[fic] breakdown
title: Breakdown
author: itachibana13
length: 1257 words
pairing(s) jongkey
rating: pg-13
genre: fluff
note: for jongkey 's remix challenge of siaht 's Silence Must Be Heard.
summary: It's that sound you can't hear that makes everything so imperfectly perfect.
Silence.
I love it.
But I hate it.
I don't even know. It's a big mess of confusion, melting into my mind, suffocating my thought process.
What I don't want to say, it spills out. What I do want to say, it's combined into a labyrinth, about to combust and say all the wrong things.
Avoid it. Don't speak. Don't say a word.
A person's conscience can be a scary thing.
And I just don't know what to do. Just sit aside, secluded, isolated, in my own little world. Until I can't handle it. And it's not too surprising either, he's realized from day one. He knows everything. So when my hand searches for his, meets, the look on his face never changes to shock as I pull him down the hallway, pushing him gently inside.
I don't scream, I don't yell. I don't go mentally insane or shout curses at the reflection in the mirror. It's all silent.
Silent because I hate it. Silent because I love it.
Silent because I don't know how to say it. I just grab onto him, pressing tightly, choked sobs drowning in unspoken words.
He knows. Definitely knows. If he doesn't, well, he's a damn good actor at pretending that he does. He just hugs back; I pour my soul out in the manifestation of teardrops. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate how he doesn't mind. He'll just hold me with those same strong arms. I'll just hide my face into the same toned chest. Cuddling, loathing, and feelings I just can't bring myself to say.
I'm sorry, I want to say, desperation clinging onto me. But the alarm in my head is always on red alert. Forbidden to say anything. The human mind is frightening.
Somehow, I don't care. Instinct takes over, and I grab him, nails raking into his back as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Slowly leaning over, my lips meet his cheeks. It feels nice, and I want more. But no. I can't. So I remain quiet, rest my head on his shoulder, take in the scent of his shampoo, and wish.
But, you know, Kim Kibum isn't always so calm.
When it's all anger, clouding my vision and hearing, I almost break down the door. As soon as he's in my sight, I run over, pulling on his arm roughly. It annoys me how his facial expression doesn't break. He simply lets me drag him down the corridor, cynical aura and all. When we reach the room, I still don't say anything.
I can't say anything; it's almost law now. So I start pounding on his chest, punching and kicking. But he takes it all. He accepts my inaudible screaming and yelling, he doesn't mind when I pin him to wall, fierce and aggressive, scratching at what I can get at. But it's all for nothing. Soon enough, I feel a rush of guilt. A rush of sadness, a rush of defeat. Kim Jonghyun has beaten me once again without even trying.
I almost feel like I win, but I know I don't. Not when I'm like this. Hysterically sobbing and I can feel the pain radiating from him. It doesn't stop me; it's never stopped me. But when it's with him, losing isn't so bad. So I drop my head onto his shoulder, take deep breathes, arms finding their place around his waist, and close my eyes.
Losing is amazing, actually. Because when I lose in this battle of emotions, it hits me hard. Fingers wrapping around his wrist, and footsteps sounding down the same hallway, it looks like it's almost staged. I pull him into the room, in a hurry for nothing. Then I fall onto him, hands grasping his shoulders to stand, I continue to sob. Sinking further, and further, inaudible words plaguing the air. It's an ignominy, really. My body grows weaker and weaker, knees buckling as I see him maliciously letting me cling into him, eyes saying everything he know he can't say because of this unspoken vow. I hate this vow. His eyes trouble me; they're the hardest to bear with.
He's too much, way too much. The procedure continues, but this time it's a painful bliss. Once we get into the room, he can see the lust radiating, feel it. In a matter of seconds, he's against the wall and I'm controlling him. The world goes upside down, and I just know that our lips are connected, and I'm moving in an uncontrollably fast pace. Soon I feel our tongues melting in with each other, and I don't know who started it, but I can feel fabric rubbing against fabric, and damn, does it feel good. My hands are moving by myself, and oh fuck, where's my shirt? Nevermind, I don't care. The only facets I can register are the sloppy kisses, uneven breaths taken, and soon that doesn't even matter anymore. When it all ends, I revel in the moments of silence. The nonexistent sound of our breathing, chests heaving up and down, and as he holds me close, I almost feel secure.
