[fic]
title: Letting Go
rating: PG
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Hankyung/Kibum
summary: Kibum doesn't want to do it anymore.
comments: I feel angsty, and zeehondpunk asked for it and gave me the prompts. Bad dialogue and slightly melo-dramatic.
You knew the moment he said, “Han, we need to talk,” that something wasn’t right.
Actually, that was a complete and utter lie. You’d known for a little while now that things weren’t right between you and Kibum, but you weren’t sure why. You’d spend hours, days, nights, wondering and wondering to yourself just what was going wrong, and still you couldn’t quite figure it out, not on your own. Everything was good on your end of things, you were possibly the happiest you’ve ever been with him. To you, nothing could beat the feeling of holding him close in your arms, breathing in the smell of his shampoo and feeling his hair brushing softly against your skin.
Nothing.
But apparently Kibum didn’t feel the same, not anymore. Because he wanted to talk, and everyone - everyone - knows that ‘we need to talk’ means bad bad news.
Nevertheless, you follow him into his bedroom where he carefully closes and locks the door behind you both, don’t want any interruptions, before turning to face you, an almost scarily solemn expression on his face.
And that is about the time your stomach drops, and you’re suddenly overcome with such a feeling of nausea. You know what’s coming - wasn’t it obvious? - but you still don’t want to hear it, still try to pretend he isn’t going to say those words.
“I’m not happy anymore, Hankyung.” And as soon as he starts you feel a wave of overwhelming dread consume you. He never called you Hankyung anymore; it was always, always Hannie. It sounded so … flat, so plain, hearing your full name fall from his lips like that.
“What?” You blink at him, feeling slow and stupid, like you did when you couldn’t speak Korean, and everything confused you.
He sighs, and it’s the kind of sigh that sounds like he’s trying to say ‘this is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you’. You’re not sure about that though, you’re really not.
“This thing, with Sungmin …”
Your face creases into a slight frown, you’re clearly confused. “What thing? There’s no ‘thing’ with Sungmin.” Where on Earth would Kibum get an idea like that from? You love Kibum, you’re madly, crazy, in love with Kim Kibum, and that has nothing at all to do with Sungmin.
But Kibum’s shaking his head at you, and he still looks oh-so-serious. You know he’s an actor, and you know he’s good at it, and you wish that you could hope he was only acting, only playing some kind of cruel joke on you, but you know inside that he isn’t.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed it, I’m not stupid, you know.”
Maybe you’re the stupid one, you think, because you really don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Noticed what? I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maybe he believes you, or maybe he just wants to point out everything that’s wrong. “He keeps hitting on you, flirting with you, and you’re just letting him.”
All you do is stare at him, so he seems to take that as a cue to continue. “Haven’t you noticed? He touches you, he flirts with you, he’s constantly around you, he always asks you for hugs and kisses, you must have noticed by now.”
Well … when he puts it like that, it does kind of add up, and it does kind of make sense. “But, he’s Sungmin,” you try to explain, the confused frown still creasing your face as you look at him, “I thought he was just being, you know, friendly, normal.”
Kibum gives you such a look and you feel almost like he’s reprimanded you for being a fool. “No, Han, no. That is not just friendly.”
You take a moment to let this sink in, to think about it, before you speak again. “So, you’re jealous? Sungmin liking me makes you jealous?” Of course it does, if the roles were reversed, you would be jealous too, but you’re just trying to clarify things, you have to understand.
“Of course I am!” And now Kibum’s serious, calm appearance crumbles a little under his emotions. He’s usually so good at controlling how he feels, the emotions he’ll let show on his face, in his voice, but you know him now, you know him so well, and you can tell when he’s upset, when he’s losing a little of his restraint, when his shining smile of a mask slips and reveals the real emotions.
“Of course I’m jealous, he’s almost shamelessly flirting with you, and you’re just going along with it! You don’t even push him away, or tell him to back off, or anything! You just let him do it.”
You blink some more, because you really weren’t expecting this to be the reason for ‘the talk’. “I didn’t realise,” you tell him softly, “I thought he was just being friendly. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
He looks at you, and you’ve never ever seen that expression on his face aimed at you before, but he looks absolutely disgusted with you, you can feel it rolling over you in waves, and it makes you feel small and stupid and dirty.
