyungsoo can’t hold down his alcohol. He drinks too much too fast. He remembers going to the hospital several times to have his stomach pumped. Jongin keeps it away.
Kyungsoo grabs his coat from the couch and slips on his shoes as he walks out of his apartment. The cold night air pushes against him when he steps outside. It’s the beginnings of summer but the nights are still colder than he’d like them to be. The air is no longer dry and Kyungsoo can breathe.
The man at the counter asks for Kyungsoo’s ID. He obviously still looks younger than nineteen. Kyungsoo checks his wallet, pressing his lips together when he realizes that his license isn’t with him. The man gives him a dirty look before setting the six pack of beer under the counter.
Kyungsoo checks the security cameras as he runs his fingers over a pack of gum. One right in front of the alcohol and one to the right. He pulls his hood up, enough to make only his red bangs hang out from under the material.
The beer fits nicely between his chest and the jacket. He’s entered from the right and leaves to the left. The man at the counter shouts at him but Kyungsoo opens the door and runs out. His hood falls down when he’s past the store, letting his red hair tumble against his skin. Kyungsoo runs until he can’t breathe. His body slumps against a tree, chest heaving and high pitched gasps coming from his throat.
--
Jongin answers the door. Kyungsoo is glad because if it was Jongin’s parents, the situation would be much worse. Jongin’s hair is pushed up in the back and he stands with his weight on one leg. His fingers wrap around the edge of the door as he looks at Kyungsoo.
“Kyungsoo.. what are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”
He doesn’t answer either question because he’s well aware of both of the answers. Kyungsoo stumbles forward and wraps his arms around Jongin’s waist. He can feel the tank top brushing against his hip. It feels soft and warm, unlike his own clothes.
Kyungsoo doesn’t loosen his arms when Jongin tries to pull away. Jongin smells nice, Kyungsoo thinks. Somewhat like him and somewhat like his own person. He takes a breath against Jongin’s chest.
“I wanted to make sure you’re still here.”
--
The bottle of pills is thrown at him in the bed. Jongin shuts the door behind him, a glass of water in his hand. Kyungsoo sits up from his laying position and looks at the bottle. It’s the antibiotics that the doctor had prescribed him. Kyungsoo shakes his head and holds the bottle out towards Jongin.
Jongin doesn’t come to take it like he normally does. Jongin stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a frown on his lips. “Take one.”
“No.”
“Please, Kyungsoo.”
Jongin’s voice is desperate. Kyungsoo looks up to meet the other’s eyes. “I don’t need them.”
Kyungsoo’s head turns as a hard slap hits his cheek. His expression doesn’t change when he looks up at Jongin again. “Take them, dammit!”
His back hits the wall, making him groan in pain. He takes a few quick breaths, unsure if he can breathe or not. Jongin punches him in the jaw. Kyungsoo can taste blood on his lips as his tongue swipes across them.
There’s a kick to his groin and Kyungsoo slides down to the ground. His hands clutch at his stomach. He sucks in a breath before coughing. He coughs until he throws up on the floor.
“Please take the medicine. Please, Kyungsoo.”
Jongin leans down and pushes Kyungsoo’s hair back. It feels the same as every time he does it. Kyungsoo only shakes his head and whispers no.
--
The river is better during the sunset in the summer. Birds and dragonflies hover above the water, their shadows in the ripples of the gentle waves. The sun is a dark orange, one that looks as if it comes from a movie. Kyungsoo laughs to himself because sometimes he thinks he’s actually in a movie. I’d like that better, he thinks.
The cigarette is put out in the ashtray that sits in the cup holder. It’s half full of discarded ends of cigarettes and dunes of ashes. Kyungsoo blows out the smoke he’s been keeping between his lips. It blows out into the summer air, disappearing after a few seconds.
“You should stop smoking. I bet your body would fight off infections easier. Not to mention, smoking is bad for your health.”
Kyungsoo sucks in a breath, letting it out as a cough. He feels Jongin’s hand against his back as he continues to cough. He catches his breath a few minutes later.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Why? Because you’re addicted? You know there’s lots of programs and I know a couple people that have overcome their addictions.”
Nicotine fills his lungs and blood. About a hundred other different drugs that Kyungsoo can’t name make his body feel numb. He can’t breathe for a moment and his eyes widen. He still isn’t used to the way the first inhale feels. His mind goes blank before the rush of thoughts come back to him.
Jongin sits with his legs crossed and seat pushed back so his legs can stretch out. His fingers tap along the edge of his pocket on his shorts.
“I like to smoke.” Kyungsoo shrugs as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He notes that there’s only three left, barely enough to last him until he returns home. “It calms me.”
“But it’s also killing you. The more you smoke, the more the infections come back. Not to mention you don’t even take the medicine the hospital gives you. Kyungsoo, you’re throwing your life away.”
Kyungsoo wonders how his parents felt when the doctor told them that their child was going to be an asshole. One with the push-everyone-he-cares-for-away trait. It’s a fucking awful trait. But he wonders how it feels to have a son with two awful traits. Do Kyungsoo is also a hypocrite. He pushes the people he cares for away. Pushes his own life away, even. Yet he still expects people to be there for him.
--
Kyungsoo remembers the first time he realized his life.
It was a summer night. One with cool air and a gentle breeze that would come every now and then to blow at his bangs. It was the perfect weather, really. He walked down the sidewalk alone. He had an IPod in one hand, only one headphone being put in. ‘Never walk with both earbuds in,’ his mother would tell him before he would go out. Kyungsoo always listened.
The sun hadn’t gone down yet but the sky told him that it was going to soon. The tops of the trees glowing a bright orange with small streaks of pink in it.
Kyungsoo saw a few of his school friends. He would wave to them and they would wave back. Most of them had buzzed heads and clothes that were too big for them. Rips and tears would line the sides of their bodies and even at the collars. Kyungsoo would always feel insecure about his own clothing. It was neat and clean, unlike the others. The other children would make fun of him for the way he dressed.
He walked until he reached the edge of his neighborhood. Kyungsoo knew that he wasn’t allowed past the signs that had the neighborhood name printed in faded white paint. He turned around, changing the song on his IPod before beginning to walk home.
When he reached the curve going towards his house, he heard shouting. Kyungsoo turned down his music as he got closer. He could hear a woman and a man yelling at each other, something about a third man. As if on cue, a third voice came in, a much harsher and deeper one.
The scene happened quickly in front of him. The third man with the deeper voice hit the second man in the face. They fought for a few minutes, hands and legs going into different body parts. The larger man slammed the smaller one on the gravel. Kyungsoo could see bits of blood landing on the black surface from where he was standing.
The woman was shouting and had her hands clutched in her dark hair. Kyungsoo watched as the third man pulled out a gun, pointing it to the man on the ground and pulling the trigger.
Kyungsoo ran home as fast as he could. His shoelaces came untied at one point, making him trip and fall onto the sidewalk. Kyungsoo groaned as he rubbed the small cut on his cheek, the blood staining his pale skin. He brushed the dirt off quickly, afraid that if he stood still for too long, the man would come after him. Somehow find him and pull that gun out at him too.
It was the first time Kyungsoo saw his mother doing her drugs. When Kyungsoo opened her bedroom door to tell her what he had saw, his mother was bent over the table, her nose pressed against a line of white powder. Kyungsoo watched in silence as the white line disappeared. His mother looked at him with a smile. She didn’t notice the tears that were running down his cheeks.