Melody. I feel like I can hear one now. It's completely silent, and I love it. I can't say it, don't want to say it; don't know how to say it. Was it fear, or do I just have too much pride? Or is it some other choice I've yet to see?
Then I feel guilty, oh so guilty, when I drag him down the hallway; it looks like he wants to speak. But he won't. He won't because he knows I hate it, he knows because he realizes that would be breaking the unspoken vow. The unspoken vow I loathe. That promise that has embedded itself into my skin, straining both our vocal cords. The depression engulfs me, and once again, I feel like crying. And I do, because he's there. He's in the room with me, and he won't care. I can cry. I could scream if I wanted to, and he wouldn't mind. Almost like my savior. But I'm setting the plague on him too. He wants to tell me something, it's easily visible in his eyes, but of course, he won't say it. I just stare into his eyes, waiting. Please, say it. Why did it spread to you, too? Keep staring, drowning... Falling again and again into his chocolate eyes, always waiting for forever.
Finally, I've had enough. I can't do this. I won't keep murdering him over and over. I don't want to, but for Jonghyun. For my Jonghyun.
"Don't be afraid," I say, higher than a whisper, but low enough. He flinches; I can tell he's surprised. My head is spinning already, and I frown. "Don't let my inaptness with words contaminate you."
He instantly replies sloppily, "I love you, Kibum." His comment almost seems foreign to him, the incoherency flickers across his eyes, but his face turns into a rosy pink color.
I've never seen such a beautiful color.
My lips find his, and this time, I'm not afraid. I express myself for the very first time, saying what I want to say, relishing in the fact that I can give myself to him without any doubt. I go weak in the knees, wrap my arms around him, and for the first time, the first time since I've dragged him from room to room, I smile into the kiss, and he understands.
I love you, too.
author: itachibana13
length: 1257 words
pairing(s) jongkey
rating: pg-13
genre: fluff
note: for jongkey 's remix challenge of siaht 's Silence Must Be Heard.
summary: It's that sound you can't hear that makes everything so imperfectly perfect.
Silence.
I love it.
But I hate it.
I don't even know. It's a big mess of confusion, melting into my mind, suffocating my thought process.
What I don't want to say, it spills out. What I do want to say, it's combined into a labyrinth, about to combust and say all the wrong things.
Avoid it. Don't speak. Don't say a word.
A person's conscience can be a scary thing.
And I just don't know what to do. Just sit aside, secluded, isolated, in my own little world. Until I can't handle it. And it's not too surprising either, he's realized from day one. He knows everything. So when my hand searches for his, meets, the look on his face never changes to shock as I pull him down the hallway, pushing him gently inside.
I don't scream, I don't yell. I don't go mentally insane or shout curses at the reflection in the mirror. It's all silent.
Silent because I hate it. Silent because I love it.
Silent because I don't know how to say it. I just grab onto him, pressing tightly, choked sobs drowning in unspoken words.
He knows. Definitely knows. If he doesn't, well, he's a damn good actor at pretending that he does. He just hugs back; I pour my soul out in the manifestation of teardrops. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate how he doesn't mind. He'll just hold me with those same strong arms. I'll just hide my face into the same toned chest. Cuddling, loathing, and feelings I just can't bring myself to say.
I'm sorry, I want to say, desperation clinging onto me. But the alarm in my head is always on red alert. Forbidden to say anything. The human mind is frightening.
Somehow, I don't care. Instinct takes over, and I grab him, nails raking into his back as I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. Slowly leaning over, my lips meet his cheeks. It feels nice, and I want more. But no. I can't. So I remain quiet, rest my head on his shoulder, take in the scent of his shampoo, and wish.
But, you know, Kim Kibum isn't always so calm.
