007 sunflowers
title: sunflowers
pairing: cinhae
rating: pg-13
summary: heechul is the only one to catch donghae when he falls.
"Let me know if you need anything," Heechul touches his shoulder with his fingertips before an easy smile presses onto his lips, "always," and offers a small hug.
Donghae nods, waits until Heechul has left the room, and drops to the floor. He is in pieces, crumbling into the carpet, wishing there was someone to come along and cut thin flesh on his sharp edges. No one comes, and no one will, because the person he's waiting for is dead.
///
Heechul stands in front of the stove when Donghae wakes, days later. a bright pink apron is tied around his waist and logic says it's Heechul's but Donghae knows it's not. "Where did you get that?" he presses the older man into the kitchen cabinet with a hand grinding angrily into his back. "Where did you get that?" he nearly, wants to, scream.
There's a small smile on Heechul's face as he unties it slowly. Somehow he manages to create enough distance between their bodies to lift the fabric over his own head, twist around, chest to chest, to rest the apron around Donghae's neck. "I thought you'd want to wear it when you got up. I didn't want to forget," he says.
He is careful not to touch Donghae as he backs away, backs up into the wall, and slides down. Heechul just smiles softly, his eyes sparkle gently, and he turns around and starts cooking again.
"I hope ramen is okay," he throws over his shoulder. "I'm not him, after all."
Donghae feels the fabric bunched in his fists. "As if you'd know," he mumbles into thin air. Heechul doesn't hear, floats around the kitchen like a fairy, and blows cool on the ramen noodles before guiding them into Donghae's mouth.
///
Donghae collects leftover memories. His toothbrush, his slippers, his cologne. It takes him awhile to locate everything he can remember soft skin touching, but he's almost done.
"He really cared about you," Heechul smiles as he presses earrings into Donghae's open hand. The cold metal feels familiar and Donghae smiles, almost feels complete for the first time in a month.
As Heechul wraps an arm around Donghae's shoulders, Donghae breathes out, "I know," into Heechul's neck. He doesn't hug back and lets Heechul press a kiss into his hairline.
"He wouldn't want this for you." Heechul releases him, a smile gentle on his features. He doesn't mean it in a bad way, Donghae realizes.
He counters, under his breath, "I didn't want this for him," because it hurts. He isn't angry, but his fists tighten and it feels good to have the silver dig painfully into his palm.
Heechul smiles again. "Neither did I."
///
Donghae leaves red roses on his grave every Thursday and pink carnations every other day. He won't let them die on the grave, always has to replace them before they are ugly.
He notices fresh sunflowers every time he goes and smiles through his tears. It makes him cry thinking that there is someone else out there who would do that. Every day. Before him. More than him. It sends warmth crawling through his toes, stretch up his spine, until it ends up falling down his cheeks.
It hurts. It sends him to his knees in front of everlasting yellow. It sends him reaching into the ground, fingers dipping into dirt, tearing through grass. He digs deeper every time. He digs quicker every time. He digs more and more and more until his fingernails feel like they're going to rip off until his fingers are raw until he can't even feel his hands anymore. He cries and cries and cries until he is too tired to cry anymore and stumbles back into his car. He drives clumsily, eyes too watery and irritated to see in any appropriate way, and he wishes he'll die.
He always makes it home safe, crawls under cold covers half expecting him to be there. He sleeps to escape reality but always ends up dreaming of it instead.
///
They sit side by side. Heechul's eyes are closed, his hand wrapped tightly around Donghae's trembling fingers.
"I love you," Heechul whispers into Donghae's sobs. "I love you."
A year flashes painfully behind Donghae's eyelids, digs mercilessly into his flesh at every angle. He curls into Heechul's body as much as he can. He's empty and there's hardly enough tears or memories or time to make up for it. Donghae cries harder, "I love him."
Heechul wraps around him. "I know," he whispers into his ear and presses his lips into Donghae's lightly. "I know you do." It almost sounds like he's talking to himself.
Heechul's lips are wet and Donghae melts into them. Their cheeks slide against each other wet. "I love you," he repeats on Donghae's neck with his breath. The words are empty. "I love you." Emptiness. He isn't saying it for Donghae's ears to hear or his heart to feel. He isn't saying it for anyone that's alive anymore.
