C-Trans: 洋槐 // Locust ; KaiSoo
Please do not share this out if you're in the community.
The original story in chinese is here
Kim Jongin walks down a hallway in the hematology section, holding onto the bouquet of black locust flowers he'd taken from Oh Sehun. The sunlight shining through the dustless glass windows of the hospital was overwhelmingly warm, dyeing Jongin's white woolen coat into a warming gold.
The flowers seemed sickly, and its petals didn't look full with fluorish.
It's not the right season for the flowers to bloom. Sehun's joyless face appears in Jongin's mind. "Your Highness, how much prettier would you expect for a flower within the greenhouse to be?"
Jongin frees out a hand and knocks on a white door, but there came no reply. He stands outside of the door for a couple of moments, before Jongin opens it and invites himself in -- a reclining bed with two soft-looking pillows on the headboard stood in the hospital room. There is a vase on the window ledge, and all it held was a bouquet of withering black locust flowers.
Do Kyungsoo seems as though he's asleep; the knitted woolen beanie on his head is a little too big. Jongin's walking towards the windows on his heels, pulling out the old ones and throwing them into the bin, while carefully placing each of those new stalks in. In actuality, the new ones weren't all that fresh, but changing off the withered is just easier for the person who lays in the bed.
"Did you bring new flowers again?" A voice piques out of a sudden, surprising a dazed Jongin. Splaying a smile over his confused face, turning around to receive a displeased expression from Kyungsoo. "Wouldn't Sehun murder you for constantly using his greenhouse?" Kyungsoo sighs when Jongin only grins -- subconsciously wanting to touch his furrowed brows, but pauses -- and he lets it go.
Kyungsoo looks really angry; almost as though the little hat on his head would stand in his anger. Jongin carefully hangs a smile on his face, and settled down on a seat beside the bed. "How was today's therapy? I've brought food, would you like some?" He says, pointing towards the container on the table.
Glancing over, Kyungsoo has one side of his lips curling. "Therapy was great, I'm pretty used to it now, and I've eaten." A quick look at Jongin, and he continues, "I've eaten the cake Sehun had brought earlier." Afraid of Jongin's doubts, he points to the cabinet where the pastry was before.
Kim Jongin still has a smile on his face, staring at Kyungsoo without a second word. "Alright, we'll leave it."
Jongin sits there as he listens to Kyungsoo speak about the interesting things which had happened in the hospital today. Like how the daughter of an uncle he met yesterday doesn't resemble him at all, and thus he must've found her somewhere. The day before yesterday, the new lipstick Nurse Ahn had about was really weird, and really disgusting. Two days before yesterday, on how a child was carrying a plastic tube with an elephant in it……
Nothing happened today.
It seemed as though they were exes who had just met -- Kyungsoo has his head casted down, and Jongin stares at the flowers, neither of them speaking.
"Why do you have a scar on your face?" Maybe it was because he's still looking down, and Kyungsoo's voice is soft and fragile, but it makes Jongin quiver deep within. "Ah…… Hmm, ah, what was that?" In a flustered moment, Jongin could only pretend he hadn't heard.
Do Kyungsoo looks up, glancing at Kim Jongin. His thick, black eyebrows on his brow-bones were long gone, leaving only the remnants of pale skin wrapping on around his flat forehead. He doesn't say another word, only moving his lips and finally managing to squeeze out a sentence,
"I'm sure the doctor has told you something else today."
It wasn't a question, but a fact which immediately strips Jongin of his right for denial. A sentence that had him choking, unable to face Kyungsoo as he raises up his right hand to touch the swell by the corner of his lips. Kyungsoo stares at him silently, where Jongin had only managed to stutter out a few words that made sense after a long period of time.
"It's…… nothing much, really. Seriously, I'm speaking the truth……"
He's probably never going to learn how to lie right in Kyungsoo's face.
Jongin's words was like a screeching halt to their conversation, the hospital room quieting down. Kyungsoo looks a little stiff and embarrassed, while Jongin turns away, refusing to look at him.
A strange silence engulfs them both, the air was so heavy that it kept pressing against Jongin's chest -- and he's unable to breathe.
