Mistake [03/03]
It was the same look the actor on the screen wore as he pretended to beat the woman before him, just more... Well, just more; more threatening, more dangerous, and more real. Taemin wished he could swap places with that damn woman on the television. Sure, he probably shouldn’t wish this upon anyone, but he was too far past caring about other people. Taemin only wanted his Jonghyun, and this sure as hell wasn’t him, so he didn’t really give a shit who got to have him.
Jonghyun was in one of his usual rages. Over what, Taemin had no idea; he just knew he was being yelled at for something that was supposedly his fault. He bit his lip and stayed silent as the older man screamed at him, told him what a fuck up he was, and how he could never do anything right. He wanted to yell back, to tell him to get a hold of himself, tell him that this wasn’t him, but he didn’t. He never did.
As usual, he just waited, waited for Jonghyun to kick him out, or for Jonghyun to hit him - or both. His eyes were closed, anticipating being hit, but they flew open suddenly when Jonghyun stopped yelling mid-sentence. Something seemed to click in Jonghyun’s mind as he seemingly surveyed Taemin’s face before lowering his eyes to look at the floor.
“What am I doing?” Jonghyun asked himself quietly, shaking his head before stalking off to the bathroom, leaving Taemin more confused than ever.
More than anything, Jonghyun was ashamed of himself. He was ashamed at himself for doing what he did, but he was also angry. Angry at the world and angry at Jinki for letting Taemin come back again. He turned the tap on and watched the water run for a few seconds before he cupped his hands under the stream and splashed it on his face. The cold water was refreshing, but did nothing to calm him. He leaned against the basin and stared down his reflection in the mirror. He looked weak and tired, but Jonghyun couldn’t even feel sorry for himself. When did I become like this?
He tried to wipe the scowl off his face and turn it into something more familiar - a smile - but it just didn’t seem right to him. The sight alone made him feel so disgusting, and he didn’t know if he were about to cry or be sick. He hated his reflection and the person behind it. This wasn’t him; he loved Taemin and he would never, ever hurt him. But he had.
“I don’t deserve him,” he mumbled, punching his reflection as hard as he could. It was almost mesmerizing to watch as blood trickled in a steady stream over his hand a dripped onto the floor. Instead of feeling pain, Jonghyun felt satisfaction. The steady trail of blood following him, along with the crunch of the shattered glass under his feet, only gave him more satisfaction. To him, it seemed only fair that he just deal with it as Taemin had all this time. He deserved whatever pain the world dealt to him.
There were small shards of glass embedded in his skin, but Jonghyun didn’t care. It didn’t really seem important at the time anyway; all he wanted to do was get out of the damn house. If he was here, Taemin wasn’t safe.
The music at the club was loud, but somehow not loud enough to drown out Jonghyun’s thoughts. He had made mistake after mistake, and he knew it. He knew it better than ever as he knocked back his fourth drink, but he had forgotten it by his seventh. And by his ninth, he probably didn’t even know his name - nor did he know the name of the two girls coaxing him to a private room with them.
But boy, did he know about an hour later as he vomited unceremoniously all over one of the poor girls’ shoes, and again in the toilet of the bathroom in the private room. Wiping his mouth, he excused himself back out to the bar area. His head was pounding, his vision was blurred, and there probably wasn’t a fish in the drink that the bartender handed him, but he laughed anyway and watched it swim.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…
It was his fourteenth drink, and he wondered why there were suddenly two identical bartenders. Twins, maybe? It was his fourteenth drink, and he realised that there was a now bandage on his hand. It was his fourteenth drink and he realised he should probably be getting home. The club was fairly empty now, with twenty - maybe thirty - people left on the dance floor. When did they all leave? What time is it? Jonghyun laughed aloud at his thoughts; he was so drunk even the voice in his head was slurring.
Fifteen…
It was his fifteenth drink, and he wasn’t quite sure where it had come from - it was after he left the club, he knew that much. It was his fifteenth drink, and his mind strayed back to those girls at the club. They didn’t satisfy him. They couldn’t satisfy him; he still wanted more. It was his fifteenth drink and Jonghyun wondered if Taemin was still up.
Jonghyun was speaking rather loudly as he walked down their street. He wasn’t talking to anyone, though, he just thought he was. Or, at least, that’s what the one-sided conversation and wild hand gestures would suggest. His voice was loud enough to wake Taemin from his slumber, and distinct enough for Taemin to recognise him from all the way down the street.