Everything changed after that. Kyungsoo refused to leave the house unless he was with his father. When his mother did send him out alone, he would always look around him several times, paranoid that someone would be following him.
His mother’s attitude got worse. She would scream and throw things at Kyungsoo when he didn’t do all the dishes by the time she came home. Then she would cry at night and ask Kyungsoo to sing to her. Kyungsoo walked hesitantly to her when she laid down in her bed. He sung for her until she fell asleep. Kyungsoo would pull the blanket over her and turn off the lights when he was done.
Occasionally, he would borrow a cigarette from one of his neighbors. It was always the strong kind. The one that would make his lungs burn even more than they already did. It was the first time he went to the hospital for an infection. He stayed for almost a month, getting antibiotics right into his system to fight off the infection. The doctors prescribed him more antibiotics to take at home for a few weeks. But his family didn’t have enough money for them. So his mother would crumple up the paper and throw it away.
Kyungsoo saw over a dozen people get killed. Each one a different way. One woman got killed for cheating on her husband. Another one killed for not being able to pay for the amount of drugs he was sold. Each person had their own story. But each one was tragic. Each one making another dent in Kyungsoo’s mind.
--
“Did I ever tell you about the first time I smoked?”
Jongin turns his head from the couch. He sits up slowly, his shoes making a tap against the tiled floor. “No. You didn’t.”
Kyungsoo looks up at the ceiling. There’s only one light on, the white glow lighting the room up from the middle outwards. Kyungsoo’s glad that they turned the lights down. He doesn’t like the way they make his eyes feel. He takes the oxygen mask off his face as he laughs.
“I was thirteen.” Kyungsoo gasps, his breaths labored and high pitched. “Kid next door offered me one when I walked past. Said it would make me feel good.”
“Did it?”
Jongin moves to the side of the bed, his knees pressing against the hard floor. Kyungsoo shakes his head and laughs again, putting the mask back on his mouth to breathe again.
“Of course not. I thought I was dying.”
“Do you still feel like that when you smoke?”
He blinks slowly, letting the world go dark then come back to life. Kyungsoo shakes his head, his lips curling up into a smile. “No. It feels like I’m living.”
--
Kyungsoo likes to live on the edge. An edge of something he’s not sure of. He thinks that the edge of what he’s standing on changes every now and then. Sometimes he’s on the edge of death. Other times he’s on the edge of life and happiness. Most of the time though, he’s on the edge of fear.
He finishes the last pack of smokes in the carton. He has another one, of course, but he doesn’t feel up to walking over and getting it. So he takes his time smoking. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, seconds.
Quitting had come to his mind once before. He was drunk beyond any time before. He would laugh and clutch his stomach as he coughed. Kyungsoo vaguely remembers Jongin’s hands on his chest.
It was the first time Kyungsoo and Jongin had sex. Kyungsoo was seventeen and Jongin was sixteen. They were celebrating their birthday’s together. It was just the two of them in Jongin’s basement. Kyungsoo kissed Jongin first. It was a hot, desperate kiss. He kissed Jongin over and over again until the other kissed back.
Things moved fast and Kyungsoo felt that his body was on fire from the way Jongin’s touches felt against his skin. The way his hands slid down his thin frame and over his hips. He would arch his back and moan Jongin’s name, the ending of it turning into a cough. Jongin would ask if he was okay. Kyungsoo always said yes because he didn’t want Jongin to stop. If he stopped, he might not be okay.
They met everyday when Jongin returned home from school. Occasionally they would go to Jongin’s house but most of the time they would go to the river. Kyungsoo would stretch out on the blanket, toes wiggling against the soft fabric. Jongin would lean back on his elbows and look up at the sky.
“Why don’t you stop smoking? It’s not good for your health.” Jongin would say to him.
Kyungsoo would blow the smoke out in front of him, watching as it made rings from the way his lips moved. Jongin was the first one to care about his health. Kyungsoo would shrug and say, “I don’t want to. It feels good to smoke.”
“It feels good to smoke.” Kyungsoo says as he takes the last drag of his cigarette. “Feels like I’m living.”
Jongin only looks at him as he sits down next to him on the couch. Kyungsoo can barely hear the way he says, ‘I love you, please stop.’
--
Sehun knocks on the door on Tuesday. It’s right after noon when the sun is in the highest point in the sky. Kyungsoo grabs the cigarette out of his mouth and puts it between two fingers as he opens the door.
“He got in a car crash. It’s--things aren’t good, Kyungsoo.”
--
Kyungsoo watches the way Jongin’s heart beats on the monitor. There’s perfect pauses between each beat and his breaths sound normal. Kyungsoo for once doesn’t listen to his own breathing.
It’s different, not being in the hospital for himself. The doctors don’t bug him about the way he always pulls out the IV and gets blood everywhere. They don’t come and pull the blanket up every time they walk in, saying he’ll get too cold. They only tell him things about Jongin.
--
Jongin wakes up on the fourth day that Kyungsoo sleeps on the couch. Kyungsoo wakes up to Jongin calling his name. It’s quiet and his voice raspy, but it’s Jongin. So Kyungsoo answers.
“Are you okay?”
Kyungsoo scrunches his nose up. “You’re not really in any position to ask me how I’m doing.”
Jongin laughs and reaches his hand out to grab Kyungsoo’s. Their fingers intertwine and Jongin grips his hand tightly.
He doesn’t know how long they hold hands. Kyungsoo has to sit because he gets out of breath easily and standing is too much effort. Jongin’s thumb rubs against the side of Kyungsoo’s skin. Their skin is becoming dry from the weather. October comes too fast and the cold air begins to return.
Kyungsoo knows that it’ll soon be his turn to sit where Jongin does. He always gets bad infections in the winter.
--
“Why do you keep smoking? Don’t you care that your life is shortened? You could die the next time you get an infection.”
“It makes me feel good.”
“You say that every time.”
“It’s true.”
“Why?”
“Because, cigarettes can’t harm you.”
“Yes they can.”
“Not the way I’m thinking of.”
Jongin opens his eyes and looks at Kyungsoo. The eyes that were once full of life are now dull and almost always brimming with tears.
“Cigarettes can’t yell at you when you come home late after the curfew. They can’t tell you that you’re useless. They only tell you the things you want to hear. Cigarettes don’t love so they can never stop loving you. They won’t ever leave.”
“Do you think I’ll leave you?”
Kyungsoo laughs as he sucks in a sharp breath. “They all leave.”
--
Kyungsoo fixes his tie in the mirror of his bathroom. The ashes from the cigarette drop onto his jacket, making him curse in anger. He quickly brushes them off before they can leave white and gray streaks against the black.
Baekhyun and Joonmyun sit in front of him. Sehun is to the left of him, a small wrapped box in hand. Kyungsoo plays with the bottom of his jacket to keep his mind off the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
When it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to go up, he grabs the badly wrapped box that had been forgotten for more than a year. It’s still badly wrapped, the corners sticking up and tape lazily put on the top, holding the wrapping paper together. Kyungsoo’s all but forgotten what’s inside. It was only when he sat in silence did he remember what was inside.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
“Hey.”
Kyungsoo looks up to see Sehun walking towards him. The black suit is too small for him. It comes up on his ankles and Kyungsoo can see where it’s too tight around his shoulders and upper arms.
“Hey.” he says between slow puffs of smoke out of his mouth.