When it's all anger, clouding my vision and hearing, I almost break down the door. As soon as he's in my sight, I run over, pulling on his arm roughly. It annoys me how his facial expression doesn't break. He simply lets me drag him down the corridor, cynical aura and all. When we reach the room, I still don't say anything.
I can't say anything; it's almost law now. So I start pounding on his chest, punching and kicking. But he takes it all. He accepts my inaudible screaming and yelling, he doesn't mind when I pin him to wall, fierce and aggressive, scratching at what I can get at. But it's all for nothing. Soon enough, I feel a rush of guilt. A rush of sadness, a rush of defeat. Kim Jonghyun has beaten me once again without even trying.
I almost feel like I win, but I know I don't. Not when I'm like this. Hysterically sobbing and I can feel the pain radiating from him. It doesn't stop me; it's never stopped me. But when it's with him, losing isn't so bad. So I drop my head onto his shoulder, take deep breathes, arms finding their place around his waist, and close my eyes.
Losing is amazing, actually. Because when I lose in this battle of emotions, it hits me hard. Fingers wrapping around his wrist, and footsteps sounding down the same hallway, it looks like it's almost staged. I pull him into the room, in a hurry for nothing. Then I fall onto him, hands grasping his shoulders to stand, I continue to sob. Sinking further, and further, inaudible words plaguing the air. It's an ignominy, really. My body grows weaker and weaker, knees buckling as I see him maliciously letting me cling into him, eyes saying everything he know he can't say because of this unspoken vow. I hate this vow. His eyes trouble me; they're the hardest to bear with.
He's too much, way too much. The procedure continues, but this time it's a painful bliss. Once we get into the room, he can see the lust radiating, feel it. In a matter of seconds, he's against the wall and I'm controlling him. The world goes upside down, and I just know that our lips are connected, and I'm moving in an uncontrollably fast pace. Soon I feel our tongues melting in with each other, and I don't know who started it, but I can feel fabric rubbing against fabric, and damn, does it feel good. My hands are moving by myself, and oh fuck, where's my shirt? Nevermind, I don't care. The only facets I can register are the sloppy kisses, uneven breaths taken, and soon that doesn't even matter anymore. When it all ends, I revel in the moments of silence. The nonexistent sound of our breathing, chests heaving up and down, and as he holds me close, I almost feel secure.
Melody. I feel like I can hear one now. It's completely silent, and I love it. I can't say it, don't want to say it; don't know how to say it. Was it fear, or do I just have too much pride? Or is it some other choice I've yet to see?
Then I feel guilty, oh so guilty, when I drag him down the hallway; it looks like he wants to speak. But he won't. He won't because he knows I hate it, he knows because he realizes that would be breaking the unspoken vow. The unspoken vow I loathe. That promise that has embedded itself into my skin, straining both our vocal cords. The depression engulfs me, and once again, I feel like crying. And I do, because he's there. He's in the room with me, and he won't care. I can cry. I could scream if I wanted to, and he wouldn't mind. Almost like my savior. But I'm setting the plague on him too. He wants to tell me something, it's easily visible in his eyes, but of course, he won't say it. I just stare into his eyes, waiting. Please, say it. Why did it spread to you, too? Keep staring, drowning... Falling again and again into his chocolate eyes, always waiting for forever.
Finally, I've had enough. I can't do this. I won't keep murdering him over and over. I don't want to, but for Jonghyun. For my Jonghyun.
"Don't be afraid," I say, higher than a whisper, but low enough. He flinches; I can tell he's surprised. My head is spinning already, and I frown. "Don't let my inaptness with words contaminate you."
He instantly replies sloppily, "I love you, Kibum." His comment almost seems foreign to him, the incoherency flickers across his eyes, but his face turns into a rosy pink color.
I've never seen such a beautiful color.
My lips find his, and this time, I'm not afraid. I express myself for the very first time, saying what I want to say, relishing in the fact that I can give myself to him without any doubt. I go weak in the knees, wrap my arms around him, and for the first time, the first time since I've dragged him from room to room, I smile into the kiss, and he understands.
I love you, too.