It's uncertain as to what had came to Kyungsoo's mind, as the rim of his eyes started to get red. "I'm living well enough. This hat was personally knitted by my mother, each item was hand carried up by my father, and the nurses look really good too……" Kyungsoo tugs at his hat in one moment, and pointing outside of his door in the other, mumbling and pausing, "You've brought me these locusts too; I'm living rather well already." Kyungsoo lifts his head and gazes towards the window, unsure whether he's looking at the flower, or the man.
The calm gaze sets Jongin unsettled in his seat, and he could only tug his lips apart stiffly. "That's right, I'm diligently planting and growing flowers for you whenever I'm not in the hospital."
Kyungsoo stares at Jongin quietly, before breaking out in abrupt laughter. "Liar." His voice was neither too loud, nor was it too soft -- perfectly audible for the both of them.
Turning around with his back towards the window, Jongin could only hear the slight wheezing from the other.
The next time Kyungsoo speaks again, his voice was sounding a little choked. "You shouldn't be out lending anymore money, or your fingers just might be sliced off at a time." He stops, and there was wheezing again. Jongin wants to deny, but decides that everything he'd say would appear as dull, and useless.
And Do Kyungsoo doesn't like to joke.
Despite having the wounds on his face being carefully treated by the doctors, there's a baffling burn stinging him right now. The weather wasn't too bad, having the curtains opened would brighten up the entire room. Jongin's eyes were hurting when he accidentally stares at the polished metal bar above the bed's headboard. The black locust flowers beside the window had a faint fragrance, rich and peculiar; disgustingly tensing one within.
Kyungsoo's breathing was getting faster -- the more he'd wanted to calm down, the harder it became. "Stop treating me like a fool, Kim Jongin." Kyungsoo looks up, staring into the ceiling, his heart monitor showing signs of instability. "It's not hard for me to find out the truth." Like being unable to find a suitable bone marrow, like what you're doing outside.
Also, on how the doctor has asked for you to give up, just like my parents did.
Kyungsoo's jaw was trembling, and it was as though his eyes were blinded with a thin layer of frosted glass.
"Kim Jongin, have I never told you how hard therapy is?" There was a form of suppression within Kyungsoo's voice, even his words were fragile, afraid of breaking a tissue, and the overexertion of energy would harm.
"It's really tormenting, where I used to have my mom with me, and my father seeking ways to raise the funds."
"I would vomit whatever I ate, and often times, I couldn't even make it out of the washroom before I vomited again."
"My hair started falling off in big bunches. My pillow would be covered in hair the next day. I was especially foolish, grabbing onto a bunch of fallen hair, and pressed it against my scalp, saying, 'please stop falling, go back', I was really, really foolish."
"I ate when I got hungry, but I started to vomit again, and my mom could only stay beside me while she cried."
"I didn't dare to say I felt horrible in front of my mother, but all I felt whenever I looked into the mirror, was how I resembled an old man."
Kyungsoo starts laughing as he speaks, his smile getting sweeter by the moment. The paleness of his lips, and his sickness had been the exact opposite of his current situation. Jongin opens his mouth, lips quaking but there wasn't a word that had escaped. Staring at Kyungsoo's reddening eyes, but he finds it hard to say a word.
Don't be afraid, I'm still here for you.
How pale can it be, right?
Jongin wants to caress the back of Kyungsoo's head, but his hand freezes, and all he'd done was to touch his shoulders. Kyungsoo doubled in laughter, wheezing once more.
"And they never did come again." Kyungsoo tries his best to blink his eyes, but the rims were red and seemingly swollen.
"During the most painful part of my therapy, all I could think of was I'll just die, just let me die……" He covers his mouth his hand, brow-bone furrowing, "The doctors didn't let me go, and I didn't dare to ask a second question."
"And I just continued to vomit, as though there was someone who was hitting my stomach with a stick, I kept vomiting."
"I would vomit till it was just acid. When I'm tired, I would just squat there and cry, hug my knees and cry and cry."
Both Kyungsoo's face and hands were covered in water stains, chest significantly heaving up and down. He has long been deformedly skinny, hiding beneath the large sleeves were twig-like arms. The ones which would break into half when you touch them -- fragile, little twigs.