“What was in that box?”
Another cigarette is pressed between his lips. The wind makes it hard to light it. Kyungsoo tries three times before it finally lights. He laughs as he kicks his foot at the ground.
“A promise to stop smoking.”
--
Kyungsoo looks at the bottle of antibiotics the pharmacist hands him. It’s large, like all the other discarded ones. Twenty-eight pills, the label reads. Enough for three weeks. Kyungsoo bows as he walks out of the drugstore.
The pills are hard to swallow and it takes him a few times before it goes down. Kyungsoo lays down in bed as the pills begin to kick in. It doesn’t take long. Kyungsoo feels something different. For once, Kyungsoo lets himself cry. He cries for hours, everything crashing down on him at once.
--
Kyungsoo likes to live on the edge. An edge of something he’s was once not sure of. He used to live on the edge in the middle of life and death. He was in a middle ground. A ground without a name. Now he realizes where he’s been the whole time. He’s been on the edge of love. The edge of Jongin. He keeps him in the middle. Saving him from death but allowing Kyungsoo to find his own life.
As Kyungsoo throws away the cartons of smokes, he jumps off the edge. He lands in the arms of Jongin.
-angsty kaisoo is the best kaisoo
-I added some characters just to make things smooth, i hope it's okay! ♥
Pairing: Kaisoo
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~8900
Warnings: [SPOILERS]: Character death
Summary: Kyungsoo lives on the edge. He lives on the edge between life and death. The edge made by a boy named Jongin.
- prompt fill for anon~
language of living
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
The cold wind pushes against his cheeks. The skin is raw and too red, dry flakes of dead skin threatening to go off with the wind. Thick white clouds fill the sky. It’s too cold out. Colder than the other days in the week. Even though it’s a Friday, it feels like a Monday morning.
His fingers are numb and he fumbles to pull out another cigarette out of the pack. He’s only finished the last one less than a minute ago but he wants another one. It takes about a minute to get the thin smoke out of the pack and into his mouth. The wind makes it hard to light, the flame blowing out only seconds after he flicks his thumb against the starter. After five tries, it finally lights and he takes his first breath.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
There isn’t anything particular he looks at while he smokes. He can see the tops of buildings from where he sits. Some of them still have snow dusted on the gray surfaces from the light snow shower on Wednesday. Normally, the snow would have melted. But it’s far too cold so the snow stays.
He watches a woman in her office in the building across. She has on a red pencil skirt and a white blouse. It’s too big for her and she adjusts the way the shirt tucks into her skirt three times before finally giving up. Her hair is done in a tight bun and it pulls her face up. Her eyebrows look as if they’re stuck in an up position and her eyes look bigger than normal. She looks as if she’s permanently scared. He laughs as she drops a large stack of papers all over the floor.
The wind picks up and his legs shiver. Kyungsoo attempts to warm himself by wrapping his arms around his chest. It doesn’t particularly work. The short hospital gown is nothing but a flimsy piece of cloth. He might as well be wearing nothing. The warm blood that was once sliding down his arm has now become cold and dry.
His feet have become blue. His toes unable to feel the cold cement under them. He thinks it’s okay though. He doesn’t like the feeling of it anyways. The wind picks up again and his cigarette blows out. Kyungsoo doesn’t have enough time to light it up again because he hears the door open and an array of footsteps.
--
The inside is too hot. Too busy and too noisy. There’s a jabbing in his hand still from where the nurse pushed the IV back in. Kyungsoo tells her he doesn’t need it anymore. He’s fine. But she doesn’t listen and pushes it into his vein. It only feels good for a moment before it turns into annoyance.
They give him a blanket. He thinks it’s a heated one since the warmth is far too much for an ordinary blanket. Kyungsoo waits until they leave before he pushes it to the edge of the bed. It’s useless. Besides, he’d rather be cold than hot. Cold is harsher.
They come in again and fix the blanket. They warn him not to push it off again. He might get hypothermia or whatever. Kyungsoo just because he wants them to leave. He waits a few seconds before pushing the blanket off again.
Kyungsoo’s never been one to heed to warnings. He doesn’t bother to look at warnings on medicine bottles. No point. If it was really that dangerous they wouldn’t sell it, he says. He doesn’t bother to listen to the doctors and his friends when they tell him to stop smoking. He certainly doesn’t care for that one. They’re pointless. And Kyungsoo likes to live on the edge. He always laughs when he says it. He’s unsure what kind of ledge he’s even on.
The doctor doesn’t come back for another hour or so. Kyungsoo is glad because he doesn’t bother to move the blanket again. His body temperature has gone up. Kyungsoo wants to say, ‘Fuck you’ to the nurse who kept putting the blanket back on him.
Kyungsoo sits up for the doctor to press a cold stethoscope to his back. He’s asked to take a breath. Kyungsoo breathes deeply before coughing and doubling over.
--
It’s Friday when Kyungsoo’s shoes step outside on the pavement. It’s Friday, three weeks later and he feels better, he guesses. It’s hard to tell. The weather isn’t any better and his cheeks return to the wind burned, red skin, like three Friday’s ago.
Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to read the no smoking sign as he lights up a cigarette. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat. Three cigarettes later and he’s in his car. One hangs from his lips as he exits the hospital parking lot. Inhale. One, two, three, four, five-- six, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
--
The bell rings above the door as Kyungsoo opens it. There aren’t many people in the shop. A couple of teenage girls looking at nutrition bars and drinks. An older man skimming over the newspaper in the corner. It’s almost midnight and he can smell the darkness from inside the shop. It smells like sharp cold and melted snow. He looks around and sees if anyone else can smell it.
“Give me a carton of the usual. Actually, make that two.” Kyungsoo pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. It’s full of little receipts from the last time he went out. There’s a gold credit card shimmering to the side. He pulls out the wad of bills instead.
The cartons are placed neatly on the counter. Kyungsoo holds the money out. He looks up when it’s not taken.
Sehun looks at him sadly. It’s the same sadness that Kyungsoo gets every time he comes into the shop. He looks at the small screen to the side of the case of lighters. The cartons haven’t even been rung up yet.
“Kyungsoo-”
“Can you just ring them up? I’m kind of in a hurry.”
He’s not but he doesn’t feel like listening to Sehun’s speech again. He thinks the way the boy’s voice sounds while he makes it is annoying. Too high pitched and whiney. Kyungsoo doesn’t like whiney people.
Sehun doesn’t say anything else and rings up the cigarettes. Kyungsoo tells him that he doesn’t need a bag but Sehun gives him one anyways. There’s still traces of blood on his hands and a bruise from where the nurse missed with the needle. It’s the last bit of money he has. It seems like Sehun knows and gives him back an extra dollar.
“Jongin’s looking for you.”
Kyungsoo nods. “I know.”
There’s a long silence between them. Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he hasn’t left the shop yet. Sehun doesn’t know either. Both of them stand, staring at different things. Kyungsoo stares at the way Sehun’s name is written on his name tag. It’s sloppy and looks as if a five year old had written it. It’s crooked on his shirt, which bugs Kyungsoo. He wonders how Sehun can stand it being that crooked.
“How are you?”
Kyungsoo knows the question well. He gets asked it multiple times from multiple places. It’s one of those questions that Kyungsoo can’t stand. He can’t stand a lot of questions, honestly. Why are your eyes so big? How tall are you? How old are you? Kyungsoo puts up the middle finger at each of them. It shouldn’t be anyone’s worry. Who cares how tall he is or how big his eyes are? They aren’t affecting anyone else but himself. So why do people keep asking how he is.
