Bad Water Bad Water
Title: Bad Water Bad Water
Rating: pg-13
Pairing: 2min
Genre: AU
Author/Artist Note: currently unedited, character death
Minho closed his eyes and brought his knees to his chest. He pressed his face down until his eye sockets were pushing into his kneecaps and bursts of white showed against his eyelids. He couldn’t hear his breathing anymore, but he knew it was loud. It was drowned out by the doctor and his best friend’s father though, not that anyone would have blamed him for his harsh breathing. He just felt like it was rude. He didn’t want to be rude.
“What you mean there’s no chance?”
Minho saw faceless children surrounding him as the colors went black. They chanted.
Bad water, bad water, bad water.
“Nothing’s a hundred percent Sir, but this is a strand we haven’t seen before. There’s nothing that we know of that can help him.”
“There has to be something! There’s always something. Call in someone from the city! I don’t give a fuck, you just have to do something.”
Minho opened his eyes and shook his head. The children scattered away into the light.
“We’re trying Sir but we don’t know if will be able to contact anyone before it’s too late, but even the doctors from the city haven’t seen this before. The most we can do is pray.”
“Don’t you dare try and tell me to pray, don’t you fucking dare.”
Minho stood up from his seat. Despite still being a boy, at full height he was a man.
“I want to see him.”
The two older men looked at him for a second, surprised by the new addition to their conversation.
“Minho you can’t see him. He’s sick.”
Minho nodded.
The doctor shifted his weight before adding to what the other man had said, “Even with medical robes it isn’t safe to see him. I’ve signed an oath as a doctor to take this risk, you’re just a boy. It’s not safe.”
Minho calmly nodded again untroubled at the older men not understanding. He moved towards the room.
“Minho,”
Minho caught the arm before it could rest on his shoulder.
“With all due respect Sir, he’s dying, and I’m not going to let him do it alone.”
When Minho entered the room he was impressed with how composed he felt. The boy lay on top of white bed sheets wet with sweat, shaking as if he was cold. The sun was streaming in through a window and Minho could see the dust particles swirling within the beam of light. As he took another step they disappeared from his sight. Was that how simple it was? To disappear like that?
“Taemin-“
The way the boy’s face looked pained just to tilt his head in the direction of his voice broke his heart. He felt his hands tremble as he moved to stroke the sides of Taemin’s face.
“You would come.” Taemin smiled weakly to himself as he scoffed.
“Of course.”
Taemin tried to shift to make more room on the bed as he felt Minho’s weight dip near his hip. Minho gently grabbed his shoulders to stop his struggling.
“You’re dying.”
Taemin nodded slowly, the humor in his face now gone as he asked Minho,
“Is it because I loved you?”
Minho shook his head.
“No. Taemin I loved you back.”
Taemin smiled sadly casting his eyes down away from Minho.
“Minho I never loved you like a brother.”
Minho felt his forehead wrinkle, he knew they hadn’t said it, they hadn’t talked about it, but it upset him to think that Taemin could ever doubt him anyway.
“Neither did I.”
He laced his fingers with Taemin’s. He wanted to squeeze them, to reassure him, but it would have only hurt.
“Was I bad?” Taemin didn’t sound frustrated, just curious.
“No Taemin. Nothing you did was wrong.”
“Does god know that? Does god know I did nothing wrong?”
Minho felt his eyes get wet, but he refused to let tears fall. He held Taemin’s hands in his lap. Taemin had always been strong. Confident. But now he was just a scared boy dying on a bed.
Minho’s voice broke as he asked,
“Get me sick.”
Taemin blinked just like when they were younger. It only made Minho feel more certain.
“Taemin, baby get me sick.”
“Minho no- I’m not that selfish.”
Minho felt anger at the rest of the world. He was upset it had tricked Taemin into thinking it had something for him without Taemin there. It didn’t matter though. He knew he could make Taemin understand.
“Baby please, get me sick.”
He unlocked their fingers and moved to cradle Taemin’s head in his lap.
He begged.
“Taemin, Taemin I want to get sick with you. I want to get sick from you.”
He nuzzled Taemin’s ear with his nose and licked at his face as he whispered over and over again,
“Taemin please, baby please, get me sick. I wanna be sick.”
Taemin finally nodded, just the tip of his chin moving as he let his eyes close. Minho kissed him, and Taemin couldn’t kiss back, but he let his mouth fall open, let Minho take pieces of him from deep inside.
Soft wet noises filled the afternoon air as Minho’s voice gently drifted in and out of Taemin’s ears,
“I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Minho rocked Taemin back and forth as he threw up. He drew small circles with his thumb into the feverish skin. He soothed him when he couldn’t even cry anymore from so much pain. He felt proud at well he was able to take care of Taemin in those last hours. How he was able to say with an honest voice, “its okay. It’ll be okay.” How Taemin even repeated it back to him at first.