"I love you," Donghae answers, murmurs into Heechul's shirt. Emptiness.
///
It's just before midnight and cool air is freezing in his body. He breathes anyway, likes the feeling. Heechul steps closer to him, entertwines their hands and Donghae can feel Heechul's ring brush against his own.
Opposite hand opposite finger. Heechul's hands are cold and Donghae instinctively holds tighter. His lips part in surprise as he looks over at Donghae. "His fingers were cold like yours," he explains. They gravitate closer, the white of their breath against the midnight sky mingles together between them.
Heechul smiles. It's cold and Donghae shivers.
///
Donghae and Heechul separate when they enter the grocery store. They go in two separate directions and Donghae has never been to this particular store before. By the time he finds the flowers, Heechul is gone.
He goes alone, notices the sunflowers are already there, fresh and bright, and he hates himself for being second, again. He digs like he always does, buries his old flowers in the warm earth, and packs the dirt back onto its dying leaves.
For seven hours, Donghae gently rocks himself back and forth, watching the sun rise and fall above the grave. Rise and fall of his chest. The fast and slow of the breeze. the trees, the grass. The push and pull of his heart.
The way he wishes he could bury himself right next to him, right now and right now and right now and right now...
///
Heechul holds him, cradles him to sleep as he suffocates on his own sobs. "I love you." Smile. Heechul is always smiling and Donghae sometimes wishes he could smile with him.
"I need you." Donghae presses their cheeks together. Tastes the salt of tears. Presses his lips to heechul's wet neck. Salt everywhere.
Softy in his ear, Heechul smiles. "I'll take care of you. That's what he'd want."
Rings through his body up and down, head to toe, and he does not sleep, cannot move. What would he want? "Heechul, I," breathe, "need," breathe, "you."
"You need to hold on, Donghae."
///
Donghae sits and ferociously burns the photographs on his grave. He hears Heechul's footsteps and he feels Heechul around him before his arms are. His face glows with the fire and it burns bright red and yellow.
"Donghae," Heechul whispers into his ear. There's no smile.
Violently, Donghae stands and Heechul nearly falls into the flames. He screams, "why do you have these?" Heechul doesn't look at him. Donghae screams louder, "why do you have these?!"
Donghae can see the pictures in Heechul's eyes. He can see the memory of Sungmin's lips on his face, the sound of Sungmin's bright laughter piercing through his ears. In one rough, jagged motion, Donghae reaches down, fingers wrapping around silk petals and furry stems. He rips them away from Heechul's hands, throws them into the dirt and smashes them with his bare feet. Heechul watches, motionless.
"Why do you have these?!" Donghae screams and kicks the flowers into the fire.
He watches Heechul deteriorate in front of him, crying into the fire, trying to pluck the sunflowers from the licks of heat, trying to save the only thing he allowed himself to keep.
"I love you," he says to the fire.
///
At the beginning, when things were simple, there was only one question.
"What's the greatest thing you remember about Lee Sungmin?" Flicker.
Sometimes it was his laughter. Infectious. Sometimes it was his ability to brighten the room. The sun. It was his hard work, his focus, his drive, his patience, his innocence, his kindness.
But.
+++
you see all of his smiles. you see them clearly. fingertips and icy cold touches. weak hugs and empty words.
meant for him, not you.
he has always been crying with you.
it was always 'i love you, sungmin.'
+++
"When he sang..." pause, deep breath--the voice sweeping, slides through his bloodstream. Donghae watches intensely, holding his breath, trembling, quivering, shaking, shivering, uncontrollability, unpredictability, vulnerability. always. "It took my breath away. I always wanted to step closer. I always took a step backward instead."
Donghae watches him smile softly, look down at his hands. Always smiling. Choke.
"His smile is like sunflowers." Their eyes connect.
"Just like
...fresh sunflowers." Smile.
Donghae cannot hold on any longer. He has always known... he had just hoped... (he would be loved) that maybe... (he would be loved) if he held on long enough... (he would be loved) that he would never be loved.
pairing: cinhae
rating: pg-13
summary: heechul is the only one to catch donghae when he falls.