He doesn’t answer. Sehun looks as if he’s going to ask again, thinking Kyungsoo didn’t hear him. But Kyungsoo simply shrugs, not bothering to talk. He shouldn’t have to answer.
Sehun mutters something of an ‘I missed you,’ at least it’s what Kyungsoo thinks he says. He could have said a few other things. Kyungsoo nods.
--
It’s colder by the river. The wind seems to pick up and there’s ice on the ground. Kyungsoo steps over it carelessly. He likes the way the soles of his shoes slide across it. He stops to runs the heel of his foot back and forth. There’s a strong wind and he hits his foot on the ice, making it crack in more than one place.
No one is out, of course. It’s past one in the morning in the middle of winter. Anyone that would be spotted out would be labeled crazy. Kyungsoo grins to himself at the word. He thinks it fits well. He’s a lot more than crazy for walking along the river in the middle of winter after one in the morning. But if people ask, he’ll say the river was calling him. Let them think he’s even crazier.
It’s harder to breathe in the winter. The air is dry and tastes like metallic. It’s not good air to breathe. It makes his body feel weird. Filled with dry metal air that tastes stale. It also doesn’t do much for his nose either. Kyungsoo pulls out a tissue and stops walking so he can blow his nose. He balls up the tissue and sticks it back in his pocket.
Jongin’s body is resting against the hood of his car. His right leg is crossed over his left ankle, feet tapping against the ground. Kyungsoo knows that he’s cold. Jongin’s hands are shoved far down in his pockets, the top of his jacket looking stretched from the pressure.
Kyungsoo can see the way his lips twitch at the corners when their eyes meet. Jongin takes a breath and lets it out, the air turning into a smokey cloud. Kyungsoo reaches in his pocket for the already opened pack of cigarettes. There’s four gone and he pulls another out to make it five. He likes odd numbers better. He stops to light it before continuing towards Jongin.
He only gets to three when he coughs, making the smoke sputter out of his mouth in bursts. His hand brushes against his knee, fingers gripping at the tight jeans against his leg. A few deep breathes and another cough later, he’s fine.
Jongin hasn’t moved because he knows this Kyungsoo too well. He knows that if he comes over to help him, Kyungsoo will push him away. Kyungsoo doesn’t need help. He never has and never will. He’s not sick but he’s not well either. His mind is too lazy to pick a side. And he feels that he doesn’t need to. He can be in the middle.
Jongin smells different. Maybe Kyungsoo hasn’t been around enough for Jongin to smell like him anymore. He used to be able to smell his shampoo on Jongin’s neck. When he was around too much, he’d smell the smoke. Jongin always complained about it.
The first thing Jongin does is hug Kyungsoo. His arms are warm and inviting, the total opposite of how the weather feels wrapped around him. Jongin feels like summer while Kyungsoo still remains in winter.
Jongin smells like the laundry soap he uses. The clothes are freshly washed, most likely because Jongin knew Kyungsoo was coming home. He always washes all of his clothes before he does. Sometimes he says it’s because he likes to smell good. Other times he says so he has options incase they do something completely different. Kyungsoo smiles at the reasons. Though the real reason isn’t either of them.
The black Mercedes is warm inside. It’s almost too warm, almost hot. Kyungsoo feels as if he can breathe inside of it. He takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes.
--
Kyungsoo grips the back of the seat. His fingernails are piercing the leather. He knows that Jongin won’t notice the marks until weeks later. Kyungsoo’s nails dig deeper the more he moves, the feeling of Jongin’s hard dick inside him making pleasure run throughout his body.
Hips move and lift, dropping down and lift again in a perfect rhythm. When Kyungsoo lifts up and moves down, Jongin rolls and pushes up. Thighs slap against thighs, filling the car with more than just moans.
His whole body is sweaty. The back of his hair sticks to his neck and his bangs have been pushed back, threatening to fall back on his sweaty forehead. Kyungsoo almost slips as he rolls his hips, his own sweat mixing with Jongin’s. Jongin moans as Kyungsoo tightens his muscles around his cock.
Jongin’s hands grip Kyungsoo’s hips. The pace speeds up when Kyungsoo feels a tightening in his stomach. Jongin doesn’t have to wait for Kyungsoo to hiss at him and tell him to go faster. Jongin already knows and it trying his best not to let Kyungsoo fall off of him.
Kyungsoo finishes first. Streaks of white across Jongin’s black sweater. It’s painfully obvious against the fabric. He looses his train of thought when he feels Jongin tighten and his release filling him up.
They stay silent, bodies pressed up against each other. Jongin’s sweater feels good against Kyungsoo’s cool skin.
--
“I missed you.”
“I know.”
Kyungsoo takes a long drag of his cigarette. He blows the smoke out the window because he doesn’t want Jongin to complain about it. He doesn’t like whiney people. Jongin doesn’t say anything though. Maybe it’s because he missed him.
“I missed you too.”
Jongin smiles at the statement. It’s one of those genuine smiles that Kyungsoo swears he only keeps for him.
“The infection wasn’t as bad this time. I tried to get out earlier but the fuckers wouldn’t let me go.”
“They have a good reason, Kyungsoo. You could-”
“I could die, yeah, yeah I know all about it.”
Kyungsoo sucks in a breath, letting it out as he taps his cigarette against the edge of the car. He watches the ashes float down to the gravel of the parking space.
The window is rolled up after Kyungsoo finishes his third smoke. Jongin wants to keep the heat inside the car. Kyungsoo doesn’t protest. He likes being able to breathe in the warm air.
They sit in silence for a while. Probably about an hour, Kyungsoo thinks. The clock changes to quarter after three. Neither of them have anywhere to go in the morning so Kyungsoo doesn’t mind being out late.
Jongin most likely told his parents that he was staying over at someone’s house. One of his friends from school. Kyungsoo doesn’t really have an excuse. There’s no one waiting for him back at his apartment. Not even a cat. He could stay out until the sun rises and no one would wonder where he was. No one would lose sleep over worrying if he was hurt or if he was coming home. He didn’t have anyone like that. He’s almost thankful for it.
“Do you want to come over? You need sleep and your parents will get suspicious if you come home now.”
“Is it okay?”
Kyungsoo nods. Having Jongin around makes him be able to concentrate on something other than his thoughts.
It starts snowing a few minutes after they leave the river. Not a hard snow, a light one that’s hard to see unless he looks a certain way. The snowflakes are big. One of them that lands on the window is almost as big as the tip of his pinky finger. Kyungsoo places his finger against it and watches it melt against the glass.
Jongin has on his favorite music. He recognizes the artist and smiles to himself. Sometimes Kyungsoo imagines what his life would have been if he was a singer. He’d been told he had a good voice, one that would make others cry and cheer in happiness. It was told by his mother of course. It was one of the only good things she ever said to him.
Kyungsoo darling, she would say, please sing for me. He would comply. Little twelve year old Kyungsoo was a good child. He did everything he was asked. So he would sing to his mother on those late nights that his father was out.
He still remembers his mother’s face when he sang. It was the happiest she ever looked. There was still pain painted all over her worn face. Years of drugs and alcohol, wasting away her beautiful skin and face. Kyungsoo would sometimes cry about it. He wondered why his mother had to be like she was.