Taemin, out of concern for his neighbours and embarassment for Jonghyun, hurried to the front door, flinging it open and telling the stumbling, drunk man before him to keep it down a little. All he got in response was a, “hey baby, I missed you,” and the feeling of Jonghyun’s hot breath on his ear. “What do you say? You… and me…” Taemin paled and swallowed the bile that had suddenly risen to his throat.
“Let’s just get you inside,” Taemin mumbled, hoping Jonghyun would just pass out or something once he was inside. Taemin couldn’t decide if he was angry that Jonghyun had gone and gotten himself completely hammered, or sad to see him like this. He felt partially responsible, but decided to push all his negative thoughts to the back of his mind and get Jonghyun inside so he would stop pissing off the neighbours.
Once inside, Taemin helped the elder get changed (through which Jonghyun had giggled like a teenage girl,) and made him clean his teeth. Stumbling slightly on his way into the room, Jonghyun threw himself onto their double bed and rolled over onto his back, grinning all the while.
“Taeminnie,” he called as the younger boy turned to leave the room. “Come join me?” It was hard to miss the way Taemin’s hand shook and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he turned around to face Jonghyun. “You know what I want, baby. The girls at the club are never enough.”
Something snapped in Taemin, much like it had with Jonghyun earlier. It was almost as though the situation was suddenly reversed. He grabbed the closest object to him - a lamp that was sitting atop their dresser - and threw it at Jonghyun, narrowly missing him. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the ground looking a little worse for wear, but not shattering like they do in the movies. Apparently Jonghyun didn’t like Taemin’s sudden change in attitude as his expression turned dark and he shot off the bed in an instant, stumbling slightly toward Taemin.
Taemin regretted having closed the door at that point in time, as Jonghyun had that look in his eyes and Taemin knew he was stuck. When Jonghyun reached him and trapped his lips in a rough kiss, he couldn’t take it and reached to his right, hands searching desperately for something - anything - to use as a weapon. When he was met with nothing, he harshly shoved the elder off of him, taking him by surprise and causing him to stumble backwards.
It all seemed to go in slow motion then for Taemin, like some scene from a movie. Jonghyun lost his footing and slipped, his head colliding with the wooden post at the foot of the bed. He could only stare as the man he loved lay motionless on the floor. He could only stare as blood started to seep from the large gash on the back of Jonghyun’s head. He could only stare as the pool of blood around Jonghyun’s head grew larger - for once, as it did in the movies. He could only stare as Jonghyun took what would be his last breath.
It was strange. Taemin didn’t check his pulse, didn’t even think about seeing if he was still alive. All he could think was that Jonghyun didn’t look anything like people described when someone died, and not at all like what they depicted in movies. They were meant to look peaceful, but Jonghyun’s face bore a frown and his body was positioned awkwardly from the fall. Why was everything always so damn misleading?
Taemin dropped to the floor and leaned against the dresser, staring at Jonghyun. He couldn’t draw his eyes away from the sight even as he pulled out his phone and punched in Jinki’s number. By the time Jinki had answered, Taemin was sobbing. He couldn’t even recall letting the first tear fall.
Jinki arrived exactly thirteen minutes later, letting himself in with the spare key he had insisted Taemin give him (just incase something happened). He looked in every room of the house for Taemin, before finally resting his hand on the door to the bedroom. He turned the knob slowly and opened the door, afraid of what he might see. What he saw certainly was not what he had expected, though.
Taemin was sitting on the floor just to the right of the door, but he seemed to be okay, aside from the endless stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. Jinki couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved when he saw Jonghyun lying on the floor, but it also broke his heart to see. Taemin loved him with all his heart and Jinki couldn’t possibly hate someone that Taemin loved.
He quickly checked Jonghyun’s pulse - nothing - before crossing the room back to where Taemin was and sitting next to him. He wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy and tried to calm him down; assuring him that everything would be fine. That he would take care of it all.
Jinki could feel his heart breaking into tiny pieces as Taemin cried harder, wrapping his arms around him. Jinki couldn’t even feel happy that he finally had what he wanted. Every tear that slipped down his cheeks, every sob that escaped his lips made Jinki feel as though someone was stomping all over the pieces of his heart that had been left on the ground.
“Shh, Taemin-ah, it’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay. It was just a mistake.”
