Forward Motion - Kaisoo Oneshot (part 2)
At second glance, Kyungsoo notices that it’s not just random slips of paper that Jongin’s trashcan is overflowing with. It’s shredded strips of poster and pictures. Proof of a past friendship and its common interests scrunched up and thrown aside in anger. He does his best to ignore the currently distressed state of Jongin’s room, keeping his eyes on the purple walls as he changes into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that are slightly too big for him.
He always picks the same clothes. Dark blue shorts with two white strips on the side and a faded, dark grey t-shirt Jongin got in Disney World years ago with a picture of Mickey Mouse on it. They’re the clothes that fit him best because they’d accidentally been shrunk in the wash. Jongin had since then declared them as Kyungsoo’s backup clothing and always kept them in the same spot in the same drawer in case of emergency. He’s happy to see that they’re still there in exactly the same spot.
“I can put your clothes in the dryer if you want. Gonna put mine in there too once I change.” Kyungsoo jumps out of surprise and gets tangled up in the process of putting on Jongin’s shirt, then trips over an open textbook but manages to right himself before falling. Since when was Jongin so good at sneaking up on people? A year ago you’d be able to hear him coming from a mile away. Loud and bubbling with laughter. Even his footsteps weren’t quiet. But he guesses that most things about Jongin are different from what he remembers these days.
“Since when did you acquire such ninja skills?” the older boy huffs.
“I-what? Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to let you know…” Jongin trails off, hand half outstretched in the air and then falling to his side and balling into a fist when he recognizes the clothing Kyungsoo’s wearing.
“You still have Sehun’s in the same spot, don’t you?”
Jongin’s eyes flicker down to his toes as he nods. “I could handle getting rid of the pictures,” he murmurs. “But for some reason, not the clothes.” His eyes drift along the cluttered floor and back up to Kyungsoo’s face. “They still smell like him.”
He’d pulled them out of the drawer a few days after Sehun’s death when he went on a rampage around the house, hiding all evidence of his friend’s existence. With the intention of burying them under a heap of dirt in the backyard, he’d viciously torn them out of the dresser but instead he found himself hugging them, burying his head deep into the soft fabrics and inhaling a scent that was peculiarly Sehun. That’s when he decided to refold them as neatly as possible, zip them up in a plastic bag, and place them in their usual spot on the top drawer on the left. He wanted to preserve the smell. The last thing that was distinctly Sehun that only he would truly be able to know. Everyone could see a picture or a video or look at all his old belongings, but not everyone would look at the worn-down sweatpants and white t-shirt that used to be Jongin’s and know that they were truly Sehun’s. That every inch of them was permeated with his scent or that the grape jelly stain on the right pant leg was Sehun’s fault. They’d look at it and all they’d see was a pair of pants and grungy old shirt.
But the smell would wear away over time. Slowly degrading to the regular scent of Jongin. Amalgamating in with everything in the rest of the room. Losing its distinctly Sehun features. That’s why he had zipped it up in a bag, hoping that somehow the flimsy plastic would slow the rate of loss like the way his mind is preventing his heart from moving on, or perhaps it is the other way around. Trapped together in the present with shadows of Sehun, not wanting to move on to a future without any form of him, but knowing that it can’t go back and recreate the real person.
Jongin had learned the hard lesson of the absoluteness of death when his first pet goldfish died, but that didn’t stop him from clinging to memories and smells. Didn’t make the blow of losing a best friend, an almost lover, any lighter. For what is one short-lived fish compared to a life-long friend?
Kyungsoo looks back at him with unwavering eyes. “I understand.”
Jongin almost believes he does. His death may have hit Jongin the hardest, but Sehun was his friend too, and now he’s also suffered the loss of his grandmother whom he’d always been close with. He seems to be coping better though, and Jongin wants to know why or how or what it takes to not fall apart the way he has, but then he remembers the desperately cold feeling of Kyungsoo’s hands and knows that on the insides he’s probably shattering into a million little pieces. He’s just better at hiding it.
“You can leave your clothes,” Jongin says finally. “I’ll put them in the dryer after I change and you can go watch TV or something. Maybe there’s a movie on.”
“Okay,” he nods and exits the room with heavy heart. There’s so much he wants to say and do but he doesn’t know how. Can’t figure out exactly what it is that needs to happen to help his once friend, or maybe even still friend, out of his current disposition. It’s hard for him to think of positive things when he’s also in the process of sinking into his own form of desolate oblivion.