“His feelings? What about my feelings, huh?”
He doesn’t need to say anymore than that, he really doesn’t, and he knows it. He knows, just by the look on your face and the tension in your body and the way your Adam’s apple bobs unsteadily in your throat just how his words have affected you, that you feel almost like he’s just gone and punched you in the face, or the stomach, or anywhere, and it hurts, it hurts.
“Kibum …” you say, and your voice shakes a little with the emotion you’re feeling, cracks, just like the expression on your face, breaks, like you know you’re probably going to do soon. “I didn’t know … I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head at you, he doesn’t look impressed, and you don’t know what else you’re supposed to say. You might mean it, but ‘sorry’ only works so many times, and you know repeating it will just make it meaningless to Kibum.
Most of the rest of the conversation is lost to you, only a few words and phrases actually getting through to you, Kibum saying things like, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ and ‘you’re too nice for your own good,’ and ‘I think we need to finish this.’
But other than that, it’s all lost to you; you may as well not speak Korean, because you honestly don’t remember much more of it than that, although at least you remember the important things he said, right?
You don’t remember all of his words, but you definitely remember his facial expressions, each and every one of them, clearly imprinted in your mind, like a series of heartbreaking photographs. You know it’s not going to be anytime soon that you’ll forget the pain in his eyes, the sad twist to his mouth, the anger and hurt on his face.
He must really be upset to let any of these emotions show on his face, even in front of you, and it actually scares you, just a little, because Kibum is always good at controlling his emotions, his expressions, he’s always so in control, and to see him losing that control is a little scary.
It’s only a little though, he’s not crying, or shouting, or shaking and trembling, it’s just the look in his eyes and the slight tremble to his voice, the very subtle shake to his shoulders, that let you know just how upset he is. But that’s Kibum, that’s the way he is, and seeing - knowing - all of these little signs makes you feel even worse than if he was shouting and crying and lashing out at you.
“We need to stop seeing each other.”
You definitely hear that, that one definitely sinks in and makes itself known, there’s no denying it and Kibum looks at you so seriously, so gravely, and yet you’re sure his eyes look a little watery around the edges, you know he’s not going to cry though, not in front of you.
You open your mouth, you want to say something, anything, because you don’t want this, you don’t want it at all, and you think it’s a mistake, because you love him, you love Kibum so damn much, and it makes you ache inside just to think of not being able to call him yours anymore. You love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and he knows this, or at least … you thought he had, but you start to realise that maybe he doesn’t, maybe he really doesn’t know just how much you love him.
You want to tell him, your lips form the words and your mouth moves, but your voice gets stuck, trapped, caught in your throat, and it locks up, you just can’t speak, so you look at him, you look at him and hope he can see the words in your face. But he’s not really looking, his eyes look even more watery now, and he’s probably not seeing anything clearly anymore.
You swallow, hard, twice, and clear your throat. “Kibum,” you manage to get out, and that’s something, that’s a start. “Kibum, don’t … I love you.”
You sound hushed, choked, your voice unsteady and unreliable, but it came out, you know it came out, and you know he heard you. But the look on his face doesn’t change, and now he even looks just a little sympathetic, and you know without him even needing to say anything that it isn’t enough, that it just isn’t enough, and he doesn’t quite believe you.
And that’s when you know it’s useless, vain, futile, to try and convince him otherwise, he doesn’t believe you, or he doesn’t want to believe you, or it just isn’t enough for him anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and this time when he says it, he actually sounds like he means it, but you’re not sure if he’s saying it to you, or to himself. You’re not sure it matters, either.
And you’re sorry too, so sorry, sorry for being an idiot, sorry for not noticing things, sorry for not paying more attention to Kibum like you should have, like he deserved, sorry for messing things up and bringing them to this point. And most of all, you’re sorry for not realising sooner, for not fixing things when you had the chance.
“Sorry,” he says again, and this time, there’s this finality to Kibum’s tone, and you know that’s the end of it, there’s no more room for discussion. He’s told you already he isn’t happy with the way things were, that he just doesn’t want to deal with it anymore. And now, he really does look just as hurt as you feel to be doing this, doing this to the both of you. It’s only a small consolation though, to know this hurts him too.
