Enough to Break
Title: Enough to Break
Rating: G
Pairing: HanChul
Summary: He wishes.... so much that he can go back in time and change everything. Even though he knows, if he actually could, he wouldn't. If someone gave him the chance, he wouldn't take the risk, because there would be something missing. His life wouldn't feel complete.
A/N: Sorry for writing this saddish? fic.
Its dark outside and quiet inside. There is a stream of light coming in through the window, giving the dull room some light. There is a creaking sound that slices through the silence like a knife as someone shifts on the bed. There's another creak and then another, and another, and another. A sigh follows suit. "Damn." The person responsible sits up and rubs at his face as his sheets pool around his waist and legs. Through the darkness it is hard to tell but there is tears streaming down his face and he tries wiping them away with his fingers, hoping to get rid of them even though they're continuously falling. He moves his hands from his face so he can smooth out his wife beater, because he doesn't know what else to do. There's a whimper and he hurriedly brings his hands to his face to cover it because he knows he's going to start crying harder. His shoulders shake, his lips tremble and part to gasp at air silently, almost as if he can't breath, like there's a noose around his neck, and he bites his lips as tears stream down his face, being blocked by fingers. "Damn, damn. Damn," he mutters to himself as he wipes at countless tears again.
Why does he have to stay up another night, crying as he covers his face in shame? Another night of swollen eyes, feeling his restraint bend and his resolve crumble as he struggles to free his mind from his thoughts. He inhales quick and sharp, then exhales just as fast. It comes out shaky and choppy as he once again tries to breathe normally. He places his hands in his lap and fiddles with his thumbs, letting large tears fall onto his wrist. He lets his eyes drift down to the water spots and he stares blankly at them. Drop. Drop. Drop. He decides it is enough and wipes all the saltiness away from his face as he flings his legs out from underneath the sheets and stands, strong and tall with determination. About what? He's not sure. He just wants all the pain to go away. He wants these seemingly endless nights filled with sobs to dissolve into nothing. He wishes he could go back in the past and tell himself to stop crying.
No.
.
He wishes he can go back to before any of this has ever happened;the lawsuit and leaving. Before he ever even thought about leaving that life behind for a new one where he can try to stand on his own two feet and become successful where he considers home. Where he considered home. A home isn't a home unless you feel safe, warm and loved: homey. Why can't he go back in time? Scientist should hurry and make a time machine so he can erase it all. He wants to leave this life behind and go back to his old one. He wants to be overworked again, to be tired and stressed, because he knows at the end of the day, when he returns to the apartment, a certain someone will sneak into his bed, get under the sheets and smile with beautiful sparkling eyes, and make the day seem good. He wants to see that milky white skin and he wants to feel that silky soft hair. He wants to breathe in that sweet, yet masculine smell. Most of all he wants to feel that comforting warmth, and he wants to hear that sweet, soft, delicate voice reserved only for him.
No.
He wishes he can go back to before any of this ever happened. He wants to go back to the time when he was nothing but an innocent young man hoping to become something in a new place. He wants to go back and tell himself to get out. Go to a new company or don't even go to Korea at all, that way he couldn't even have a chance at meeting the person responsible for his tears. Get out. Leave. Leave, because in the end, you'll just feel heartache and experience tears from a type of pain you never want to feel. He wants to tell himself everything that would happen so he wont go through any of it. So he could find a woman and settle down with her-just like he's planned ever since he was twelve and had his first crush. He wishes.... so much that he can go back in time and change everything. Even though he knows, if he actually could, he wouldn't. If someone gave him the chance, he wouldn't take the risk, because there would be something missing. His life wouldn't feel complete. He would be missing out on meeting someone so fun, making a great best friend, experiencing such an intense love, feeling immense passion. He wouldn't know hardships and the feeling someone can have where they would give up everything for someone else.
He doesn't know when he made it to his bathroom but he doesn't care. He looks in the mirror and wants to look away when he sees red and swollen eyes, but he can't bring himself to, and instead he looks at the tears that continue to fall like a leaky faucet that wont stop, and he doesn't pity himself, because he is the reason why he's crying. He is the one who made all of this happen. He not only caused himself tears, but he caused the one he loves to cry. He doesn't like saying that because he never believed someone would be sad because he isn't there. He never believed someone would miss him if he was gone. He hates himself that the person who did cry over him leaving was the person he cared for most. He hates himself for making that beautiful face cry in front of millions and hide behind a locked door, not coming out for anyone. Why did he have to make this decision and leave everything behind?
He focuses on his tear-stained face and a flash of the stage where that person cried came through his mind. He remembers the first time that person cried in front of him. It was over something silly and menial, and he can't quite remember exactly what it was, but he remembers at that time, it meant everything to them. He remembers as soon as the other's tears fell, his eyes started to sting and his own tears followed suit. They were yelling in hushed voices and his mouth was filled with a salty taste, but it didn't matter to him, because he just wanted everything to be all right and he wanted everything to be normal.