In a haze of incoherent and unorganized thoughts he sits down on the sofa in the living room and flicks on the TV and spends his time channel surfing until Jongin finally joins him. Uninterested in everything offered to him, he settles for watching Transformers because it’s the only movie that isn’t already halfway over or already playing the credits.
“So….. um… college…” Jongin prompts after he settles down on the couch next to Kyungsoo. Better late than never he supposes. Besides, he needs to talk about something to distract him from what happened earlier. While loading their clothes into the dryer he’d almost burst into tears.
“Sucks.”
“Oh.” Maybe this wasn’t the best topic to choose.
The quiet hum of the television buzzes in the background before Kyungsoo responds. “I don’t know if I’m going back, actually. Can’t afford it right now even with scholarships. Thought of getting loans but then I’ll be in debt for the rest of my existence.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Didn’t really have a plan of what to do with myself anyways. Considered majoring in Art History, but then where would that even get me? I wish I could have been like you and Sehun with your perfect plans.”
“Don’t,” Jongin frowns. “Don’t wish it. It hasn’t gotten us anywhere. Sehun’s buried under a mound of dirt and I don’t even know if I’m going to attempt college right now. I’m going to be lucky if I graduate at the moment. Been missing so much school lately since it happened. I think they’re letting me off though since I used to be a good student.”
“Almost straight A’s.”
“Almost. Until I stopped showing up.”
“Does your mom know?”
“She has suspicions, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s not one for confrontations or serious conversations.”
“What about your dad?”
“He moved to Colorado, got remarried, apparently to a woman with three kids. Sent me a family picture of them for Christmas. Sehun burned it to ashes with a Bunsen burner during Chemistry. The sub wasn’t quite sure what to do with us. But, uh, yeah, we don’t talk anymore.”
“Wow, I mean, I knew you guys didn’t really get along. But that’s…. that’s just rude and inconsiderate. It’s like shoving it in your face that he’s found a better family than the one he originally had,” Kyungsoo frowns. “Sometimes I wish people weren’t so replaceable.”
“I don’t think people are replaceable.” Clearly. He can’t even get over Sehun. “Do you really think that?”
Kyungsoo watches Jongin fiddle around with his fingers for a few seconds before answering. “Only sometimes. Some people don’t deserve to be remembered but some people can never be replaced.” Like Sehun, he wants to say, but he’s sure Jongin already knows that.
“I guess.”
The pizza deliveryman arrives in a rather dry fashion. Surprisingly, the rain has stopped. Tinges of summer night sky peak through cracks in the remaining clouds. Still slightly tinted with purples and pinks to the west, but deep and dark to the east. The change in color denoting the change in time. Jongin wishes his mind were showing the same signs of progression. That he could somehow, once again, get a grasp on forward motion. Unstick his thoughts from the past without forgetting them, but still being able to move on.
He places the pizza down on the coffee table and then grabs paper plates, a shit load of napkins, and two Pepsi’s from the fridge. Just for the sake of nostalgia, he puts one of them back and grabs a Sprite. Sehun hated Pepsi so he’d always opted for a Sprite when they had pizza. It’d be like drinking a memory of Sehun, or maybe embodying him, but maybe that’s going too far. They’re eating pepperoni pizza anyway. He puts the Sprite back on the shelf, grabs another Pepsi, and walks back into the living room.
Carefully he places the drinks and the napkins down on the table. “Hope you’re okay with paper plates,” he says as he tosses one at Kyungsoo. Obviously he hadn’t expected anything to be thrown at him because he misses it and it lands all the way across the room on the floor. Or maybe he’s just not good at catching things in general.
“It’s not a Frisbee, Jongin,” he frowns. “And I was okay with it until it landed on your carpet. When was the last time you vacuumed it?”
“Just making sure you’re still awake. And, I dunno, maybe a week ago?”
“Making sure I’m still awake?” he snorts. “You’re the one that always falls asleep on the couch. And, gross, I think I’ll go get another one.”
“Suit yourself,” Jongin smirks and settles into the couch.
Poking his tongue out in protest, Kyungsoo retrieves the dirtied plate and goes into the kitchen to replace it with a fresh one. His stomach grumbles nonstop until he’s back on the couch with a hefty slice of pizza clamped between his jaws. Food is good. If his stomach were its own being, it’d probably be crying with tears of joy while eating right now. He licks some grease off of his lips and makes a mental note that peanut butter and toast is not enough to get him through the day. Even with a practically empty fridge he’s got to be able to find more to eat before he goes to work or he swears he’s going to die of starvation.