- - -
A/N: So, it probably shouldn't have taken me a week to post this, but I did. I really wasn't meant to be typing heaps this week either, but I did anyway. ^^
Um yeah, shitty ending, I know. I had this kick ass ending in mind, but I didn't want to put this up any later and I just really can not be bothered? It's 3:18AM now, and I've just finished writing this, so sorry for the fail. xD
Time to go get some panadol and (maybe) go to bed... or not. xD
Comments? ♥
Jonghyun was in one of his usual rages. Over what, Taemin had no idea; he just knew he was being yelled at for something that was supposedly his fault. He bit his lip and stayed silent as the older man screamed at him, told him what a fuck up he was, and how he could never do anything right. He wanted to yell back, to tell him to get a hold of himself, tell him that this wasn’t him, but he didn’t. He never did.
As usual, he just waited, waited for Jonghyun to kick him out, or for Jonghyun to hit him - or both. His eyes were closed, anticipating being hit, but they flew open suddenly when Jonghyun stopped yelling mid-sentence. Something seemed to click in Jonghyun’s mind as he seemingly surveyed Taemin’s face before lowering his eyes to look at the floor.
“What am I doing?” Jonghyun asked himself quietly, shaking his head before stalking off to the bathroom, leaving Taemin more confused than ever.
More than anything, Jonghyun was ashamed of himself. He was ashamed at himself for doing what he did, but he was also angry. Angry at the world and angry at Jinki for letting Taemin come back again. He turned the tap on and watched the water run for a few seconds before he cupped his hands under the stream and splashed it on his face. The cold water was refreshing, but did nothing to calm him. He leaned against the basin and stared down his reflection in the mirror. He looked weak and tired, but Jonghyun couldn’t even feel sorry for himself. When did I become like this?
He tried to wipe the scowl off his face and turn it into something more familiar - a smile - but it just didn’t seem right to him. The sight alone made him feel so disgusting, and he didn’t know if he were about to cry or be sick. He hated his reflection and the person behind it. This wasn’t him; he loved Taemin and he would never, ever hurt him. But he had.
“I don’t deserve him,” he mumbled, punching his reflection as hard as he could. It was almost mesmerizing to watch as blood trickled in a steady stream over his hand a dripped onto the floor. Instead of feeling pain, Jonghyun felt satisfaction. The steady trail of blood following him, along with the crunch of the shattered glass under his feet, only gave him more satisfaction. To him, it seemed only fair that he just deal with it as Taemin had all this time. He deserved whatever pain the world dealt to him.
There were small shards of glass embedded in his skin, but Jonghyun didn’t care. It didn’t really seem important at the time anyway; all he wanted to do was get out of the damn house. If he was here, Taemin wasn’t safe.
The music at the club was loud, but somehow not loud enough to drown out Jonghyun’s thoughts. He had made mistake after mistake, and he knew it. He knew it better than ever as he knocked back his fourth drink, but he had forgotten it by his seventh. And by his ninth, he probably didn’t even know his name - nor did he know the name of the two girls coaxing him to a private room with them.
But boy, did he know about an hour later as he vomited unceremoniously all over one of the poor girls’ shoes, and again in the toilet of the bathroom in the private room. Wiping his mouth, he excused himself back out to the bar area. His head was pounding, his vision was blurred, and there probably wasn’t a fish in the drink that the bartender handed him, but he laughed anyway and watched it swim.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…
It was his fourteenth drink, and he wondered why there were suddenly two identical bartenders. Twins, maybe? It was his fourteenth drink, and he realised that there was a now bandage on his hand. It was his fourteenth drink and he realised he should probably be getting home. The club was fairly empty now, with twenty - maybe thirty - people left on the dance floor. When did they all leave? What time is it? Jonghyun laughed aloud at his thoughts; he was so drunk even the voice in his head was slurring.
Fifteen…
It was his fifteenth drink, and he wasn’t quite sure where it had come from - it was after he left the club, he knew that much. It was his fifteenth drink, and his mind strayed back to those girls at the club. They didn’t satisfy him. They couldn’t satisfy him; he still wanted more. It was his fifteenth drink and Jonghyun wondered if Taemin was still up.
Jonghyun was speaking rather loudly as he walked down their street. He wasn’t talking to anyone, though, he just thought he was. Or, at least, that’s what the one-sided conversation and wild hand gestures would suggest. His voice was loud enough to wake Taemin from his slumber, and distinct enough for Taemin to recognise him from all the way down the street.
Taemin, out of concern for his neighbours and embarassment for Jonghyun, hurried to the front door, flinging it open and telling the stumbling, drunk man before him to keep it down a little. All he got in response was a, “hey baby, I missed you,” and the feeling of Jonghyun’s hot breath on his ear. “What do you say? You… and me…” Taemin paled and swallowed the bile that had suddenly risen to his throat.