Soon he found out that his father wasn’t coming home. He had been gone for almost a week. Every night he would sing his mother asleep when he wouldn’t come home. Kyungsoo can still feel how his heart felt when they got the call his father had been murdered.
Kyungsoo doesn’t sing much anymore. It reminds him too much of his mother’s face. The way she would smile when he hit the high notes. The way her eyes actually looked alive. The way she cried the night they heard about his father and she begged him to sing to her. Kyungsoo sung his father’s favorite song. That was the last time he ever saw his mother smile.
--
The apartment is still how Kyungsoo left it. He doesn’t know why it wouldn’t be any other way. There’s a few dishes still in the sink and a pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room. Jongin offers to clean up but Kyungsoo shakes his head. He doesn’t like other people touching his things. Even dirty forgotten dishes and laundry that will take him a few days to do.
Kyungsoo pulls the bag of cigarette cartons out of his jacket. He rips each one open and dumps the packs on the coffee table. The open one in his pocket has already been emptied and he throws it away. The ashtray is moved closer when he slumps against the couch next to Jongin.
Jongin says something about getting a shower when Kyungsoo inhales for the first time. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to say anything to him because Jongin knows where the bathroom is. He watches the younger boy walk down the hallway before he exhale, the smoke clouding his vision.
Kyungsoo looks as his phone after he finishes his cigarette. There’s a few texts from friends. One from Yixing, one from Chanyeol and the rest from Jongin. Most of them are wishing him a happy birthday. ‘Happy birthday!’ they say. Each one filled with different amounts of exclamation points and a couple hearts. Kyungsoo almost forgot about his birthday. If it wasn’t for Jongin coming into the hospital with a bouquet of flowers, he would have skipped past it.
He had planned something for Jongin’s birthday. Not anything special. The two of them going to Jongin’s favorite restaurant for dinner and a night watching movies. When he had been rushed to the hospital, the plans were taken away from him. Kyungsoo sees the wrapped present sitting in the corner by his desk. It’s halfway wrapped, edges sticking out and tape sloppily put on the top of the box. To be honest, he’s already forgotten whats in the box.
Jongin smells of Kyungsoo as they lay down in the bed. Kyungsoo’s soap doesn’t have a particular smell. It’s not one that smells overly manly or one that smells too flowery. It just smells clean. For Kyungsoo, that’s what he smells like. He smells of clean thoughts and happiness. Sometimes even smells of laughs and smiles. Most of the time, Kyungsoo’s the only one that can smell it on himself.
Their fingers lace together slowly. Jongin’s hand is slightly bigger. The tips of his fingers above Kyungsoo’s. Jongin’s nails are perfectly cut, right above where his finger ends. Kyungsoo looks at his own fingernails. They’re chewed and down past where they should be. There’s a small speck of blood under what’s left of the white part of the nail. Kyungsoo doesn’t mind that his fingers are sore.
--
It’s warmer than yesterday. The air has moisture in it. There’s a few clouds and the forecast calls for more snow, heavier than last night. The birds that once sat on the railing are gone. They flew south for warmer weather, Kyungsoo thinks. He remembers seeing them fly across his window in the morning. They would create shadows against his curtains when the sun rose. They’ve been long gone. It’s not August anymore.
--
Kyungsoo’s fingers wrap around the mug filled with black coffee. ‘Why do you drink it like that?’ Jongin used to ask him. ‘Why not at cream and sugar? Black is too strong and it’ll give you a stomach ache.’ Kyungsoo laughs quietly to himself. ‘I don’t like things filled with unnecessary extras. If coffee was meant to be filled with fluff and smoothness, it would come like that,’ he’d say. Jongin would always shut up at that point.
Jongin left around ten. His mother called and told him he needed to come home. He collected his clothes while Kyungsoo laid half asleep in the bed, cigarette in hand. Jongin complains that his mother will yell at him for smelling of smoke. She might think he’s gone bad. He doesn’t ask to wash his clothes before, or even stick them in the dryer with a few softener sheets.
The only sound in his apartment is that of his labored breathing. Kyungsoo coughs as coffee goes down the wrong way. He sputters out the liquid. It lands on his arm and on his carpet. The mug drops and shatters as Kyungsoo clutches his chest. The last of the coffee spreads onto the hardwood. It flows through the carpet and sinks into the cracks of the floorboard. Kyungsoo coughs for a final time before reaching for his pack of cigarettes.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
The pack is almost empty when Kyungsoo decides to get up. It’s past noon and the sun is in it’s highest point. It’s not like it matters, really. He doesn’t know why he cares where the sun is. It’s just one of those things he’s learned. It has no meaning, yet he’s studied it anyways.
Not many people are out. It’s particularly empty for a Saturday afternoon. There is a few kids, running around in circles, attempting to play tag. They’re bundled in heavy coats and knit hats that cover their ears and foreheads. Kyungsoo looks down at his own light jacket. He can feel the wind on his ears and they turn red after a few minutes.
There isn’t anywhere he wants to go. Nothing peaks his interest. So he stands outside of the apartment building, back pressed against the brick, his shoulder blades digging into the worn red.
Several people pass by and bow at him. They smile, rosy cheeks expanding and cold breathes being seen in the air. Kyungsoo only nods, for if he tips forward into a bow, his cigarette will fall.
He finishes the last smoke in the pack. Kyungsoo pushes on the flimsy plastic, making it curl into itself before tossing it in a nearby trashcan. He knows he has several packs in his apartment, but he decides to walk to the store to buy another pack. It’s a way to spend time.
--
Sehun doesn’t work on the weekends. Even if he did, it wouldn’t be as early as one in the afternoon. He’d be asleep in his bed and probably is. Kyungsoo wanders around the small shop. He picks up a pack of gum. It’s the new cinnamon flavor of his favorite brand. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose up as he smells the gum through the pack. He carries it to the counter with him.
There’s an older woman behind the counter. Kyungsoo’s seen her only a couple times before. She’s got a scowl on her face. It pulls her already wrinkled skin down more, making her look at least a few years older. Kyungsoo wonders if she looks at herself before going out of the house. Her hair is dry and thin. There’s dark circles under her eyes indicating that she hadn’t gotten enough sleep for a few days. He ignores her question of asking how he is. She asks again but finally gets the message when Kyungsoo doesn’t respond for a second time.
The smokes taste different. Kyungsoo realizes after the first inhale. They aren’t as strong, not enough feeling comes from them. He looks at the package to realize that the woman gave him the light version instead of the regular. He curses to himself and shoves the pack back in his pocket. He doesn’t feel like dealing with another round of the woman.
Kyungsoo finishes the fifth cigarette when he sits down on the bench across from the river. His breath mixes with the smoke being pushed past his lips, making his vision more cloudy than normal. His left hand is shoved in his pocket. He doesn’t feel like dealing with two numb hands. If his right hand goes numb, at least he can still smoke with the left one. If both of them go numb, he has to wait until he gets home to smoke. He can’t wait that long.
He hears a familiar voice to the left. Kyungsoo tilts his head just enough to see where the voice is coming from. He sucks in a breath, taking in a drag as he does so. He holds for six seconds before letting it out.
Baekhyun walks alone. He has a large jacket that goes to right above his knees. It’s red in color and Kyungsoo thinks it looks good on him. Baekhyun has always looked good in red. His chin and mouth is covered by a black scarf. The fringed end flutters behind him against the back of his shoulder.