He turns a knob on the sink and cups the water in his hand, splashing it onto his face, trying to wash away all his regrets. He mutters a quick "idiot, it is all your fault," and lets himself be cosumed by the cold that fills the room. He feels alone, and he can't think he deserves it anymore than he already does, because he does deserve this. It is all his fault. He caused so many to be sad, and it is because he was selfish and wanted out. He turns the water off and takes one last glance at his reflection, feeling the need to hit the mirror, just so, in some way, he could hurt himself. He deserves it. He walks out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom, reading the clock on his way to his bed. Thirty minutes past midnight. He sits on his bed and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms.
There's a ringing from his cell phone and he pays no mind to it, because, really, who would be calling this late? It finally ends and he sighs and throws his body back on the bed, being extra rough. The room is silent and he is still crying but no tears are coming out, and instead his face is scrunched and his shoulders are shaking. He's close to hiccuping and he has the feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach telling him he needs to empty it even though it already feels empty, but he clutches his stomach instead, trying to will it all to stay down. "Why did I have to ruin everything?" A silence follows and he wants an answer. The reply he gets is the loud ringing of his apartment's phone. He sighs and stands to walk to the other side of his bed, picking up the phone without paying attention to the caller ID.
"Hello," he says in a questioning tone, hoping who ever it is doesn't hear how his voice cracked. He decides he is stupid for crying about something he can't change, and waits for an answer. It is silent and he's about to hang up, but suddenly there is an intake of breath. "Are you crying too?" He knows that voice, and it pains him to hear it laced with sobs. He feels his grip loosen and he tightens it quickly because this is the closest he can get now and he doesn't want to let his chance slip away. He opens his mouth and no words come out, no matter how much he tries to push it up. "Did you hang up?" His eyes widened and suddenly tears fall again, almost as if his body is allowing more water to come out again. "No! No! I... no." He wants to say he would never hang up, though he doesn't because he feels he's not allowed. "Good. I'm crying and need comfort," there's a laugh that follows and he knows it is forced, but he needs to stay strong and he knows he can, so he will.
"I'm here for you." "I miss you, Hangeng!" His name was bellowed and a whimper was put at the end. He feels his restraint bending and his resolve crumbling for the second time that night. "I miss you too, Heechul." The sobs that follow is enough to break him.
Rating: G
Pairing: HanChul
Summary: He wishes.... so much that he can go back in time and change everything. Even though he knows, if he actually could, he wouldn't. If someone gave him the chance, he wouldn't take the risk, because there would be something missing. His life wouldn't feel complete.
A/N: Sorry for writing this saddish? fic.
Its dark outside and quiet inside. There is a stream of light coming in through the window, giving the dull room some light. There is a creaking sound that slices through the silence like a knife as someone shifts on the bed. There's another creak and then another, and another, and another. A sigh follows suit. "Damn." The person responsible sits up and rubs at his face as his sheets pool around his waist and legs. Through the darkness it is hard to tell but there is tears streaming down his face and he tries wiping them away with his fingers, hoping to get rid of them even though they're continuously falling. He moves his hands from his face so he can smooth out his wife beater, because he doesn't know what else to do. There's a whimper and he hurriedly brings his hands to his face to cover it because he knows he's going to start crying harder. His shoulders shake, his lips tremble and part to gasp at air silently, almost as if he can't breath, like there's a noose around his neck, and he bites his lips as tears stream down his face, being blocked by fingers. "Damn, damn. Damn," he mutters to himself as he wipes at countless tears again.
Why does he have to stay up another night, crying as he covers his face in shame? Another night of swollen eyes, feeling his restraint bend and his resolve crumble as he struggles to free his mind from his thoughts. He inhales quick and sharp, then exhales just as fast. It comes out shaky and choppy as he once again tries to breathe normally. He places his hands in his lap and fiddles with his thumbs, letting large tears fall onto his wrist. He lets his eyes drift down to the water spots and he stares blankly at them. Drop. Drop. Drop. He decides it is enough and wipes all the saltiness away from his face as he flings his legs out from underneath the sheets and stands, strong and tall with determination. About what? He's not sure. He just wants all the pain to go away. He wants these seemingly endless nights filled with sobs to dissolve into nothing. He wishes he could go back in the past and tell himself to stop crying.
No.
.
