[oneshot] Hallucination
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“Jingyo.”
Jiyong, in the middle of taking his shoes off as he walked inside his apartment, freezes in place at the sound of the familiar voice. Seungri waltzes in brazenly from the bedroom, saying, “Oh, hyung you’re back! I was wondering where you’d gone off to these past few-oh!” He too stops in his tracks. Chaerin is standing in the middle of their living room, hands on her hips with a displeased expression on her face and glaring at Jiyong.
“Chaerin-ah,” Seungri says carefully. “How are you today?”
Chaerin ignores his greeting and doesn’t bother looking at him. “Seungri, Bommie unnie is looking for you.”
“Ah should go see her right now then,” Seungri says, moving to the doorway and hastily trying to find his shoes. Never mind the fact that Bom would never be looking for him, as although she affectionately thought of him as an annoying brat, she would never search for him personally. He straightens, patting his still-frozen roommate on the shoulder. “Be back in a bit!” And with that, he disappears.
A million thoughts race through Jiyong’s mind as he stares at the petite woman in front of him, looking none too pleased. Is this a hallucination? he thinks. She has appeared to him so many times these past few weeks, being like his conscience, telling him things like “You take another drink and you’re dead, oppa.” “That girl is the type to spread rumors if you hook up with her, oppa - stay away!” and his most dreaded: “You’ve really screwed up this time, Jingyo.” Other characters appear occasionally, like Youngbae and Seungri, but they are always faced away from him, as if they cannot stand the sight of him out of shame.
“Well? What have you got to say for yourself this time?” she says, her tone remaining sharp.
“I’m starving,” he blurts out without thinking. When was the last time he ate anything solid? How much exactly did he drink tonight, anyway? The spectral Chaerin standing in the middle of his room was remarkably realistic - he must have had a lot to drink.
“I-“ this Chaerin begins, then pauses. She lets out a breath and her shoulders slump. “I’ll make you some fried rice.” She shuffles to the kitchen, strong posture forgotten.
Jiyong watches her progress as she disappears into the kitchen. He is indecisive, wondering whether it would be safe to follow her into the kitchen or to wait until she emerged on her own. Or maybe she would just disappear and then he could go to sleep and restart the entire process all over again tomorrow. He hovers at the doorway, unsure. He flinches as he hears a pan clang as it is slammed down onto the oven with considerable force. This is new. His hallucinations had never made sounds like this before. He follows, curious as to what his mind would do next.
He finds her in front of the stove, pan in a white-knuckled grip in one hand and spatula in the other. He floats uncertainly at the doorway. What if she disappeared when he neared?
“Six weeks, oppa. It’s been six weeks.”
“I know.” Has it really been that long?
“You didn’t respond to any of my calls. You couldn’t even text me, ‘Hey I’m alive, I’m still breathing’.” He watches as she adds eggs to the rice, listens as the pan sizzles in response.
“I know.”
“You didn’t even visit! You couldn’t even spare a moment to visit when I live in the same building as you.” She is stirring the pan with vigor, adding a dash of salt every now and then.
“I know.”
“Youngbae-oppa, Daesung-oppa, Seunghyun-oppa… none of them knew where you were. Even Seungri didn’t know where you were most of the time.”
“I know.” Why would he bother telling them when he couldn’t even stand to face them?
“I couldn’t find you anywhere. Your manager told me you didn’t want anyone to see you. You changed the goddamn passkey.” Her stirring has reached its pinnacle. She is deftly maneuvering the rice with such skill. He is astounded at his mind’s ability to recreate her skill in cooking.
“I know.”
“You know how I got in here? Your mother. Your mother gave me the new passkey after I told her I hadn’t heard from you. You know what she said? She said she hadn’t heard from you for weeks.”
“I kno-wait you talked to my mother?”
She was silent. She meticulously scoops the rice out of the pan and onto the plate and turns off the stove. The spatula hangs loosely from her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he musters up weakly.