Kyungsoo watches as Baekhyun stops at a tree. He reaches his hand in his pocket and pulls out his phone. A large smile appears on his lips and seconds later, another boy comes into view. Kyungsoo sighs, the cigarette bobbing his mouth. Joonmyun walks close to Baekhyun. A black jacket with blue scarf and matching hat.
They walk past him slowly, the first slow steps being when they notice him. Baekhyun’s lips are pressed together tightly, his lips threatening to go down into a frown. Joonmyun says something to Baekhyun but Kyungsoo doesn’t hear it. Kyungsoo only taps his cigarette against the bench as they leave his vision.
He’s happy to see that they’re doing well. Kyungsoo doesn’t remember the last time he talked to Joonmyun or Baekhyun for that matter. Was it the first time he went to the hospital? No, no. It was later. Perhaps the third or fourth. At least a year. He’s surprised they still remember him. Kyungsoo’s sure he looks different.
Sometimes he wishes Baekhyun and Joonmyun were still around. He liked the way they talked. Joonmyun was always calm and had good things to say. Words of wisdom, Kyungsoo used to call them. Joonmyun would always laugh and shake his head, saying that they’re simply the truth. Baekhyun would tell jokes and make Kyungsoo laugh. Though he stops joking as much when Kyungsoo had his first coughing fit in front of them. Baekhyun resorted to regular conversations then, even though Kyungsoo told him it was fine.
Kyungsoo has several horrible traits though. One of them is pushing people away. Perhaps it’s a habit more than a trait. But then he thinks that he’s seen his family do it multiple times and thinks that it’s most likely a trait. One of the horrible ones that people always warn the parents about when they get pregnant. He thinks how horrible it must be to hear that your child will be an asshole.
The last cigarette is placed between his lips at half past four. Kyungsoo hears his stomach rumble. He sighs to himself before pushing his body off the bench. The back of his legs is numb and they feel wet. He looks down to make sure there aren’t any marks, though no one would be able to see them on his black pants.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale.
--
Jongin’s hand runs down Kyungsoo’s side. His fingers are warm from holding the cup of hot chocolate. They make his skin rise into goosebumps and his muscles twitch. It feels good. Jongin’s touch always feels good.
It’s stopped snowing outside, the ground fully covered in a thick blanket of pure white. Jongin jokes about it being the color of Kyungsoo’s skin. Kyungsoo laughs then coughs a few times. Jongin’s hand is on his chest and his fingers curl against his cool skin.
It always snows more in February.
--
The lights are too bright against his eyes. Kyungsoo puts his arm over them, hoping to relieve some of the stinging he feels. It works only for a moment before he hears his name being called.
“What?” It’s spit out like fire, somewhat intention, somewhat not.
“Please lower your hand, you’re going to pull the IV out.”
Kyungsoo lowers his hand slowly, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to adjust to the lights. He can see the doctor’s annoying white jacket, making the lights seem even brighter.
They perform the normal tests on him. The cold stethoscope is pressed against his bare back and chest. Breathe in, breathe out. It always results in a coughing fit. The doctors watch him as a few drops of blood land on the white blanket.
The IV bag is changed to something different. Clear still in color but Kyungsoo can feel the difference. For a few seconds it numbs his body, something Kyungsoo enjoys. He wonders if the doctors have forgotten that he’s only going to pull it out when they leave.
--
“The flowers by my house are beginning to bloom now.”
Kyungsoo chews on the sandwich in his hands. He nods towards Jongin, who has his elbows on the table that’s been put next to Kyungsoo’s bed.
“You know, the ones that are yellow and white? Those ones.”
“Have you planted the blue ones you wanted to yet?”
“No, it’s best to wait until it’s almost May for that. So they can live through the summer.”
Kyungsoo looks at the calendar that rests on the other table to his right. There’s only two weeks left in April.
--
Sehun’s leaned over the counter when Kyungsoo enters. He’s on his phone, like he has been each time Kyungsoo walks in. There’s a smile on his lips as his fingers quickly tap at the onscreen keyboard.
No one else is in the store. He stands alone next to the candy. Kyungsoo reaches up and grabs a bag of M&M’s. Not the one with the peanuts, the normal kind. He hates the peanut kind. It jiggles around in his hands as he walks to the counter.
“Three cartons. Normal.”
Sehun makes a quiet groan as he leans up to pull down the cartons. He watches Kyungsoo out of the corner of his eyes. Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t see, but he does. He always looks at the way people watch him.
“You’ve gone up.” Sehun says as he rings the cartons up slowly. Each beep of the scanner lasts at least three seconds. Kyungsoo counts each time. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Kyungsoo takes his time getting the bag. He looks at Sehun. He looks at the way he’s dressed; chic and simple. His hair is in perfect position and his eyeliner is done just right. His name tag is even on correctly this time. Sehun’s phone rings and he smiles as he puts it up to his ear.
It’s far too dark outside. Kyungsoo’s phone reads ten thirty. There’s no trace of the moon and Kyungsoo thinks it’s because of the clouds that are still in the sky. The thunderstorms had only ended about an hour ago and the clouds always stick around for a while afterwards. It’s lonely without the moon and stars, he thinks.
--
“Please take it.”
Kyungsoo stares at the white pill in Jongin’s hand. He shakes his head and answers, “No.”
--
He sits at the dining room table alone. His fingers tap against the wood, making no pattern in particular. The sound gets louder and the speed becomes faster depending on the breaths that he takes. The hard ones make the tapping become louder. He’s scared if he doesn’t make noise, he won’t stay awake.
His head feels light and his body is tense. The pain in his chest is more than usual. It takes thirteen deep breaths before he feels as if he can breathe again. Kyungsoo’s fingers slide off the table as he stands up.
The alcohol in the cabinets above the stove is gone. Kyungsoo searches the other cabinets slowly, hoping to find his bottle of vodka or any kind of liquor. He finds none. Jongin’s taken it away because Kyungsoo can’t hold down his alcohol. He drinks too much too fast. He remembers going to the hospital several times to have his stomach pumped. Jongin keeps it away.
Kyungsoo grabs his coat from the couch and slips on his shoes as he walks out of his apartment. The cold night air pushes against him when he steps outside. It’s the beginnings of summer but the nights are still colder than he’d like them to be. The air is no longer dry and Kyungsoo can breathe.
The man at the counter asks for Kyungsoo’s ID. He obviously still looks younger than nineteen. Kyungsoo checks his wallet, pressing his lips together when he realizes that his license isn’t with him. The man gives him a dirty look before setting the six pack of beer under the counter.
Kyungsoo checks the security cameras as he runs his fingers over a pack of gum. One right in front of the alcohol and one to the right. He pulls his hood up, enough to make only his red bangs hang out from under the material.
The beer fits nicely between his chest and the jacket. He’s entered from the right and leaves to the left. The man at the counter shouts at him but Kyungsoo opens the door and runs out. His hood falls down when he’s past the store, letting his red hair tumble against his skin. Kyungsoo runs until he can’t breathe. His body slumps against a tree, chest heaving and high pitched gasps coming from his throat.
--
Jongin answers the door. Kyungsoo is glad because if it was Jongin’s parents, the situation would be much worse. Jongin’s hair is pushed up in the back and he stands with his weight on one leg. His fingers wrap around the edge of the door as he looks at Kyungsoo.
