(no subject)
Gothic romances are pointless | A wedding and old friends and changes in life. There is not novelty in these situations. | 978 words | a/n: I really can’t say why I wrote this. I just had a whimsical moment and here we are. Lightly edited so probably riddled with mistakes.
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Kibum knows this is stupid stupid stupid. His heels click soundly, pointedly, on the wood paneling of the dance floor as he crosses it onto the carpet and, really, he knows this is a bad idea.
He goes to the ceremony and sits in the back and off to the left, watches Jonghyun’s bride get walked down the aisle and sees how Jonghyun swells with pride when her father hands her off to him. He scoffs quietly to himself, but dabs his powder-baby-blue handkerchief to the corner of his eye nonetheless.
He veers very deliberately away from Jonghyun when he sees Minho, taller than ever and suave and handsome in his black suit, talking to him. If anyone can make this awkward, it’s Minho. If anyone can recognize him before he wants to be recognized, it’s Minho. He instead goes for the food table. A slice of cake won’t lift the heaviness of reluctance in his limbs, but it’ll distract him long enough for him to think it has gone away.
Kibum pulls on his hat, melodramatic with a white half veil draping just past his nose, and he stares resolutely in the mirror. He can do this. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this.
He was wrong, actually: it’s Onew who can - and does - make this awkward. Kibum should have known.
“K-kibum!” Onew stutters, voice unsure and then wavering into shocked certainty. “I! You! You’re here!”
Kibum sets his plate down carefully, “Yes, yes I am.”
Onew is waving Taemin over before Kibum has a chance to think. He introduces the two of them awkwardly with, “Taemin, it’s Kibum! Our Kibum, I mean, I don’t believe it!”
Taemin blinks, frowns, looks long and hard at Kibum. “…Hyung.” He says, tone reprimanding like he has the right to do that and Kibum should hit him in the head or say something sarcastic, something sly, something cunning and brilliant. He can’t find the confidence in himself at this very moment.
Kibum’s heart sinks at the expression on Taemin’s face, because it’s Taemin and Taemin should be able to understand, should not ever judge him and when did they all grow up into adults?
“I’m getting married and I know you’ve like, disowned me for reasons unknown, but I’ve gone through all this trouble to track your home phone number down, so think about coming - please.” Is the message Jonghyun leaves on his answering machine and Kibum can’t say no to that. Who could, really?
Jonghyun’s parents see him and recognize just enough of him to realize who he is. “Kibum,” Jonghyun’s mom tries for enthusiasm but that is lost a little in her obvious surprise, “Oh, how nice of you to come, Jonghyun will be pleased.”
Kibum can see the aunts and cousins already beginning to whisper to each other from where they stand behind Jonghyun’s mom. He puts them out of his mind, there are more important things to take care of, he reminds himself. “Yeah, Jjong left me a message and I figured it was the least I could do.”
Jonghyun’s dad smiles, a smile stretched and anxious and fake, and Kibum can see the contempt forming in his eyes.
“Maybe,” Jonghyun’s dad murmurs, attempting to be consoling, a little enticing even, but it’s really just the padding around the sharp edges of the attack bundled up and on its way, “Maybe you shouldn’t see him? Maybe not tonight.”
Maybe not ever, Kibum hears in the undertones. Fine, he can respect that.
“Are you sure this is what you wanted?” His mother asks, “I know you saved the money and did what you wanted and it’s too late to change it now, but are you sure it’s what you wanted to do with your life?”
Kibum finishes his fruit juice determinedly, pulls absentmindedly at the bunched up bandages peeking out from under his shirt and tells her, “Yes. I’m sure.”
Jonghyun hears from Minho, hears from Taemin, hears from Onew and his mom and his dad and all his extended family, that Kibum is here. He finds Kibum getting ready to leave, sitting on the steps outside of the reception building, thinking, reminiscing.
“So.” Jonghyun says, a little incoherent and at a loss for words.
“So.” Kibum counters, even, calm. “I came.”
“I…see. I didn’t. I didn’t know, I didn’t know you’d.” He pauses and gestures vaguely at all of Kibum. “You know, changed.”
Kibum licks his lips. “Oh. Yeah, I did.”
They sit in silence and Kibum tugs at his skirt before standing up with purpose. “It’s been fun,” he sighs, “But I have stuff to do and your family hates me and all that, so I should be going.”
“Ah.” Jonghyun says and he looks at Kibum curiously. “You’re…so different. Happy, I’m hoping?
Kibum could laugh at Jonghyun’s awe, but smiles ruefully instead. “Yeah.” He tugs at his skirt again and click-clacks his way down the remainder of the stairs. “I know it’s weird,” he admits slowly, and there’s painfully raw honesty in his tone, “I really do know, but then it really is more my style.”
Jonghyun hums thoughtfully at that and has no choice but to wave goodbye. He does so in good nature though, and Kibum thinks at this moment that closure is stupid, because the methods you use don’t always bring it around.
That wasn’t closure, he thinks suddenly, that was deep aching in his soul, a little bit of shame he promised himself he’d never feel for choosing this lifestyle. But he, strangely enough, doesn’t regret coming to the wedding. Is that closure, maybe?
