day by day (oneshot)
Title: day by day
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Blood/Dying character
Pairing: Kaisoo
Length: 2898 words
Summary: It’s cruel to die a little by little, day by day, knowing there’s nothing to do about it.
day by day
Kim Jongin wakes up one morning to find blood on the sheets of his bed.
His first thought is that he must have had a nosebleed during the night. It’s the only possible explanation he can think up of at the moment, and it’s somewhat reasonable, considering that he’s had nosebleeds in his sleep before. He doesn’t think of any other possibilities-there are none, as far as he’s concerned, because it never occurs to him that there are any.
Next to him, Kyungsoo stirs in his sleep and opens his eyes blearily, squinting in the brightness of the morning light. “Morning,” he breathes softly, and Jongin momentarily forgets about the blood as he focuses on Kyungsoo and draws him closer.
“Morning to you, too,” he replies, the hint of a grin spreading lazily across his face as he kisses Kyungsoo lightly on the forehead. “How did you sleep?”
Kyungsoo frowns slightly at that, drawing away. “How did I sleep? You kept me up all night with your coughing.” There’s a teasing undertone to his complaint, however, and Jongin fights to keep the smile off of his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in mock solemnity, then asks, “I was coughing all night?”
“Hacking away,” Kyungsoo answers, and he sounds worried as he gazes at Jongin, still with remnants of drowsiness in his expression. “You’ve been coughing for the past few nights. Are you feeling all right?”
I’m fine, Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but at that moment, Kyungsoo widens his eyes and stares down at the sheets, next to Jongin’s pillow. “There’s blood on the bed.”
“It’s nothing,” Jongin says dismissively, trying not to stare down at the red blotch soaking through the fabric beneath him. “I think I had a nosebleed in the middle of the night.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t look convinced as he stares at Jongin. “There’s no blood on your nose or face. If you had a nosebleed, then it would show.”
“It’s nothing,” Jongin replies cheerfully, and he sits up, stretching as he yawns. “Come on. I’ll clean up the blood and make breakfast today. We can’t be lazy. It’s the weekend.”
“Weekends are meant for sleeping in,” Kyungsoo mumbles sleepily, but Jongin pushes him off the bed and the two of them land on the floor tangled together, and for a moment everything feels absolutely perfect when they’re laughing and next to each other, captured in each other’s embrace.
Later, when Jongin washes the sheets, his vision suddenly blurs and he misses his footing, stumbling slightly as he loses his balance. It’s nothing.
•
It’s in the middle of frying eggs in the pan for breakfast that Jongin feels a sudden wave of dizziness and there’s a quick, tight squeeze of pain in his chest. Kyungsoo gets there just in time to shut off the stove and save the eggs before they go up in fire, while Jongin staggers back and starts coughing into his hands, unable to resist the irritating itch in the back of his throat anymore.
It’s hacking, not coughing, as Kyungsoo had described it. Jongin doubles over, gasping for breath yet never fully catching it as cough after cough rips through his vocal cords, giving him no respite for minutes. When he’s finally stopped and calmed down, with a desperate need for air and tears forming in his eyes, Kyungsoo takes him gently by the arm, pulling his hands away.
Jongin stares at the splatters of red on his palms and realizes that the blood on the bed might not come from a nosebleed.
•
They go see a doctor-Kyungsoo standing by Jongin’s side the entire time, his face pale and emotionless as the doctor runs through a series of checkups on Jongin. In the end, the doctor writes something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Jongin, who stares at it mutely, not wanting to read what’s written on it.
Kyungsoo takes it for him. “More checkups?”
The doctor nods, and Jongin doesn’t like the grave look on his face. “More checkups. I haven’t found anything terribly wrong yet, but there are clues, and we need to go through a more extensive examination. Come back next Wednesday.”
Terribly wrong. Jongin thinks that the word choice is a bit worrying. If nothing was terribly wrong, then did it mean something was already wrong?
When Kyungsoo leads him out of the hospital, Jongin winces at the tight grip the older man has on him the entire time. That night, he forces himself to take deep breaths for hours, clinging onto Kyungsoo as he tries to repress his urge to cough, because it scares him to no end that whenever he coughs, blood comes out of his lungs.
He doesn’t make it to next Wednesday. He doesn’t even make it past twelve hours. When Jongin wakes up again in the morning, there’s a large patch of blood staining the sheets all around him, Kyungsoo is staring at him in horror, and the next thing Jongin knows, they’re sitting side by side in the emergency room of the hospital, and Kyungsoo is shaking even more than he is.
The next two hours are a numb, meaningless flash of events to Jongin. Kyungsoo stays by his side the entire time, whispering words of encouragement into his ear, but Jongin doesn’t listen-doesn’t hear what Kyungsoo tells him, because he doesn’t know what to think himself. Finally, the doctor sits back in his chair and says quietly, “I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid that Jongin-sshi has-”
Jongin tunes out the words. He notices Kyungsoo’s look of absolute terror and the doctor’s sympathetic expression, but he doesn’t hear what the doctor says. He only manages to catch the ending of Kyungsoo’s question, that “are you sure there’s no cure?”