You think you deserve it, though, deserve to feel hurt, because apparently you’ve been hurting him for a little while now, with your obliviousness, your niceness, your unwillingness to hurt a friend. You’ve hurt him, so it’s his turn to hurt you, and in a terrible way, it’s all fair.
He’s looking at you now, and his face looks strangely blank, bare, temporarily free of emotion. This, more than anything, leaves you feeling the worst, hurts you the most. Where has your smiling, loving, Kibum gone?
“I’d like to be alone now,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound angry, or upset, or even bitter, he just sounds … blank.
You nod at him; you know exactly what he’s going to do as soon as you leave and he closes and locks the door behind you, you can even picture it in your mind, how he’ll sit on his bed, pull his knees up to his chest and hold himself, head lowered as he tries not to cry but just can’t hold it back.
You know him, and you know that’s just what he’s going to do once he’s alone, but he won’t cry now, not in front of you, not where you can see him drop his guard and let go of his emotions.
You nod at him again, you want to say something, anything, but there’s nothing left to say, you’ve said it all, or he’s said it all, and it’s not like there are anymore words you can pull out now that will have any kind of effect. That’s it, the end of it, over, so why waste words?
You turn away from him, and slowly, you leave the room. You’re not quite sure how you feel, really, about all of this, not yet, anyway, it hasn’t quite hit you yet. But you know as soon as you get into your own room, it’ll hit you like a ton of bricks, and it’ll be your turn to cry.
The soft click of the door locking seems to echo through your mind, sounding louder and louder each time, and it’s with that noise you’ll forever associate the end of your relationship with Kibum.
You don’t know it, how could you possibly know it, but as soon as Kibum locks the door behind you, crawls onto his bed and sits just like you’d imagined him to, he pulls a sweater out from underneath his pillows, one of yours that you’d left in there one night, and he holds it to his face, taking in slow, deep breaths. The sweater still smells of you, and he takes comfort in the familiar scent as he let’s go.
- end -
rating: PG
fandom: Super Junior
pairing: Hankyung/Kibum
summary: Kibum doesn't want to do it anymore.
comments: I feel angsty, and zeehondpunk asked for it and gave me the prompts. Bad dialogue and slightly melo-dramatic.
You knew the moment he said, “Han, we need to talk,” that something wasn’t right.
Actually, that was a complete and utter lie. You’d known for a little while now that things weren’t right between you and Kibum, but you weren’t sure why. You’d spend hours, days, nights, wondering and wondering to yourself just what was going wrong, and still you couldn’t quite figure it out, not on your own. Everything was good on your end of things, you were possibly the happiest you’ve ever been with him. To you, nothing could beat the feeling of holding him close in your arms, breathing in the smell of his shampoo and feeling his hair brushing softly against your skin.
Nothing.
But apparently Kibum didn’t feel the same, not anymore. Because he wanted to talk, and everyone - everyone - knows that ‘we need to talk’ means bad bad news.
Nevertheless, you follow him into his bedroom where he carefully closes and locks the door behind you both, don’t want any interruptions, before turning to face you, an almost scarily solemn expression on his face.
And that is about the time your stomach drops, and you’re suddenly overcome with such a feeling of nausea. You know what’s coming - wasn’t it obvious? - but you still don’t want to hear it, still try to pretend he isn’t going to say those words.
“I’m not happy anymore, Hankyung.” And as soon as he starts you feel a wave of overwhelming dread consume you. He never called you Hankyung anymore; it was always, always Hannie. It sounded so … flat, so plain, hearing your full name fall from his lips like that.
“What?” You blink at him, feeling slow and stupid, like you did when you couldn’t speak Korean, and everything confused you.
He sighs, and it’s the kind of sigh that sounds like he’s trying to say ‘this is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you’. You’re not sure about that though, you’re really not.
“This thing, with Sungmin …”
Your face creases into a slight frown, you’re clearly confused. “What thing? There’s no ‘thing’ with Sungmin.” Where on Earth would Kibum get an idea like that from? You love Kibum, you’re madly, crazy, in love with Kim Kibum, and that has nothing at all to do with Sungmin.