But then Taemin’s whole body began to quiver and this time it didn’t stop. He looked up at him as if he might cry, and all the acceptance he had worked so hard to build up left. All of the logical understanding, the letting go, was over.
Taemin blinked wildly in panic as if maybe that would make it all go away. Minho held him closer to hear his voice as he asked him,
“Minho kiss me again”
He kissed him. He kept kissing him as he cried, he kissed him as he stopped responding, he kissed him after his own stomach hurt and his lips were raw. He only stopped when he could no longer. He let his weight fall down on top of the boy he loved. The little dead boy he loved and he felt things inside of him twist and knot and erupt.
It didn’t feel heroic. He hadn’t expected it to. And he never wanted to suffer long. He didn’t think he deserved to. Unlike Taemin he was unconcerned how any god felt, he doubted they even cared. But he prayed he’d die soon anyway.
He crawled across the floor to a dresser, knocking things over and throwing them about in slow motion. He searched for something, anything to make it go faster. There were pills and whiskey in the back, hidden inside a hollowed book. He force fed himself as many as he could, choking on and spilling alcohol as he went. Finally he could feel not just his body ache, but his brain shut down.
He clawed his way back across the floor but he could no longer lift himself onto the bed. He tugged at the sheets as his sight flashed in and out. He knew he was delirious as the faceless children reappeared. He groaned, knowing he would lose conscious soon. He wasn’t sure how, because he knew he wasn’t strong enough, but Taemin’s body was dumped on the floor next to him in a tumble of linen. Minho sighed, comforted that their skin was touching again.
He arranged the sheets and limbs as best he could so that people would know how beautiful his boy had really been. The children nodded in approval as he wrapped himself loosely around the body and sang himself the song he used to sing Taemin when the nights were too cold to sleep alone.
No one else would see them again besides the men with with carts that came to take them away. Panic of the water struck the cities, and the doctors never came.
He felt a surge of happiness knowing he was finally going now. That he might get to see Taemin again. Maybe they’d be angels together. Taemin would be a beautiful shining fucked up angel. And why not?
They were just two little dead boys. They had done nothing wrong.
Inspired by this picture as well as this song. I don't know the artist of the picture because I just saw it on tumblr and no source was given but if anyone does please let me know.
Rating: pg-13
Pairing: 2min
Genre: AU
Author/Artist Note: currently unedited, character death
Minho closed his eyes and brought his knees to his chest. He pressed his face down until his eye sockets were pushing into his kneecaps and bursts of white showed against his eyelids. He couldn’t hear his breathing anymore, but he knew it was loud. It was drowned out by the doctor and his best friend’s father though, not that anyone would have blamed him for his harsh breathing. He just felt like it was rude. He didn’t want to be rude.
“What you mean there’s no chance?”
Minho saw faceless children surrounding him as the colors went black. They chanted.
Bad water, bad water, bad water.
“Nothing’s a hundred percent Sir, but this is a strand we haven’t seen before. There’s nothing that we know of that can help him.”
“There has to be something! There’s always something. Call in someone from the city! I don’t give a fuck, you just have to do something.”
Minho opened his eyes and shook his head. The children scattered away into the light.
“We’re trying Sir but we don’t know if will be able to contact anyone before it’s too late, but even the doctors from the city haven’t seen this before. The most we can do is pray.”
“Don’t you dare try and tell me to pray, don’t you fucking dare.”
Minho stood up from his seat. Despite still being a boy, at full height he was a man.
“I want to see him.”
The two older men looked at him for a second, surprised by the new addition to their conversation.
“Minho you can’t see him. He’s sick.”
Minho nodded.
The doctor shifted his weight before adding to what the other man had said, “Even with medical robes it isn’t safe to see him. I’ve signed an oath as a doctor to take this risk, you’re just a boy. It’s not safe.”
Minho calmly nodded again untroubled at the older men not understanding. He moved towards the room.
“Minho,”
Minho caught the arm before it could rest on his shoulder.
“With all due respect Sir, he’s dying, and I’m not going to let him do it alone.”
When Minho entered the room he was impressed with how composed he felt. The boy lay on top of white bed sheets wet with sweat, shaking as if he was cold. The sun was streaming in through a window and Minho could see the dust particles swirling within the beam of light. As he took another step they disappeared from his sight. Was that how simple it was? To disappear like that?
“Taemin-“
The way the boy’s face looked pained just to tilt his head in the direction of his voice broke his heart. He felt his hands tremble as he moved to stroke the sides of Taemin’s face.
“You would come.” Taemin smiled weakly to himself as he scoffed.