They sit there, eating their pizza and mindlessly watching Transformers until Kyungsoo breaks the somewhat silence. “You loved him, didn’t you?” he asks between bites of heavenly cheese and pepperoni.
Jongin cocks his head to one side. “Maybe.” More like yes, hopelessly so.
“You know I liked you, right?” I still like you, Kyungsoo wants to say.
“No.”
“Sehun knew.” Wanting to gauge his reaction, Kyungsoo stares at Jongin intently, but he’s masked his face well. Almost perfectly expressionless except for the slight twitch of his lips, trying too hard to hide the little twinge of pain at the mention of Sehun.
“Sehun knew a lot of things.”
“But he kept a lot of secrets.”
“…”
“From both of us.”
“Do you still like me?” Jongin asks, hoping to change the subject to something lighter. Though he’s willing to spill everything, he’s not quite ready to do it just yet. Depressing conversations aren’t meant to be had while consuming large amounts of greasy pizza and Pepsi.
“Maybe.” A blush is already spreading across his cheeks. He’s never been good at lying.
“Only maybe?”
Kyungsoo nods. Words will only betray him.
“I maybe liked you.” At the moment it’s hard for him to admit that the “liked” is still more of a “like”, has always been a sort of “like” that’s just been vastly overshadowed by his love for Sehun.
“But you loved him.”
“So what? It’s not impossible to like more than one person. You were my number two.”
“Ouch. Only second place? And I don’t even get a ribbon or something? Do Kyungsoo, Jongin’s Second Best Man.”
“Jongin’s Second Biggest Crush.”
“No, that’s glorifying it too much.”
“But it’s true,” he mumbles.
“Don’t lie,” Kyungsoo whispers meekly.
“I’m not lying, Do Kyungsoo.”
“So, if I kissed you, you wouldn’t hate me or think I’m gross or something?”
Now Jongin’s all too aware of how close together they are sitting on the couch. Kyungsoo’s blue shorts pressed against Jongin’s rough jeans. Thighs pressing warmth into each other. Shoulders almost touching. The closeness is comforting. He notes that, just like Sehun, Kyungsoo has a smell that is distinctly him. Soft and earthy like new potatoes but fresh like newly cut flowers. He smells like hard work and sweat. Human and real. Not a tangible memory.
“No,” he assures him with absolute conviction.
Kyungsoo turns his body so he’s facing him. One leg tucked under him, the other one dangling off the couch. Pizza forgotten on the table. “No?” he breathes and reaches out a hand to cup the younger boy’s cheek, awkwardly cold fingers pressing softly into the heat of Jongin’s skin while the other presses nervously into the couch cushions. The slight shake of Jongin’s head is enough assurance for Kyungsoo who leans forward slightly and touches their lips together.
It’s not demanding at first. Just a brush of pizza coated lips until Jongin reaches out a hand and pulls Kyungsoo in closer, parting his lips and encouraging him to deepen the kiss. Kyungsoo is forced to release his grip on the couch and place it on Jongin’s waist to stop himself from awkwardly toppling over, thumb loosely tracing over the feel of Jongin’s hipbone through his clothes. He’s skinnier than he remembers him being. Somehow Jongin’s hands find themselves tangled in Kyungsoo’s hair. It’s dryer now and has slightly resumed its normal bounce. The kiss is by no means rushed. Every movement slow and deliberate, drawing things out until both of them have no choice but to breathe.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he murmurs when they part.
The younger boy smiles. “You taste like pizza.”
“You think you taste any different?”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he sniggers. “And of course I do. I taste like Jongin.”
“And I don’t taste like Kyungsoo?”
Jongin shakes his head, but, to be honest, he thinks the taste of Kyungsoo is very distinct. In fact, he tastes nearly as good as he smells and Jongin thinks he smells pretty damn good.
“You’re weird.”
“But you like me anyway, so it doesn’t matter,” he shrugs as they settle back into their normal positions, both sort of wanting more, but not really sure if now is really the time for that. Plus their pizza is getting cold and pizza is never as good when you have to reheat it.