He wishes he can go back to before any of this has ever happened;the lawsuit and leaving. Before he ever even thought about leaving that life behind for a new one where he can try to stand on his own two feet and become successful where he considers home. Where he considered home. A home isn't a home unless you feel safe, warm and loved: homey. Why can't he go back in time? Scientist should hurry and make a time machine so he can erase it all. He wants to leave this life behind and go back to his old one. He wants to be overworked again, to be tired and stressed, because he knows at the end of the day, when he returns to the apartment, a certain someone will sneak into his bed, get under the sheets and smile with beautiful sparkling eyes, and make the day seem good. He wants to see that milky white skin and he wants to feel that silky soft hair. He wants to breathe in that sweet, yet masculine smell. Most of all he wants to feel that comforting warmth, and he wants to hear that sweet, soft, delicate voice reserved only for him.
No.
He wishes he can go back to before any of this ever happened. He wants to go back to the time when he was nothing but an innocent young man hoping to become something in a new place. He wants to go back and tell himself to get out. Go to a new company or don't even go to Korea at all, that way he couldn't even have a chance at meeting the person responsible for his tears. Get out. Leave. Leave, because in the end, you'll just feel heartache and experience tears from a type of pain you never want to feel. He wants to tell himself everything that would happen so he wont go through any of it. So he could find a woman and settle down with her-just like he's planned ever since he was twelve and had his first crush. He wishes.... so much that he can go back in time and change everything. Even though he knows, if he actually could, he wouldn't. If someone gave him the chance, he wouldn't take the risk, because there would be something missing. His life wouldn't feel complete. He would be missing out on meeting someone so fun, making a great best friend, experiencing such an intense love, feeling immense passion. He wouldn't know hardships and the feeling someone can have where they would give up everything for someone else.
He doesn't know when he made it to his bathroom but he doesn't care. He looks in the mirror and wants to look away when he sees red and swollen eyes, but he can't bring himself to, and instead he looks at the tears that continue to fall like a leaky faucet that wont stop, and he doesn't pity himself, because he is the reason why he's crying. He is the one who made all of this happen. He not only caused himself tears, but he caused the one he loves to cry. He doesn't like saying that because he never believed someone would be sad because he isn't there. He never believed someone would miss him if he was gone. He hates himself that the person who did cry over him leaving was the person he cared for most. He hates himself for making that beautiful face cry in front of millions and hide behind a locked door, not coming out for anyone. Why did he have to make this decision and leave everything behind?
He focuses on his tear-stained face and a flash of the stage where that person cried came through his mind. He remembers the first time that person cried in front of him. It was over something silly and menial, and he can't quite remember exactly what it was, but he remembers at that time, it meant everything to them. He remembers as soon as the other's tears fell, his eyes started to sting and his own tears followed suit. They were yelling in hushed voices and his mouth was filled with a salty taste, but it didn't matter to him, because he just wanted everything to be all right and he wanted everything to be normal.
He turns a knob on the sink and cups the water in his hand, splashing it onto his face, trying to wash away all his regrets. He mutters a quick "idiot, it is all your fault," and lets himself be cosumed by the cold that fills the room. He feels alone, and he can't think he deserves it anymore than he already does, because he does deserve this. It is all his fault. He caused so many to be sad, and it is because he was selfish and wanted out. He turns the water off and takes one last glance at his reflection, feeling the need to hit the mirror, just so, in some way, he could hurt himself. He deserves it. He walks out of the bathroom and back into his bedroom, reading the clock on his way to his bed. Thirty minutes past midnight. He sits on his bed and rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his palms.
There's a ringing from his cell phone and he pays no mind to it, because, really, who would be calling this late? It finally ends and he sighs and throws his body back on the bed, being extra rough. The room is silent and he is still crying but no tears are coming out, and instead his face is scrunched and his shoulders are shaking. He's close to hiccuping and he has the feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach telling him he needs to empty it even though it already feels empty, but he clutches his stomach instead, trying to will it all to stay down. "Why did I have to ruin everything?" A silence follows and he wants an answer. The reply he gets is the loud ringing of his apartment's phone. He sighs and stands to walk to the other side of his bed, picking up the phone without paying attention to the caller ID.
"Hello," he says in a questioning tone, hoping who ever it is doesn't hear how his voice cracked. He decides he is stupid for crying about something he can't change, and waits for an answer. It is silent and he's about to hang up, but suddenly there is an intake of breath. "Are you crying too?" He knows that voice, and it pains him to hear it laced with sobs. He feels his grip loosen and he tightens it quickly because this is the closest he can get now and he doesn't want to let his chance slip away. He opens his mouth and no words come out, no matter how much he tries to push it up. "Did you hang up?" His eyes widened and suddenly tears fall again, almost as if his body is allowing more water to come out again. "No! No! I... no." He wants to say he would never hang up, though he doesn't because he feels he's not allowed. "Good. I'm crying and need comfort," there's a laugh that follows and he knows it is forced, but he needs to stay strong and he knows he can, so he will.
"I'm here for you." "I miss you, Hangeng!" His name was bellowed and a whimper was put at the end. He feels his restraint bending and his resolve crumbling for the second time that night. "I miss you too, Heechul." The sobs that follow is enough to break him.