"Let me know if you need anything," Heechul touches his shoulder with his fingertips before an easy smile presses onto his lips, "always," and offers a small hug.
Donghae nods, waits until Heechul has left the room, and drops to the floor. He is in pieces, crumbling into the carpet, wishing there was someone to come along and cut thin flesh on his sharp edges. No one comes, and no one will, because the person he's waiting for is dead.
///
Heechul stands in front of the stove when Donghae wakes, days later. a bright pink apron is tied around his waist and logic says it's Heechul's but Donghae knows it's not. "Where did you get that?" he presses the older man into the kitchen cabinet with a hand grinding angrily into his back. "Where did you get that?" he nearly, wants to, scream.
There's a small smile on Heechul's face as he unties it slowly. Somehow he manages to create enough distance between their bodies to lift the fabric over his own head, twist around, chest to chest, to rest the apron around Donghae's neck. "I thought you'd want to wear it when you got up. I didn't want to forget," he says.
He is careful not to touch Donghae as he backs away, backs up into the wall, and slides down. Heechul just smiles softly, his eyes sparkle gently, and he turns around and starts cooking again.
"I hope ramen is okay," he throws over his shoulder. "I'm not him, after all."
Donghae feels the fabric bunched in his fists. "As if you'd know," he mumbles into thin air. Heechul doesn't hear, floats around the kitchen like a fairy, and blows cool on the ramen noodles before guiding them into Donghae's mouth.
///
Donghae collects leftover memories. His toothbrush, his slippers, his cologne. It takes him awhile to locate everything he can remember soft skin touching, but he's almost done.
"He really cared about you," Heechul smiles as he presses earrings into Donghae's open hand. The cold metal feels familiar and Donghae smiles, almost feels complete for the first time in a month.
As Heechul wraps an arm around Donghae's shoulders, Donghae breathes out, "I know," into Heechul's neck. He doesn't hug back and lets Heechul press a kiss into his hairline.
"He wouldn't want this for you." Heechul releases him, a smile gentle on his features. He doesn't mean it in a bad way, Donghae realizes.
He counters, under his breath, "I didn't want this for him," because it hurts. He isn't angry, but his fists tighten and it feels good to have the silver dig painfully into his palm.
Heechul smiles again. "Neither did I."
///
Donghae leaves red roses on his grave every Thursday and pink carnations every other day. He won't let them die on the grave, always has to replace them before they are ugly.
He notices fresh sunflowers every time he goes and smiles through his tears. It makes him cry thinking that there is someone else out there who would do that. Every day. Before him. More than him. It sends warmth crawling through his toes, stretch up his spine, until it ends up falling down his cheeks.
It hurts. It sends him to his knees in front of everlasting yellow. It sends him reaching into the ground, fingers dipping into dirt, tearing through grass. He digs deeper every time. He digs quicker every time. He digs more and more and more until his fingernails feel like they're going to rip off until his fingers are raw until he can't even feel his hands anymore. He cries and cries and cries until he is too tired to cry anymore and stumbles back into his car. He drives clumsily, eyes too watery and irritated to see in any appropriate way, and he wishes he'll die.
He always makes it home safe, crawls under cold covers half expecting him to be there. He sleeps to escape reality but always ends up dreaming of it instead.
///
They sit side by side. Heechul's eyes are closed, his hand wrapped tightly around Donghae's trembling fingers.
"I love you," Heechul whispers into Donghae's sobs. "I love you."
A year flashes painfully behind Donghae's eyelids, digs mercilessly into his flesh at every angle. He curls into Heechul's body as much as he can. He's empty and there's hardly enough tears or memories or time to make up for it. Donghae cries harder, "I love him."
Heechul wraps around him. "I know," he whispers into his ear and presses his lips into Donghae's lightly. "I know you do." It almost sounds like he's talking to himself.
Heechul's lips are wet and Donghae melts into them. Their cheeks slide against each other wet. "I love you," he repeats on Donghae's neck with his breath. The words are empty. "I love you." Emptiness. He isn't saying it for Donghae's ears to hear or his heart to feel. He isn't saying it for anyone that's alive anymore.