“Kyungsoo.. what are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?”
He doesn’t answer either question because he’s well aware of both of the answers. Kyungsoo stumbles forward and wraps his arms around Jongin’s waist. He can feel the tank top brushing against his hip. It feels soft and warm, unlike his own clothes.
Kyungsoo doesn’t loosen his arms when Jongin tries to pull away. Jongin smells nice, Kyungsoo thinks. Somewhat like him and somewhat like his own person. He takes a breath against Jongin’s chest.
“I wanted to make sure you’re still here.”
--
The bottle of pills is thrown at him in the bed. Jongin shuts the door behind him, a glass of water in his hand. Kyungsoo sits up from his laying position and looks at the bottle. It’s the antibiotics that the doctor had prescribed him. Kyungsoo shakes his head and holds the bottle out towards Jongin.
Jongin doesn’t come to take it like he normally does. Jongin stands with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a frown on his lips. “Take one.”
“No.”
“Please, Kyungsoo.”
Jongin’s voice is desperate. Kyungsoo looks up to meet the other’s eyes. “I don’t need them.”
Kyungsoo’s head turns as a hard slap hits his cheek. His expression doesn’t change when he looks up at Jongin again. “Take them, dammit!”
His back hits the wall, making him groan in pain. He takes a few quick breaths, unsure if he can breathe or not. Jongin punches him in the jaw. Kyungsoo can taste blood on his lips as his tongue swipes across them.
There’s a kick to his groin and Kyungsoo slides down to the ground. His hands clutch at his stomach. He sucks in a breath before coughing. He coughs until he throws up on the floor.
“Please take the medicine. Please, Kyungsoo.”
Jongin leans down and pushes Kyungsoo’s hair back. It feels the same as every time he does it. Kyungsoo only shakes his head and whispers no.
--
The river is better during the sunset in the summer. Birds and dragonflies hover above the water, their shadows in the ripples of the gentle waves. The sun is a dark orange, one that looks as if it comes from a movie. Kyungsoo laughs to himself because sometimes he thinks he’s actually in a movie. I’d like that better, he thinks.
The cigarette is put out in the ashtray that sits in the cup holder. It’s half full of discarded ends of cigarettes and dunes of ashes. Kyungsoo blows out the smoke he’s been keeping between his lips. It blows out into the summer air, disappearing after a few seconds.
“You should stop smoking. I bet your body would fight off infections easier. Not to mention, smoking is bad for your health.”
Kyungsoo sucks in a breath, letting it out as a cough. He feels Jongin’s hand against his back as he continues to cough. He catches his breath a few minutes later.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“Why? Because you’re addicted? You know there’s lots of programs and I know a couple people that have overcome their addictions.”
Nicotine fills his lungs and blood. About a hundred other different drugs that Kyungsoo can’t name make his body feel numb. He can’t breathe for a moment and his eyes widen. He still isn’t used to the way the first inhale feels. His mind goes blank before the rush of thoughts come back to him.
Jongin sits with his legs crossed and seat pushed back so his legs can stretch out. His fingers tap along the edge of his pocket on his shorts.
“I like to smoke.” Kyungsoo shrugs as he pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He notes that there’s only three left, barely enough to last him until he returns home. “It calms me.”
“But it’s also killing you. The more you smoke, the more the infections come back. Not to mention you don’t even take the medicine the hospital gives you. Kyungsoo, you’re throwing your life away.”
Kyungsoo wonders how his parents felt when the doctor told them that their child was going to be an asshole. One with the push-everyone-he-cares-for-away trait. It’s a fucking awful trait. But he wonders how it feels to have a son with two awful traits. Do Kyungsoo is also a hypocrite. He pushes the people he cares for away. Pushes his own life away, even. Yet he still expects people to be there for him.
--
Kyungsoo remembers the first time he realized his life.
It was a summer night. One with cool air and a gentle breeze that would come every now and then to blow at his bangs. It was the perfect weather, really. He walked down the sidewalk alone. He had an IPod in one hand, only one headphone being put in. ‘Never walk with both earbuds in,’ his mother would tell him before he would go out. Kyungsoo always listened.
The sun hadn’t gone down yet but the sky told him that it was going to soon. The tops of the trees glowing a bright orange with small streaks of pink in it.
Kyungsoo saw a few of his school friends. He would wave to them and they would wave back. Most of them had buzzed heads and clothes that were too big for them. Rips and tears would line the sides of their bodies and even at the collars. Kyungsoo would always feel insecure about his own clothing. It was neat and clean, unlike the others. The other children would make fun of him for the way he dressed.
He walked until he reached the edge of his neighborhood. Kyungsoo knew that he wasn’t allowed past the signs that had the neighborhood name printed in faded white paint. He turned around, changing the song on his IPod before beginning to walk home.
When he reached the curve going towards his house, he heard shouting. Kyungsoo turned down his music as he got closer. He could hear a woman and a man yelling at each other, something about a third man. As if on cue, a third voice came in, a much harsher and deeper one.
The scene happened quickly in front of him. The third man with the deeper voice hit the second man in the face. They fought for a few minutes, hands and legs going into different body parts. The larger man slammed the smaller one on the gravel. Kyungsoo could see bits of blood landing on the black surface from where he was standing.
The woman was shouting and had her hands clutched in her dark hair. Kyungsoo watched as the third man pulled out a gun, pointing it to the man on the ground and pulling the trigger.
Kyungsoo ran home as fast as he could. His shoelaces came untied at one point, making him trip and fall onto the sidewalk. Kyungsoo groaned as he rubbed the small cut on his cheek, the blood staining his pale skin. He brushed the dirt off quickly, afraid that if he stood still for too long, the man would come after him. Somehow find him and pull that gun out at him too.
It was the first time Kyungsoo saw his mother doing her drugs. When Kyungsoo opened her bedroom door to tell her what he had saw, his mother was bent over the table, her nose pressed against a line of white powder. Kyungsoo watched in silence as the white line disappeared. His mother looked at him with a smile. She didn’t notice the tears that were running down his cheeks.
Everything changed after that. Kyungsoo refused to leave the house unless he was with his father. When his mother did send him out alone, he would always look around him several times, paranoid that someone would be following him.
His mother’s attitude got worse. She would scream and throw things at Kyungsoo when he didn’t do all the dishes by the time she came home. Then she would cry at night and ask Kyungsoo to sing to her. Kyungsoo walked hesitantly to her when she laid down in her bed. He sung for her until she fell asleep. Kyungsoo would pull the blanket over her and turn off the lights when he was done.
Occasionally, he would borrow a cigarette from one of his neighbors. It was always the strong kind. The one that would make his lungs burn even more than they already did. It was the first time he went to the hospital for an infection. He stayed for almost a month, getting antibiotics right into his system to fight off the infection. The doctors prescribed him more antibiotics to take at home for a few weeks. But his family didn’t have enough money for them. So his mother would crumple up the paper and throw it away.
Kyungsoo saw over a dozen people get killed. Each one a different way. One woman got killed for cheating on her husband. Another one killed for not being able to pay for the amount of drugs he was sold. Each person had their own story. But each one was tragic. Each one making another dent in Kyungsoo’s mind.
--
“Did I ever tell you about the first time I smoked?”
Jongin turns his head from the couch. He sits up slowly, his shoes making a tap against the tiled floor. “No. You didn’t.”