He meets with the doctor and lies on the cold metal table for them to poke and prod and draw approximations on his skin and he takes a deep breath when they say they’re ready to start.
No turning back now.
---
Kibum knows this is stupid stupid stupid. His heels click soundly, pointedly, on the wood paneling of the dance floor as he crosses it onto the carpet and, really, he knows this is a bad idea.
He goes to the ceremony and sits in the back and off to the left, watches Jonghyun’s bride get walked down the aisle and sees how Jonghyun swells with pride when her father hands her off to him. He scoffs quietly to himself, but dabs his powder-baby-blue handkerchief to the corner of his eye nonetheless.
He veers very deliberately away from Jonghyun when he sees Minho, taller than ever and suave and handsome in his black suit, talking to him. If anyone can make this awkward, it’s Minho. If anyone can recognize him before he wants to be recognized, it’s Minho. He instead goes for the food table. A slice of cake won’t lift the heaviness of reluctance in his limbs, but it’ll distract him long enough for him to think it has gone away.
Kibum pulls on his hat, melodramatic with a white half veil draping just past his nose, and he stares resolutely in the mirror. He can do this. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this.
He was wrong, actually: it’s Onew who can - and does - make this awkward. Kibum should have known.
“K-kibum!” Onew stutters, voice unsure and then wavering into shocked certainty. “I! You! You’re here!”
Kibum sets his plate down carefully, “Yes, yes I am.”
Onew is waving Taemin over before Kibum has a chance to think. He introduces the two of them awkwardly with, “Taemin, it’s Kibum! Our Kibum, I mean, I don’t believe it!”
Taemin blinks, frowns, looks long and hard at Kibum. “…Hyung.” He says, tone reprimanding like he has the right to do that and Kibum should hit him in the head or say something sarcastic, something sly, something cunning and brilliant. He can’t find the confidence in himself at this very moment.
Kibum’s heart sinks at the expression on Taemin’s face, because it’s Taemin and Taemin should be able to understand, should not ever judge him and when did they all grow up into adults?
“I’m getting married and I know you’ve like, disowned me for reasons unknown, but I’ve gone through all this trouble to track your home phone number down, so think about coming - please.” Is the message Jonghyun leaves on his answering machine and Kibum can’t say no to that. Who could, really?
Jonghyun’s parents see him and recognize just enough of him to realize who he is. “Kibum,” Jonghyun’s mom tries for enthusiasm but that is lost a little in her obvious surprise, “Oh, how nice of you to come, Jonghyun will be pleased.”
Kibum can see the aunts and cousins already beginning to whisper to each other from where they stand behind Jonghyun’s mom. He puts them out of his mind, there are more important things to take care of, he reminds himself. “Yeah, Jjong left me a message and I figured it was the least I could do.”
Jonghyun’s dad smiles, a smile stretched and anxious and fake, and Kibum can see the contempt forming in his eyes.
“Maybe,” Jonghyun’s dad murmurs, attempting to be consoling, a little enticing even, but it’s really just the padding around the sharp edges of the attack bundled up and on its way, “Maybe you shouldn’t see him? Maybe not tonight.”
Maybe not ever, Kibum hears in the undertones. Fine, he can respect that.
“Are you sure this is what you wanted?” His mother asks, “I know you saved the money and did what you wanted and it’s too late to change it now, but are you sure it’s what you wanted to do with your life?”
Kibum finishes his fruit juice determinedly, pulls absentmindedly at the bunched up bandages peeking out from under his shirt and tells her, “Yes. I’m sure.”
Jonghyun hears from Minho, hears from Taemin, hears from Onew and his mom and his dad and all his extended family, that Kibum is here. He finds Kibum getting ready to leave, sitting on the steps outside of the reception building, thinking, reminiscing.
“So.” Jonghyun says, a little incoherent and at a loss for words.
“So.” Kibum counters, even, calm. “I came.”
“I…see. I didn’t. I didn’t know, I didn’t know you’d.” He pauses and gestures vaguely at all of Kibum. “You know, changed.”
Kibum licks his lips. “Oh. Yeah, I did.”
They sit in silence and Kibum tugs at his skirt before standing up with purpose. “It’s been fun,” he sighs, “But I have stuff to do and your family hates me and all that, so I should be going.”
“Ah.” Jonghyun says and he looks at Kibum curiously. “You’re…so different. Happy, I’m hoping?
Kibum could laugh at Jonghyun’s awe, but smiles ruefully instead. “Yeah.” He tugs at his skirt again and click-clacks his way down the remainder of the stairs. “I know it’s weird,” he admits slowly, and there’s painfully raw honesty in his tone, “I really do know, but then it really is more my style.”
Jonghyun hums thoughtfully at that and has no choice but to wave goodbye. He does so in good nature though, and Kibum thinks at this moment that closure is stupid, because the methods you use don’t always bring it around.
That wasn’t closure, he thinks suddenly, that was deep aching in his soul, a little bit of shame he promised himself he’d never feel for choosing this lifestyle. But he, strangely enough, doesn’t regret coming to the wedding. Is that closure, maybe?
He meets with the doctor and lies on the cold metal table for them to poke and prod and draw approximations on his skin and he takes a deep breath when they say they’re ready to start.
No turning back now.