“I was worried,” she whispers. She refuses to turn around and look at him, much as he wills her to do so. His previous incarnations of her are always facing him, speaking to him with a disapproving tone. This one was being stubborn.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, for that is all that he seems to be able to say.
“You know, you’re one of the few friends I have in this world. I don’t have many. I’m pretty sure I can count them all in one hand.” She glances at her open palm for a moment before clenching it. “I already have few friends as it is. I don’t want to lose one.” She place the spatula on the counter absent-mindedly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re friends with everyone - you have no idea how hard it would be for me to make a new friend if you decided I wasn’t worth your time anymore.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” he replies. “We’re still friends, aren’t we? We can even take a selca together! I’ll put it on me2day!” Do hallucinations appear in digital photos? he wonders.
“Don’t,” she says sharply, turning to him. The sudden force almost makes him take a step back. She has never been this intense before. Perhaps… perhaps she was real? “I don’t want to get in more trouble with your fans than I already am. Just…” she looks down, her bangs falling over her eyes, “…text me sometimes, okay? Or at least, walk somewhere where I can see you and nod at me or something. Let me know that our entire friendship isn’t some fabricated dream and that you haven’t taken nasty netizens’ words to heart and disappeared from this world altogether. Just let me know that you still exist in my life… okay?”
Her eyes are so earnest, her concern so sincere that he is convinced she couldn’t possibly be a hallucination his inebriated mind conjured up to tell him about everything he is doing wrong and he dares to wrap his arms around her. She must be real. Even his imagination under the influence couldn’t imitate the familiar way her body felt against his. Her arms slowly wind their way around him as well and he is relieved to find that she truly is solid and she is actually there, right in front of him.
“Sometimes, Chaerinnie,” he murmurs into her hair as he tightens his hold on her, “sometimes you are the only real thing that exists in my life.” He closes his eyes. “I won’t disappear again. I promise.”
“Good.” Her words are muffled as she is buried in the fabric of his coat. “New friends are really difficult to come by, you know.”
He threads a hand in her hair and unwittingly catches a whiff of her perfume. She’s real. She’s really real. “I know. I know.”
“Jingyo.”
Jiyong, in the middle of taking his shoes off as he walked inside his apartment, freezes in place at the sound of the familiar voice. Seungri waltzes in brazenly from the bedroom, saying, “Oh, hyung you’re back! I was wondering where you’d gone off to these past few-oh!” He too stops in his tracks. Chaerin is standing in the middle of their living room, hands on her hips with a displeased expression on her face and glaring at Jiyong.
“Chaerin-ah,” Seungri says carefully. “How are you today?”
Chaerin ignores his greeting and doesn’t bother looking at him. “Seungri, Bommie unnie is looking for you.”
“Ah should go see her right now then,” Seungri says, moving to the doorway and hastily trying to find his shoes. Never mind the fact that Bom would never be looking for him, as although she affectionately thought of him as an annoying brat, she would never search for him personally. He straightens, patting his still-frozen roommate on the shoulder. “Be back in a bit!” And with that, he disappears.
A million thoughts race through Jiyong’s mind as he stares at the petite woman in front of him, looking none too pleased. Is this a hallucination? he thinks. She has appeared to him so many times these past few weeks, being like his conscience, telling him things like “You take another drink and you’re dead, oppa.” “That girl is the type to spread rumors if you hook up with her, oppa - stay away!” and his most dreaded: “You’ve really screwed up this time, Jingyo.” Other characters appear occasionally, like Youngbae and Seungri, but they are always faced away from him, as if they cannot stand the sight of him out of shame.
“Well? What have you got to say for yourself this time?” she says, her tone remaining sharp.
“I’m starving,” he blurts out without thinking. When was the last time he ate anything solid? How much exactly did he drink tonight, anyway? The spectral Chaerin standing in the middle of his room was remarkably realistic - he must have had a lot to drink.
“I-“ this Chaerin begins, then pauses. She lets out a breath and her shoulders slump. “I’ll make you some fried rice.” She shuffles to the kitchen, strong posture forgotten.