“Maybe I’m weird for liking you,” Kyungsoo sighs and takes a bite of his pizza. His face is still slightly flushed, breathing a bit shallow and body still tingling from before. The hunger for food replaced with a hunger for Jongin. He’s waited forever to do that. Held back for ages because he was never sure what Jongin thought of him and because there was always Sehun. Even a blind man could tell how much Jongin hung on Sehun’s every word and gesture like a helpless puppy. But apparently Sehun was oblivious to it all. Jongin, for some reason, was never a part of his plan. At least not as more than a friend.
A bit over halfway through the movie Jongin’s head begins to droop, heavy with sleep. Even with the constant explosions and metallic clashing sounds he can’t seem to keep his eyes open. Head constantly tilting left or right, then jerking up straight. Eyes snapping open only to close again. Who knew Transformers was so boring?
A few times, Kyungsoo even has to reach out his hand and prevent him from toppling completely forward. Each time he insists that Jongin go to bed. It’s getting really late and he should go home anyway, but Jongin resists. Returns his body to an upright position and peels his eyes open for a few more minutes until the process repeats again and he finally ends up with his head on Kyungsoo’s lap, completely passed out. Kyungsoo gives up and lets him sleep until the movie finishes and then gently shakes his shoulder to wake him up.
“Hey kid, wake up.” He runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair, trying to pull him out of his sleep without being too rude.
Jongin grumbles something unintelligible and turns so that he’s looking up at Kyungsoo. “Did you just call me kid?”
“Maybe.”
“You haven’t called me that since freshman year,” he groans and Kyungsoo chuckles. “I can see up your nose.”
“Do I need a tissue or something?” Self-consciously he lifts up one of his hands and covers it, now under the impression that he has giant balls of snot clogging it up.
“Psh, no,” Jongin snorts. “It was merely an observation.”
“Oh good,” he sighs and continues to run his fingers through Jongin’s hair. Silky, black, and smooth. Kyungsoo has always preferred the stark straightness of Jongin’s hair to the typical unruly bounce of his own. “I should go. It’s really late…”
“Stay… please.” Jongin can’t mask the pleading sound from entering his voice. His eyes reflect despair and loneliness. Dreading the second he’s left alone with his thoughts. Most nights he wouldn’t mind it. More time to replay memories of Sehun, but tonight he feels different. He wants someone to whisper to in the darkness and to curl up next to in bed like when he used to sneak into parent’s room when he was younger and squish himself between them. Way before Colorado and a wife with three kids happened. Jongin hopes never to have to meet them.
“Alright, but let’s at least get off this couch and go to bed.”
“Okay,” he nods and reluctantly removes himself from Kyungsoo’s lap.
They quickly clean up the remains of their pizza and Jongin pulls Kyungsoo up the stairs and into bed.
“Don’t you want to put pajamas on or something? You’re still wearing jeans.”
“Ugh, fine.” Jongin slips out of bed, strips off his jeans and shirt and settles for putting on a new shirt and leaving on his boxers.
“Close enough,” Kyungsoo laughs and Jongin crawls back into bed and settles himself on his side between Kyungsoo’s arms.
“If you prefer, I could always go shirtless,” he retorts and buries his head in Kyungsoo’s shoulder, breathing in his comforting smell. He may be taller than Kyungsoo when they’re standing, but lying down he can make it seem as if they’re exactly the same. Eyes staring straight ahead instead of down. He likes the feeling of being on the same level with him.
“That’s not what I meant, but I suppose I wouldn’t mind sleeping next to a shirtless Jongin.”
“Well, too bad. I’m already comfortable so I’m not moving so I can strip for you more.”
“Maybe next time.”
“You wish.”
“I do.”
Jongin pulls back and raises an eyebrow. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me without a shirt before.”
“I know. But for some reason, it means more to me now than it did before. Now shut up and go to sleep. I’m tired and I see no point in staying awake if I can’t stare at your half-naked body.”
“Whatever,” he snorts, but sleep doesn’t want to come. Not now at least. He’s too awake after taking his little nap.
Minutes ago he could hardly keep his eyes open, but now he’s wide awake, like someone’s gone and stuck his lids open with invisible tape. Thoughts bounce around careless in his mind. Words keep rolling to the tip of his tongue, but he bites them back. He wants to talk, but he’s not entirely sure what he wants to say or who he wants to say it. Lying in his barren room with Kyungsoo here beside him makes him want get all the words he’s suppressed for the past two months off his chest but he doesn’t know how to start.
“What is it?” The sound is oddly unexpected in the darkness.
“What?”