"I love you," Donghae answers, murmurs into Heechul's shirt. Emptiness.
///
It's just before midnight and cool air is freezing in his body. He breathes anyway, likes the feeling. Heechul steps closer to him, entertwines their hands and Donghae can feel Heechul's ring brush against his own.
Opposite hand opposite finger. Heechul's hands are cold and Donghae instinctively holds tighter. His lips part in surprise as he looks over at Donghae. "His fingers were cold like yours," he explains. They gravitate closer, the white of their breath against the midnight sky mingles together between them.
Heechul smiles. It's cold and Donghae shivers.
///
Donghae and Heechul separate when they enter the grocery store. They go in two separate directions and Donghae has never been to this particular store before. By the time he finds the flowers, Heechul is gone.
He goes alone, notices the sunflowers are already there, fresh and bright, and he hates himself for being second, again. He digs like he always does, buries his old flowers in the warm earth, and packs the dirt back onto its dying leaves.
For seven hours, Donghae gently rocks himself back and forth, watching the sun rise and fall above the grave. Rise and fall of his chest. The fast and slow of the breeze. the trees, the grass. The push and pull of his heart.
The way he wishes he could bury himself right next to him, right now and right now and right now and right now...
///
Heechul holds him, cradles him to sleep as he suffocates on his own sobs. "I love you." Smile. Heechul is always smiling and Donghae sometimes wishes he could smile with him.
"I need you." Donghae presses their cheeks together. Tastes the salt of tears. Presses his lips to heechul's wet neck. Salt everywhere.
Softy in his ear, Heechul smiles. "I'll take care of you. That's what he'd want."
Rings through his body up and down, head to toe, and he does not sleep, cannot move. What would he want? "Heechul, I," breathe, "need," breathe, "you."
"You need to hold on, Donghae."
///
Donghae sits and ferociously burns the photographs on his grave. He hears Heechul's footsteps and he feels Heechul around him before his arms are. His face glows with the fire and it burns bright red and yellow.
"Donghae," Heechul whispers into his ear. There's no smile.
Violently, Donghae stands and Heechul nearly falls into the flames. He screams, "why do you have these?" Heechul doesn't look at him. Donghae screams louder, "why do you have these?!"
Donghae can see the pictures in Heechul's eyes. He can see the memory of Sungmin's lips on his face, the sound of Sungmin's bright laughter piercing through his ears. In one rough, jagged motion, Donghae reaches down, fingers wrapping around silk petals and furry stems. He rips them away from Heechul's hands, throws them into the dirt and smashes them with his bare feet. Heechul watches, motionless.
"Why do you have these?!" Donghae screams and kicks the flowers into the fire.
He watches Heechul deteriorate in front of him, crying into the fire, trying to pluck the sunflowers from the licks of heat, trying to save the only thing he allowed himself to keep.
"I love you," he says to the fire.
///
At the beginning, when things were simple, there was only one question.
"What's the greatest thing you remember about Lee Sungmin?" Flicker.
Sometimes it was his laughter. Infectious. Sometimes it was his ability to brighten the room. The sun. It was his hard work, his focus, his drive, his patience, his innocence, his kindness.
But.
+++
you see all of his smiles. you see them clearly. fingertips and icy cold touches. weak hugs and empty words.
meant for him, not you.
he has always been crying with you.
it was always 'i love you, sungmin.'
+++
"When he sang..." pause, deep breath--the voice sweeping, slides through his bloodstream. Donghae watches intensely, holding his breath, trembling, quivering, shaking, shivering, uncontrollability, unpredictability, vulnerability. always. "It took my breath away. I always wanted to step closer. I always took a step backward instead."
Donghae watches him smile softly, look down at his hands. Always smiling. Choke.
"His smile is like sunflowers." Their eyes connect.
"Just like
...fresh sunflowers." Smile.
Donghae cannot hold on any longer. He has always known... he had just hoped... (he would be loved) that maybe... (he would be loved) if he held on long enough... (he would be loved) that he would never be loved.