Jiyong watches her progress as she disappears into the kitchen. He is indecisive, wondering whether it would be safe to follow her into the kitchen or to wait until she emerged on her own. Or maybe she would just disappear and then he could go to sleep and restart the entire process all over again tomorrow. He hovers at the doorway, unsure. He flinches as he hears a pan clang as it is slammed down onto the oven with considerable force. This is new. His hallucinations had never made sounds like this before. He follows, curious as to what his mind would do next.
He finds her in front of the stove, pan in a white-knuckled grip in one hand and spatula in the other. He floats uncertainly at the doorway. What if she disappeared when he neared?
“Six weeks, oppa. It’s been six weeks.”
“I know.” Has it really been that long?
“You didn’t respond to any of my calls. You couldn’t even text me, ‘Hey I’m alive, I’m still breathing’.” He watches as she adds eggs to the rice, listens as the pan sizzles in response.
“I know.”
“You didn’t even visit! You couldn’t even spare a moment to visit when I live in the same building as you.” She is stirring the pan with vigor, adding a dash of salt every now and then.
“I know.”
“Youngbae-oppa, Daesung-oppa, Seunghyun-oppa… none of them knew where you were. Even Seungri didn’t know where you were most of the time.”
“I know.” Why would he bother telling them when he couldn’t even stand to face them?
“I couldn’t find you anywhere. Your manager told me you didn’t want anyone to see you. You changed the goddamn passkey.” Her stirring has reached its pinnacle. She is deftly maneuvering the rice with such skill. He is astounded at his mind’s ability to recreate her skill in cooking.
“I know.”
“You know how I got in here? Your mother. Your mother gave me the new passkey after I told her I hadn’t heard from you. You know what she said? She said she hadn’t heard from you for weeks.”
“I kno-wait you talked to my mother?”
She was silent. She meticulously scoops the rice out of the pan and onto the plate and turns off the stove. The spatula hangs loosely from her hand.
“I’m sorry,” he musters up weakly.
“I was worried,” she whispers. She refuses to turn around and look at him, much as he wills her to do so. His previous incarnations of her are always facing him, speaking to him with a disapproving tone. This one was being stubborn.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, for that is all that he seems to be able to say.
“You know, you’re one of the few friends I have in this world. I don’t have many. I’m pretty sure I can count them all in one hand.” She glances at her open palm for a moment before clenching it. “I already have few friends as it is. I don’t want to lose one.” She place the spatula on the counter absent-mindedly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re friends with everyone - you have no idea how hard it would be for me to make a new friend if you decided I wasn’t worth your time anymore.”
“You’re not going to lose me,” he replies. “We’re still friends, aren’t we? We can even take a selca together! I’ll put it on me2day!” Do hallucinations appear in digital photos? he wonders.
“Don’t,” she says sharply, turning to him. The sudden force almost makes him take a step back. She has never been this intense before. Perhaps… perhaps she was real? “I don’t want to get in more trouble with your fans than I already am. Just…” she looks down, her bangs falling over her eyes, “…text me sometimes, okay? Or at least, walk somewhere where I can see you and nod at me or something. Let me know that our entire friendship isn’t some fabricated dream and that you haven’t taken nasty netizens’ words to heart and disappeared from this world altogether. Just let me know that you still exist in my life… okay?”
Her eyes are so earnest, her concern so sincere that he is convinced she couldn’t possibly be a hallucination his inebriated mind conjured up to tell him about everything he is doing wrong and he dares to wrap his arms around her. She must be real. Even his imagination under the influence couldn’t imitate the familiar way her body felt against his. Her arms slowly wind their way around him as well and he is relieved to find that she truly is solid and she is actually there, right in front of him.
“Sometimes, Chaerinnie,” he murmurs into her hair as he tightens his hold on her, “sometimes you are the only real thing that exists in my life.” He closes his eyes. “I won’t disappear again. I promise.”
“Good.” Her words are muffled as she is buried in the fabric of his coat. “New friends are really difficult to come by, you know.”
He threads a hand in her hair and unwittingly catches a whiff of her perfume. She’s real. She’s really real. “I know. I know.”