“I can tell you’re getting anxious. You’re body’s tensing up.”
“I just-I don’t know what to say,” he sighs out of frustration. His emotions are all over the place today, but maybe that’s better than the previously constant dull sensations of emptiness. With Kyungsoo around he’s been able to smile and laugh a little, but his mind always wanders back to sinister thoughts, willing him to spit them out so that the world can hear him instead of the constant screaming in his head.
“You can tell me, you know, about Sehun, if that’s what this is about. I’m not just going to spit meaningless phrases back at you if I can help it. I won’t tell you it was an accident like everyone else. Even if I haven’t spoken to him for almost a year, I knew him well enough to know that whatever he did was on purpose.”
“It’s hard to just talk about it after not saying a thing for so long is all.”
“There’s no rush, really. Just say it when you feel ready. When the mess of words and feelings in your head sort themselves out and you can form them into something coherent. I’ll wait for it.”
“Okay.”
They lie there for a few minutes. Bodies impossibly close and pulsating with heat. It’s funny to think that hours ago the two of them were boiling out of their skin in the heat but now, in the overly air conditioned house, they cling to each other and wrap themselves in the welcome warmth of each others body heat. Kyungsoo rubs small circles on Jongin’s back, slowly moving over the rigid muscles, teasing them into relaxation.
After a few deep breaths, Jongin begins to set his words in order and talk. He doesn’t want to go too into detail, but he knows that even with great concentration what he’s about to say will probably come out in one big rush and he’ll be gasping for breath and the end of it. But that’s okay, because it’s not like letting it out will mean he can never breathe again. This is something he needs to do, because someone has to know, and he knows that Kyungsoo is probably the best person he can tell it to, and so he speaks. Moves away to give himself space to sit up, and lets it all out.
“He called me before it happened that night,” Jongin murmurs, words starting out quiet and then slowly gaining momentum. “Earlier, he’d come over to my house, acting like typical Sehun, being a dick and eating all the food in my fridge, trying to steal my video games, and making fun of me for being awkward around Jessica Hamilton this one night at this party that he dragged me to. Just his normal self. And then, halfway through watching Shawn of the Dead he kissed me and started whispering about how he would miss me, babbling on about what a world without me would be like, and then kissing me again to the point where both of us were nearly suffocating, and then he left. Gone. Sprinted up off of the couch and out the front door, leaving his school bag and everything. Halfway through the fucking movie, right after kissing me, he just fucking leaves. Then calls me half an hour later, telling me that maybe he loved me, but only maybe because love isn’t part of his plan, three fucking minutes before driving into fucking oncoming traffic and getting fucking squished under a giant fucking truck. I could even hear the truck horn before they collided. Didn’t even get to yell at him to watch out even though I couldn’t see what was going on.” He takes a gulp of air now; sucking in the oxygen he’d denied himself while trying to get all the words out of his mouth.
There’s more he could have said, like how much it hurts to be told that someone’s only maybe in love with you because you aren’t part of their plans. How inside of one Sehun’s journals he’d found a list of possible future without him, none of them really considering how deeply affected anyone, especially Jongin, would feel after such a loss. Shallow and surface level. Almost devoid of emotions. How deep it cuts to realize that perhaps if things had not been so intricately thought out, if Sehun had not stuck so desperately to his plans, that maybe there’d be room for Jongin. That maybe he wouldn’t spend every day and every night thinking about how the person he loved was one giant fucking asshole that he couldn’t help but miss.
But, for now, it feels good to at least get the main parts of it out. To finally explain what exactly occurred that night to someone other than a police officer who couldn’t give two shits about what he said, to whom he didn’t even entirely tell the truth. To know that Kyungsoo cares.
He can sense that Kyungsoo almost knows the unspoken words anyways. He’s always been more observant than Jongin when it comes to these things. Like he’d said earlier, Sehun kept secrets, but Kyungsoo always seemed to find them out or at least had suspicions. Sometimes he wondered if he was only Sehun’s best friend during high school because he didn’t discover the dirty truth in everything. Perhaps that’s why Sehun had underestimated how much it would hurt for him to be gone.
“He even knew peak hours for truck driving,” he adds as an afterthought, remembering another one of the pages he’d read in Sehun’s notes.
“Oh Sehun. That little fucker,” Kyungsoo growls and Jongin stiffens again at the harshness of the sound. “My apologies, that was rude.”