But Kibum’s shaking his head at you, and he still looks oh-so-serious. You know he’s an actor, and you know he’s good at it, and you wish that you could hope he was only acting, only playing some kind of cruel joke on you, but you know inside that he isn’t.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed it, I’m not stupid, you know.”
Maybe you’re the stupid one, you think, because you really don’t know what he’s talking about.
“Noticed what? I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maybe he believes you, or maybe he just wants to point out everything that’s wrong. “He keeps hitting on you, flirting with you, and you’re just letting him.”
All you do is stare at him, so he seems to take that as a cue to continue. “Haven’t you noticed? He touches you, he flirts with you, he’s constantly around you, he always asks you for hugs and kisses, you must have noticed by now.”
Well … when he puts it like that, it does kind of add up, and it does kind of make sense. “But, he’s Sungmin,” you try to explain, the confused frown still creasing your face as you look at him, “I thought he was just being, you know, friendly, normal.”
Kibum gives you such a look and you feel almost like he’s reprimanded you for being a fool. “No, Han, no. That is not just friendly.”
You take a moment to let this sink in, to think about it, before you speak again. “So, you’re jealous? Sungmin liking me makes you jealous?” Of course it does, if the roles were reversed, you would be jealous too, but you’re just trying to clarify things, you have to understand.
“Of course I am!” And now Kibum’s serious, calm appearance crumbles a little under his emotions. He’s usually so good at controlling how he feels, the emotions he’ll let show on his face, in his voice, but you know him now, you know him so well, and you can tell when he’s upset, when he’s losing a little of his restraint, when his shining smile of a mask slips and reveals the real emotions.
“Of course I’m jealous, he’s almost shamelessly flirting with you, and you’re just going along with it! You don’t even push him away, or tell him to back off, or anything! You just let him do it.”
You blink some more, because you really weren’t expecting this to be the reason for ‘the talk’. “I didn’t realise,” you tell him softly, “I thought he was just being friendly. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
He looks at you, and you’ve never ever seen that expression on his face aimed at you before, but he looks absolutely disgusted with you, you can feel it rolling over you in waves, and it makes you feel small and stupid and dirty.
“His feelings? What about my feelings, huh?”
He doesn’t need to say anymore than that, he really doesn’t, and he knows it. He knows, just by the look on your face and the tension in your body and the way your Adam’s apple bobs unsteadily in your throat just how his words have affected you, that you feel almost like he’s just gone and punched you in the face, or the stomach, or anywhere, and it hurts, it hurts.
“Kibum …” you say, and your voice shakes a little with the emotion you’re feeling, cracks, just like the expression on your face, breaks, like you know you’re probably going to do soon. “I didn’t know … I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head at you, he doesn’t look impressed, and you don’t know what else you’re supposed to say. You might mean it, but ‘sorry’ only works so many times, and you know repeating it will just make it meaningless to Kibum.
Most of the rest of the conversation is lost to you, only a few words and phrases actually getting through to you, Kibum saying things like, ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ and ‘you’re too nice for your own good,’ and ‘I think we need to finish this.’
But other than that, it’s all lost to you; you may as well not speak Korean, because you honestly don’t remember much more of it than that, although at least you remember the important things he said, right?
You don’t remember all of his words, but you definitely remember his facial expressions, each and every one of them, clearly imprinted in your mind, like a series of heartbreaking photographs. You know it’s not going to be anytime soon that you’ll forget the pain in his eyes, the sad twist to his mouth, the anger and hurt on his face.
He must really be upset to let any of these emotions show on his face, even in front of you, and it actually scares you, just a little, because Kibum is always good at controlling his emotions, his expressions, he’s always so in control, and to see him losing that control is a little scary.
It’s only a little though, he’s not crying, or shouting, or shaking and trembling, it’s just the look in his eyes and the slight tremble to his voice, the very subtle shake to his shoulders, that let you know just how upset he is. But that’s Kibum, that’s the way he is, and seeing - knowing - all of these little signs makes you feel even worse than if he was shouting and crying and lashing out at you.
“We need to stop seeing each other.”