“Of course.”
Taemin tried to shift to make more room on the bed as he felt Minho’s weight dip near his hip. Minho gently grabbed his shoulders to stop his struggling.
“You’re dying.”
Taemin nodded slowly, the humor in his face now gone as he asked Minho,
“Is it because I loved you?”
Minho shook his head.
“No. Taemin I loved you back.”
Taemin smiled sadly casting his eyes down away from Minho.
“Minho I never loved you like a brother.”
Minho felt his forehead wrinkle, he knew they hadn’t said it, they hadn’t talked about it, but it upset him to think that Taemin could ever doubt him anyway.
“Neither did I.”
He laced his fingers with Taemin’s. He wanted to squeeze them, to reassure him, but it would have only hurt.
“Was I bad?” Taemin didn’t sound frustrated, just curious.
“No Taemin. Nothing you did was wrong.”
“Does god know that? Does god know I did nothing wrong?”
Minho felt his eyes get wet, but he refused to let tears fall. He held Taemin’s hands in his lap. Taemin had always been strong. Confident. But now he was just a scared boy dying on a bed.
Minho’s voice broke as he asked,
“Get me sick.”
Taemin blinked just like when they were younger. It only made Minho feel more certain.
“Taemin, baby get me sick.”
“Minho no- I’m not that selfish.”
Minho felt anger at the rest of the world. He was upset it had tricked Taemin into thinking it had something for him without Taemin there. It didn’t matter though. He knew he could make Taemin understand.
“Baby please, get me sick.”
He unlocked their fingers and moved to cradle Taemin’s head in his lap.
He begged.
“Taemin, Taemin I want to get sick with you. I want to get sick from you.”
He nuzzled Taemin’s ear with his nose and licked at his face as he whispered over and over again,
“Taemin please, baby please, get me sick. I wanna be sick.”
Taemin finally nodded, just the tip of his chin moving as he let his eyes close. Minho kissed him, and Taemin couldn’t kiss back, but he let his mouth fall open, let Minho take pieces of him from deep inside.
Soft wet noises filled the afternoon air as Minho’s voice gently drifted in and out of Taemin’s ears,
“I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
Minho rocked Taemin back and forth as he threw up. He drew small circles with his thumb into the feverish skin. He soothed him when he couldn’t even cry anymore from so much pain. He felt proud at well he was able to take care of Taemin in those last hours. How he was able to say with an honest voice, “its okay. It’ll be okay.” How Taemin even repeated it back to him at first.
But then Taemin’s whole body began to quiver and this time it didn’t stop. He looked up at him as if he might cry, and all the acceptance he had worked so hard to build up left. All of the logical understanding, the letting go, was over.
Taemin blinked wildly in panic as if maybe that would make it all go away. Minho held him closer to hear his voice as he asked him,
“Minho kiss me again”
He kissed him. He kept kissing him as he cried, he kissed him as he stopped responding, he kissed him after his own stomach hurt and his lips were raw. He only stopped when he could no longer. He let his weight fall down on top of the boy he loved. The little dead boy he loved and he felt things inside of him twist and knot and erupt.
It didn’t feel heroic. He hadn’t expected it to. And he never wanted to suffer long. He didn’t think he deserved to. Unlike Taemin he was unconcerned how any god felt, he doubted they even cared. But he prayed he’d die soon anyway.
He crawled across the floor to a dresser, knocking things over and throwing them about in slow motion. He searched for something, anything to make it go faster. There were pills and whiskey in the back, hidden inside a hollowed book. He force fed himself as many as he could, choking on and spilling alcohol as he went. Finally he could feel not just his body ache, but his brain shut down.
He clawed his way back across the floor but he could no longer lift himself onto the bed. He tugged at the sheets as his sight flashed in and out. He knew he was delirious as the faceless children reappeared. He groaned, knowing he would lose conscious soon. He wasn’t sure how, because he knew he wasn’t strong enough, but Taemin’s body was dumped on the floor next to him in a tumble of linen. Minho sighed, comforted that their skin was touching again.
He arranged the sheets and limbs as best he could so that people would know how beautiful his boy had really been. The children nodded in approval as he wrapped himself loosely around the body and sang himself the song he used to sing Taemin when the nights were too cold to sleep alone.
No one else would see them again besides the men with with carts that came to take them away. Panic of the water struck the cities, and the doctors never came.
He felt a surge of happiness knowing he was finally going now. That he might get to see Taemin again. Maybe they’d be angels together. Taemin would be a beautiful shining fucked up angel. And why not?
They were just two little dead boys. They had done nothing wrong.
Inspired by this picture as well as this song. I don't know the artist of the picture because I just saw it on tumblr and no source was given but if anyone does please let me know.
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