“It’s okay. I mean you were right about earlier, about him keeping secrets. So even though it hurts, and even though I’m stuck in this weird sort of limbo between moving on and getting totally stuck in the past, I can’t deny it either. He’s done lots of things, horrible things, but I still liked him, because he wasn’t always bad. He just went too far and didn’t seem to know it, which is probably the worst part. Hurts the most. Selfish of him. But maybe he was stuck too, and needed someone to talk to, like I’m now talking to you, but didn’t consider either of us good enough, which still hurts like a bitch though. But, ugh, what am I even saying anymore?”
“You’re trying to fill in the gaps that he isn’t here to compensate for, to justify unjustifiable acts. But really, he’s the only one that can do that.” Kyungsoo sits up and runs his hand along Jongin’s forearms, then laces their fingers together.
“I guess,” he sighs and stares at their fingers. Kyungsoo’s hands feel considerably warmer now. “I’m just weirdly happy that you understand what I mean when I say some things aren’t an accident and that you seem to understand my word vomit.”
“The word vomit could have been worse,” he smiles.
Jongin tugs both of them back into a lying position and sighs. “I’d like to think he did it for fun, ya know? Just a little thrill. Typical Oh Sehun Moment of Stupidity type of thing.”
Kyungsoo shrugs. “There are many things I’d like to think. But most of those things will never be true. That’s why they’re only thoughts. Private and locked away in my mind to rot forever.”
“I know. It doesn’t really fit his personality anyway,” he sighs again and turns his head away from Kyungsoo, not wanting him to see the thin sheen of liquid already glazing across his eyelids. “Oh Sehun only does what he plans and he never does something halfway. He’s dead because he wants to be, because some things aren’t an accident.” It’s as if the latter part of that sentence has become his new mantra. A chant to whisper to himself before going to bed and after waking. He’s almost sick of hearing himself say it now.
“But that doesn’t mean they were well thought out plans,” Kyungsoo interjects.
“Or it’s just that not all plans are good ones.”
“Right.”
They’re quiet for a few minutes, both lying on their backs with their hands still interlocked. The silence allows them to absorb the magnitude of their conversation. Gives them time to accept and to take consolation in the shared knowing. Jongin even thinks he feels a little lighter inside. A bit brighter, like the way his house looks dilapidated on the outside, but is all color and smiles on the inside. Maybe one day, he’ll get his exterior to match is interior again.
Time slowly ticks by on the clock on Mickey Mouse clock on the bedside table. It’s nearly 2:30.
“Is it true that you got a detention for cussing out Mr. Baker and storming out of class?” Kyungsoo asks suddenly.
“Yeah. It was three days after Sehun died. I wasn’t thinking right.”
“There has to be more to it than that.” Kyungsoo squeezes Jongin’s hand and runs his thumb across one of his knuckles.
“He was insulting Sehun, saying how the world would be a better place without him. You know how he liked goofing off in chem lab.”
“Maybe not chem lab, but I heard plenty of stories about bio,” he says and cracks a smile.
Jongin turns on his side, releasing their fingers and propping his head up in his hand. “So what else have you heard…. About me?”
“They say you punched Ashlee Hendrickson in the boob.”
“She deserved it.”
“But she’s a girl,” he says unconvincingly.
“Why does it matter? It’s acceptable for her to try to yank my nuts off and call me a retarded fag but it’s not okay for me to punch her in the breast? I’m sorry, did I just ruin her potential lifetime supply of baby milk? She could have just ruined entire Jongin generations. Life’s a fucking double-edged sword and I’m the only one getting sliced here.”
“But the majority of society still thinks it’s wrong to punch a girl no matter what. Even if she was about to claw your nuts off.”
“Well fuck the majority of society.”
“Too many STDs,” Kyungsoo sighs and rolls over in the bed. “Or, wait, are they called STIs now? I can’t keep track. Every time I take a health related course they’ve got a new name.”
“You’re gross. What happened to the Angel Kyungsoo that I once knew who started babbling on about chastity and turned beet red when there was the slightest mention of sex?”
“Angel Kyungsoo vanished when he got raped at a homecoming football party. Good luck finding him again. Now all that’s left is Financially Incapable Mentally Fucked Up Kyungsoo.”
“…”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you all of that…”
“It’s okay. I mean, are you okay?”