You definitely hear that, that one definitely sinks in and makes itself known, there’s no denying it and Kibum looks at you so seriously, so gravely, and yet you’re sure his eyes look a little watery around the edges, you know he’s not going to cry though, not in front of you.
You open your mouth, you want to say something, anything, because you don’t want this, you don’t want it at all, and you think it’s a mistake, because you love him, you love Kibum so damn much, and it makes you ache inside just to think of not being able to call him yours anymore. You love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and he knows this, or at least … you thought he had, but you start to realise that maybe he doesn’t, maybe he really doesn’t know just how much you love him.
You want to tell him, your lips form the words and your mouth moves, but your voice gets stuck, trapped, caught in your throat, and it locks up, you just can’t speak, so you look at him, you look at him and hope he can see the words in your face. But he’s not really looking, his eyes look even more watery now, and he’s probably not seeing anything clearly anymore.
You swallow, hard, twice, and clear your throat. “Kibum,” you manage to get out, and that’s something, that’s a start. “Kibum, don’t … I love you.”
You sound hushed, choked, your voice unsteady and unreliable, but it came out, you know it came out, and you know he heard you. But the look on his face doesn’t change, and now he even looks just a little sympathetic, and you know without him even needing to say anything that it isn’t enough, that it just isn’t enough, and he doesn’t quite believe you.
And that’s when you know it’s useless, vain, futile, to try and convince him otherwise, he doesn’t believe you, or he doesn’t want to believe you, or it just isn’t enough for him anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and this time when he says it, he actually sounds like he means it, but you’re not sure if he’s saying it to you, or to himself. You’re not sure it matters, either.
And you’re sorry too, so sorry, sorry for being an idiot, sorry for not noticing things, sorry for not paying more attention to Kibum like you should have, like he deserved, sorry for messing things up and bringing them to this point. And most of all, you’re sorry for not realising sooner, for not fixing things when you had the chance.
“Sorry,” he says again, and this time, there’s this finality to Kibum’s tone, and you know that’s the end of it, there’s no more room for discussion. He’s told you already he isn’t happy with the way things were, that he just doesn’t want to deal with it anymore. And now, he really does look just as hurt as you feel to be doing this, doing this to the both of you. It’s only a small consolation though, to know this hurts him too.
You think you deserve it, though, deserve to feel hurt, because apparently you’ve been hurting him for a little while now, with your obliviousness, your niceness, your unwillingness to hurt a friend. You’ve hurt him, so it’s his turn to hurt you, and in a terrible way, it’s all fair.
He’s looking at you now, and his face looks strangely blank, bare, temporarily free of emotion. This, more than anything, leaves you feeling the worst, hurts you the most. Where has your smiling, loving, Kibum gone?
“I’d like to be alone now,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound angry, or upset, or even bitter, he just sounds … blank.
You nod at him; you know exactly what he’s going to do as soon as you leave and he closes and locks the door behind you, you can even picture it in your mind, how he’ll sit on his bed, pull his knees up to his chest and hold himself, head lowered as he tries not to cry but just can’t hold it back.
You know him, and you know that’s just what he’s going to do once he’s alone, but he won’t cry now, not in front of you, not where you can see him drop his guard and let go of his emotions.
You nod at him again, you want to say something, anything, but there’s nothing left to say, you’ve said it all, or he’s said it all, and it’s not like there are anymore words you can pull out now that will have any kind of effect. That’s it, the end of it, over, so why waste words?
You turn away from him, and slowly, you leave the room. You’re not quite sure how you feel, really, about all of this, not yet, anyway, it hasn’t quite hit you yet. But you know as soon as you get into your own room, it’ll hit you like a ton of bricks, and it’ll be your turn to cry.
The soft click of the door locking seems to echo through your mind, sounding louder and louder each time, and it’s with that noise you’ll forever associate the end of your relationship with Kibum.
You don’t know it, how could you possibly know it, but as soon as Kibum locks the door behind you, crawls onto his bed and sits just like you’d imagined him to, he pulls a sweater out from underneath his pillows, one of yours that you’d left in there one night, and he holds it to his face, taking in slow, deep breaths. The sweater still smells of you, and he takes comfort in the familiar scent as he let’s go.
- end -