【 Does it hurt? 】【 It doesn't. 】
【 Do you feel bad? 】【 I'm feeling alright. 】
【 Are you fine alone? 】【 I'll be okay. 】
I'm hurting, and I feel bad.
How can I possible go through this all alone?
I didn't dare to question your absence, I didn't even dare to ask why were there increasing wounds on your face.
"Kim Jongin, why am I always alone?"
"Kim Jongin, why aren't you here whenever I need you!!"
Kyungsoo bends over to sob in his knees, his cries getting softer, and all that was left was for him to breathe hard through his mouth, letting his tears escape his eyes in large droplets.
How much impact would it make to describe someone who has withered?
Jongin is confused. It's not as though he doesn't know that Kyungsoo's hurting, but every time he gets a denial as an answer, all he can do is to speak on the shallow surface. His forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, as Jongin wipes it off in a panic, eyes erratically sending glances over to the person on the bed.
"I……"
I don't dare to look at you for another moment, because I'm afraid my heart would hurt, I'm afraid I'll be guilty.
I'm useless, and that's why you're in this situation -- I'm sorry.
It's all my fault.
Unspoken words as the letters started piecing themselves in his mind, yet it is as though a thin needle had threaded its way into his throat, constricting his words.
His heart felt as though there were talons scratching his heart. Agony.
Kyungsoo cries, but his tears doesn't fall, wrapped in his blanket and slightly trembling under. Jongin only sits by the side, dumb like a fool.
It's unsure how long the silence went on for, but the only audible sounds were the light sobs and sighs of Kyungsoo. As though he has reached an epiphany, the boy under the sheets pushes them aside, his eyes rimmed red.
"Kim Jongin, do you like me?"
The question came too sudden, too juvenile, and it stunts Jongin as he lets out a heavy sigh, reaching out a hand to smoothen out the knitted hat on Kyungsoo's head. "What rubbish are you talking." Jongin slides a hand to pat the back of his head at the same time.
"I'm serious……" The calmness within Kyungsoo had seemingly dispersed, leaving a mood of agitation in him once again, his stick fingers gripping onto the edge of the bed, joints turning white. "Do you like me? Have you ever liked me?"
It's approaching afternoon, the sun rays were getting stronger as it continued to beat down on the malnourished petals, as though the reflected light had shone and showed every little insecurity and bad premonitions within Jongin.
Kyungsoo's eyes were facing the sun -- irises shining in dull black.
"But I like you."
Kyungsoo's eyes got larger, staring into nothing but fear within Jongin. His tears starts falling -- not all that hits the bed are silent tears. The hands that were once holding onto the edge of the bed were grabbing onto Jongin's cuff tightly, as if, if he were to loosen his grip, something would go missing.
The resounding drop of his tears on the bed were like little blades, carving themselves on someone's heart, leaving shallow wounds, bleeding blood in the color of black and carrying the feelings of vulnerability and farewells.
"Kim Jongin, I really like you…… I really……"
A man who didn't have much energy to start with is shrinking like an unplugged air balloon, but he still keeps his grip on Jongin's cuffs, refusing to let go. The latter was blank with unsureness, only feeling a constant ache in his wrist.
"I really like you…… I only want to tell you this when I still have the chance to do so."
"I beg of you, you like me, don't you?"
"Please tell me you like me? Please……"
"When I'm still able to hear this."
I like you, I do.
The black locust flowers in the vase placed on the window ledge had long withered, its petals and leaves were shrivelled yellow. The man on sitting on the bed had a dark skin, his face covered in both deep and shallow cuts. The white hospital clothing is a little large on him as he glances down along his arm, his left hand placed on the sheets were missing an index and middle finger. He stares out at the window, looking lost, yet overly stubborn.
"Bed 13 Kim Jongin, it's time for your drip." The nurse's voice was little hoarse probably due to all the talking, her attitude horrible towards the person on the bed.
He turns his head a little from the window. His face was pale, dark eye circles were heavy, as if he hadn't rested for a long period of time. He squints as the nurse on shift sticks the thin needle into his arm, the cool liquid flowing towards the stream for his heart.
Kim Jongin stares up at the ceiling, an expressionless fool he was. The nurse had placed his medical situation at his bedside.
Bed 13, Kim Jongin.
Obsessive Compulsive Memory Disorder.