“Let’s just get you inside,” Taemin mumbled, hoping Jonghyun would just pass out or something once he was inside. Taemin couldn’t decide if he was angry that Jonghyun had gone and gotten himself completely hammered, or sad to see him like this. He felt partially responsible, but decided to push all his negative thoughts to the back of his mind and get Jonghyun inside so he would stop pissing off the neighbours.
Once inside, Taemin helped the elder get changed (through which Jonghyun had giggled like a teenage girl,) and made him clean his teeth. Stumbling slightly on his way into the room, Jonghyun threw himself onto their double bed and rolled over onto his back, grinning all the while.
“Taeminnie,” he called as the younger boy turned to leave the room. “Come join me?” It was hard to miss the way Taemin’s hand shook and the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he turned around to face Jonghyun. “You know what I want, baby. The girls at the club are never enough.”
Something snapped in Taemin, much like it had with Jonghyun earlier. It was almost as though the situation was suddenly reversed. He grabbed the closest object to him - a lamp that was sitting atop their dresser - and threw it at Jonghyun, narrowly missing him. It hit the wall with a thud and fell to the ground looking a little worse for wear, but not shattering like they do in the movies. Apparently Jonghyun didn’t like Taemin’s sudden change in attitude as his expression turned dark and he shot off the bed in an instant, stumbling slightly toward Taemin.
Taemin regretted having closed the door at that point in time, as Jonghyun had that look in his eyes and Taemin knew he was stuck. When Jonghyun reached him and trapped his lips in a rough kiss, he couldn’t take it and reached to his right, hands searching desperately for something - anything - to use as a weapon. When he was met with nothing, he harshly shoved the elder off of him, taking him by surprise and causing him to stumble backwards.
It all seemed to go in slow motion then for Taemin, like some scene from a movie. Jonghyun lost his footing and slipped, his head colliding with the wooden post at the foot of the bed. He could only stare as the man he loved lay motionless on the floor. He could only stare as blood started to seep from the large gash on the back of Jonghyun’s head. He could only stare as the pool of blood around Jonghyun’s head grew larger - for once, as it did in the movies. He could only stare as Jonghyun took what would be his last breath.
It was strange. Taemin didn’t check his pulse, didn’t even think about seeing if he was still alive. All he could think was that Jonghyun didn’t look anything like people described when someone died, and not at all like what they depicted in movies. They were meant to look peaceful, but Jonghyun’s face bore a frown and his body was positioned awkwardly from the fall. Why was everything always so damn misleading?
Taemin dropped to the floor and leaned against the dresser, staring at Jonghyun. He couldn’t draw his eyes away from the sight even as he pulled out his phone and punched in Jinki’s number. By the time Jinki had answered, Taemin was sobbing. He couldn’t even recall letting the first tear fall.
Jinki arrived exactly thirteen minutes later, letting himself in with the spare key he had insisted Taemin give him (just incase something happened). He looked in every room of the house for Taemin, before finally resting his hand on the door to the bedroom. He turned the knob slowly and opened the door, afraid of what he might see. What he saw certainly was not what he had expected, though.
Taemin was sitting on the floor just to the right of the door, but he seemed to be okay, aside from the endless stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. Jinki couldn’t help but feel just a little relieved when he saw Jonghyun lying on the floor, but it also broke his heart to see. Taemin loved him with all his heart and Jinki couldn’t possibly hate someone that Taemin loved.
He quickly checked Jonghyun’s pulse - nothing - before crossing the room back to where Taemin was and sitting next to him. He wrapped his arms around the sobbing boy and tried to calm him down; assuring him that everything would be fine. That he would take care of it all.
Jinki could feel his heart breaking into tiny pieces as Taemin cried harder, wrapping his arms around him. Jinki couldn’t even feel happy that he finally had what he wanted. Every tear that slipped down his cheeks, every sob that escaped his lips made Jinki feel as though someone was stomping all over the pieces of his heart that had been left on the ground.
“Shh, Taemin-ah, it’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay. It was just a mistake.”
- - -
A/N: So, it probably shouldn't have taken me a week to post this, but I did. I really wasn't meant to be typing heaps this week either, but I did anyway. ^^
Um yeah, shitty ending, I know. I had this kick ass ending in mind, but I didn't want to put this up any later and I just really can not be bothered? It's 3:18AM now, and I've just finished writing this, so sorry for the fail. xD
Time to go get some panadol and (maybe) go to bed... or not. xD
Comments? ♥