Kyungsoo looks up at the ceiling. There’s only one light on, the white glow lighting the room up from the middle outwards. Kyungsoo’s glad that they turned the lights down. He doesn’t like the way they make his eyes feel. He takes the oxygen mask off his face as he laughs.
“I was thirteen.” Kyungsoo gasps, his breaths labored and high pitched. “Kid next door offered me one when I walked past. Said it would make me feel good.”
“Did it?”
Jongin moves to the side of the bed, his knees pressing against the hard floor. Kyungsoo shakes his head and laughs again, putting the mask back on his mouth to breathe again.
“Of course not. I thought I was dying.”
“Do you still feel like that when you smoke?”
He blinks slowly, letting the world go dark then come back to life. Kyungsoo shakes his head, his lips curling up into a smile. “No. It feels like I’m living.”
--
Kyungsoo likes to live on the edge. An edge of something he’s not sure of. He thinks that the edge of what he’s standing on changes every now and then. Sometimes he’s on the edge of death. Other times he’s on the edge of life and happiness. Most of the time though, he’s on the edge of fear.
He finishes the last pack of smokes in the carton. He has another one, of course, but he doesn’t feel up to walking over and getting it. So he takes his time smoking. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, seconds.
Quitting had come to his mind once before. He was drunk beyond any time before. He would laugh and clutch his stomach as he coughed. Kyungsoo vaguely remembers Jongin’s hands on his chest.
It was the first time Kyungsoo and Jongin had sex. Kyungsoo was seventeen and Jongin was sixteen. They were celebrating their birthday’s together. It was just the two of them in Jongin’s basement. Kyungsoo kissed Jongin first. It was a hot, desperate kiss. He kissed Jongin over and over again until the other kissed back.
Things moved fast and Kyungsoo felt that his body was on fire from the way Jongin’s touches felt against his skin. The way his hands slid down his thin frame and over his hips. He would arch his back and moan Jongin’s name, the ending of it turning into a cough. Jongin would ask if he was okay. Kyungsoo always said yes because he didn’t want Jongin to stop. If he stopped, he might not be okay.
They met everyday when Jongin returned home from school. Occasionally they would go to Jongin’s house but most of the time they would go to the river. Kyungsoo would stretch out on the blanket, toes wiggling against the soft fabric. Jongin would lean back on his elbows and look up at the sky.
“Why don’t you stop smoking? It’s not good for your health.” Jongin would say to him.
Kyungsoo would blow the smoke out in front of him, watching as it made rings from the way his lips moved. Jongin was the first one to care about his health. Kyungsoo would shrug and say, “I don’t want to. It feels good to smoke.”
“It feels good to smoke.” Kyungsoo says as he takes the last drag of his cigarette. “Feels like I’m living.”
Jongin only looks at him as he sits down next to him on the couch. Kyungsoo can barely hear the way he says, ‘I love you, please stop.’
--
Sehun knocks on the door on Tuesday. It’s right after noon when the sun is in the highest point in the sky. Kyungsoo grabs the cigarette out of his mouth and puts it between two fingers as he opens the door.
“He got in a car crash. It’s--things aren’t good, Kyungsoo.”
--
Kyungsoo watches the way Jongin’s heart beats on the monitor. There’s perfect pauses between each beat and his breaths sound normal. Kyungsoo for once doesn’t listen to his own breathing.
It’s different, not being in the hospital for himself. The doctors don’t bug him about the way he always pulls out the IV and gets blood everywhere. They don’t come and pull the blanket up every time they walk in, saying he’ll get too cold. They only tell him things about Jongin.
--
Jongin wakes up on the fourth day that Kyungsoo sleeps on the couch. Kyungsoo wakes up to Jongin calling his name. It’s quiet and his voice raspy, but it’s Jongin. So Kyungsoo answers.
“Are you okay?”
Kyungsoo scrunches his nose up. “You’re not really in any position to ask me how I’m doing.”
Jongin laughs and reaches his hand out to grab Kyungsoo’s. Their fingers intertwine and Jongin grips his hand tightly.
He doesn’t know how long they hold hands. Kyungsoo has to sit because he gets out of breath easily and standing is too much effort. Jongin’s thumb rubs against the side of Kyungsoo’s skin. Their skin is becoming dry from the weather. October comes too fast and the cold air begins to return.
Kyungsoo knows that it’ll soon be his turn to sit where Jongin does. He always gets bad infections in the winter.
--
“Why do you keep smoking? Don’t you care that your life is shortened? You could die the next time you get an infection.”
“It makes me feel good.”
“You say that every time.”
“It’s true.”
“Why?”
“Because, cigarettes can’t harm you.”
“Yes they can.”
“Not the way I’m thinking of.”
Jongin opens his eyes and looks at Kyungsoo. The eyes that were once full of life are now dull and almost always brimming with tears.
“Cigarettes can’t yell at you when you come home late after the curfew. They can’t tell you that you’re useless. They only tell you the things you want to hear. Cigarettes don’t love so they can never stop loving you. They won’t ever leave.”
“Do you think I’ll leave you?”
Kyungsoo laughs as he sucks in a sharp breath. “They all leave.”
--
Kyungsoo fixes his tie in the mirror of his bathroom. The ashes from the cigarette drop onto his jacket, making him curse in anger. He quickly brushes them off before they can leave white and gray streaks against the black.
Baekhyun and Joonmyun sit in front of him. Sehun is to the left of him, a small wrapped box in hand. Kyungsoo plays with the bottom of his jacket to keep his mind off the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.
When it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to go up, he grabs the badly wrapped box that had been forgotten for more than a year. It’s still badly wrapped, the corners sticking up and tape lazily put on the top, holding the wrapping paper together. Kyungsoo’s all but forgotten what’s inside. It was only when he sat in silence did he remember what was inside.
Inhale. One, two, three, four, five, seconds. Exhale. One, two, three. Repeat.
“Hey.”
Kyungsoo looks up to see Sehun walking towards him. The black suit is too small for him. It comes up on his ankles and Kyungsoo can see where it’s too tight around his shoulders and upper arms.
“Hey.” he says between slow puffs of smoke out of his mouth.
“What was in that box?”
Another cigarette is pressed between his lips. The wind makes it hard to light it. Kyungsoo tries three times before it finally lights. He laughs as he kicks his foot at the ground.
“A promise to stop smoking.”
--
Kyungsoo looks at the bottle of antibiotics the pharmacist hands him. It’s large, like all the other discarded ones. Twenty-eight pills, the label reads. Enough for three weeks. Kyungsoo bows as he walks out of the drugstore.
The pills are hard to swallow and it takes him a few times before it goes down. Kyungsoo lays down in bed as the pills begin to kick in. It doesn’t take long. Kyungsoo feels something different. For once, Kyungsoo lets himself cry. He cries for hours, everything crashing down on him at once.
--
Kyungsoo likes to live on the edge. An edge of something he’s was once not sure of. He used to live on the edge in the middle of life and death. He was in a middle ground. A ground without a name. Now he realizes where he’s been the whole time. He’s been on the edge of love. The edge of Jongin. He keeps him in the middle. Saving him from death but allowing Kyungsoo to find his own life.
As Kyungsoo throws away the cartons of smokes, he jumps off the edge. He lands in the arms of Jongin.
-angsty kaisoo is the best kaisoo
-I added some characters just to make things smooth, i hope it's okay! ♥