“Yes? I don’t know? Maybe. I still haven’t quite wrapped my brain around it fully. I think I’m afraid to… accept it…” he whispers.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jongin hisses. This is all too much. He wishes he could go back to the days when throwing a tantrum and smashing things was more acceptable because he’d really like to shred everything in his room to pieces. So much has changed in less than a year in so many wrong ways. Nausea bubbles up in his stomach. He wants to punch things. He wants to slice away every inch of life around him. He wants to live in nostalgic memories and not feel like everything is slipping away. All his plans turning into sand and dust between his fingers just like Sehun. His hands ball into tight fists, scrunching up the bed sheets. The soft fabric prevents his fingernails from digging too deep into his skin though he very much wants to bleed. The same irrational feelings that consumed him when Sehun first died threaten to take over again.
“Jongin, please calm down.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to react like that. I know it must be much worse for you. It’s just….”
“Too much?”
“Yeah. I just… ugh…” he sticks his tongue out in disgust, as if some wretched flavored candy has been forced down his throat and all he can do now is gag because of the aftertaste.
“You don’t have to say anything really. I know you understand and I think the both of us are pretty sick of words of comfort right now. No matter how heartfelt it may be, hearing the phrase ‘I’m sorry’ a million times within a short period gets to be too much. It’s just nice that you’re here and that I finally told someone. It hurts to hold it in for so long.”
“You haven’t told anyone?”
“Not a soul.”
“Not to be insensitive or anything but why?”
“Shame.”
Jongin nods. That’s something he can understand. Even though Sehun’s death wasn’t necessarily his fault, he feels shame for knowing that Sehun did it on purpose. His life ended by choice. Shame for letting his grief control his life, for turning him into an unsociable failure. Shame for being weak and afraid and constantly on the verge of tears. Two months of shame. He can’t imagine how long Kyungsoo has lived with his. Shame is smothering. Smokey and thick like the humidity outside after the rain on this blistering hot day. Suffocating.
He stares at Kyungsoo for a few minutes. Eyes roaming over the length of his body, trying to imagine what he must have looked like after it happened. Hurt and lost. Alone. Just like how he felt, but different. His body hadn’t been violated by anyone. Sure, his heart had practically been torn out and stomped on and shredded and then sewn back together and shoved back in his body, but he hadn’t physically been tortured. In fact, he’d hardly let anyone touch him in the past few months.
No matter how hard he tries, or how much he thinks he can empathize, he’s not really sure he’ll know the full brunt of the pain Kyungsoo’s suffered. Maybe one day Kyungsoo will tell him more about what happened, just like how maybe one day he’ll tell him more about Sehun. But tonight they’ve gone as far as they can. Exhausted their supply of coherent thoughts and their abilities to keep the majority of their emotions in check. How neither of them has burst into endless streams of tears is rather a shock, but maybe it’s a sign they’re getting stronger now. Besides, there’s always tomorrow. And the next day. And they day after that. And when Kyungsoo maybe goes back to school, and Jongin maybe gets a job to occupy the time they’re apart, they’ll make sure to keep in contact and to see each other. They’ll pull each other forward in a way that they couldn’t do on their own.
Finally, Jongin sinks back into the mattress. “You know, I’m here for you too, if you ever want to talk more about it. I’ll wait for it. I’ll wait for you like you’ve done for me.”
“I know,” he smiles softly, suddenly tired after his unexpected confession. “Jongin, I think I might love you.” His words are sleepy and slurred. He can feel his eyes starting to droop with the need for sleep and dreams and for time for his mind to put everything in it’s place so that next time he can finally say what he’s been hiding for so many months.
“I’m not really sure what love is, but maybe I love you too,” Jongin smiles in return. The feeling of exhaustion hasn’t hit him quite as hard as it has Kyungsoo, but he’s certainly tired now. This is the most he’s said to anyone in a while. Probably the deepest conversation he’s had to date. But it feels nice to know that he’s found someone who will always understand, who he can talk to about meaningless and meaningful things. Who he can help just as much as that person can help him. To be a part of someone’s plan, even if they aren’t really the type to fully sketch out the map of their life. To be with Kyungsoo, who he’s always liked and hasn’t realized how much he’s missed this past year.
It feels solid. Grounded. Like the earthy smell of Kyungsoo’s skin. Safe.
Around 3:37 a.m. Jongin finally falls asleep with the comforting feeling of Kyungsoo’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close and pressing kisses into his forehead. It’s not Sehun, nothing will ever be Sehun, but it’s Kyungsoo and he’s always been second best.