The doctor nods. Kyungsoo looks down at the ground, and Jongin finds himself patting the older man’s shoulder comfortingly. “Let’s go,” he says gently, then turns to the doctor. “Thank you.” But there is nothing to thank the doctor for, and it’s absurd how ridiculous necessary exchanges of etiquette can be in certain situations.
“The doctor said that you have-” Kyungsoo begins in a faltering voice once they’re back home, but Jongin places his finger on Kyungsoo’s lips and shushes.
“I don’t want to know. It’s not curable. So don’t waste your time trying to help me get better. I won’t.” His voice cracks and he struggles to keep himself together, because Kyungsoo can’t see how much it hurts. He has to keep it together for Kyungsoo. “I don’t want to know what I’m dying of. It’s better that way, because then I won’t delude myself in searching for a cure. Anyways, won’t it seem better to go with a flash, dying of a mysterious disease? It’ll make me look cooler.” He forces his lips to curve up in a smile and Kyungsoo stares at him like he’s crazy. Maybe he is crazy.
“It’s not something to joke about,” Kyungsoo says, his voice thick and choked. “It’s never something to joke about.”
“Hush,” Jongin says softly, pulling Kyungsoo into an embrace. “Hush. Don’t make it worse. Do me a favor and just make sure I’ll be happy until I go, okay?”
•
He wakes up in the middle of night to find the space by his side cold and empty. Kyungsoo is gone. Jongin gets out of the bed and walks softly into the living room, only to see the older man fast asleep in front of the computer, sprawled over pages and pages of notes.
He takes a blanket and covers Kyungsoo with it, making sure to not read the notes by accident. He doesn’t want to know about his illness-he doesn’t want to give himself hope. For a moment, he hesitates, then he takes the papers and rips them to pieces, throwing them away. Part of Jongin feels guilty for wasting Kyungsoo’s research, but part of him refuses to let Kyungsoo go through so many disappointments and pain. It’s better if he just learns to let go.
When Kyungsoo wakes up in the morning, Jongin’s already making breakfast, whistling cheerfully and smiling, as if there’s nothing wrong. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything about how his notes are ripped to pieces and lying in trash, but Jongin recognizes the flash of pain in his eyes.
Never mind about that. It hurts to let go, but Kyungsoo’s not the only one who has to come to terms with Jongin’s sickness.
•
On day five of his illness-Jongin has been counting the time since he woke up with blood on the sheets-Jongin sits down to read a book when he loses consciousness, and Kyungsoo catches him from behind when he falls. Jongin wakes up in the doctor’s office, in time to hear Kyungsoo ask how long he has left.
“At the best, six months,” the doctor responds grimly. “I’m sorry. Very sorry.”
Sorry. Such an insignificant, meaningless word, Jongin realizes. Sorry won’t do anything to help. Sorry won’t change anything. Sorry is merely a combination of different sounds formed together to express one’s regret-it has no true meaning behind it.
The doctor tells Kyungsoo that Jongin shouldn’t get out of bed for at least a week and Jongin doesn’t even have the strength to protest, because deep down, he knows that his health has been steadily declining and that the effort to stand up each morning becomes greater and greater. Kyungsoo disappears into the kitchen immediately after he leads Jongin to the bed when they get home, and Jongin drifts off into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning and coughing. He’s gotten used to the coughing and the blood that sometimes comes out of it. The fact that it doesn’t bother him anymore frightens him to no end, but there’s nothing he can do about it.
When he finally wakes up again, Kyungsoo is standing in front of him, holding a bowl and a pair of chopsticks. “I made you kimchi spaghetti,” he says quietly, his voice trembling, and when Jongin looks up, he sees tears filling up and threatening to fall out of the older man’s eyes.
A part of Jongin breaks down, because he’s always the one who shines out-despite the fact that he’s younger than Kyungsoo, between the two of them, he’s always the more active and dominating one. He’s always been on the lookout for Kyungsoo, and now their roles are reversed-Kyungsoo is the one who’s taking care of Jongin while Jongin’s stuck in bed, helpless. It hurts. The sudden change hurts.
“I want to make a will,” he says suddenly.
“A will? Why?”
“Because.” Jongin stares into Kyungsoo’s eyes and holds his gaze. “Not making a will is running away from the inevitable. I might as well face it. You know it, even if you don’t admit it. What will happen if I die and no one knows where my stuff is going?”
“But-”
Kyungsoo has always been there for him. Kyungsoo is even more afraid of Jongin’s illness than Jongin himself. Kyungsoo seems to care for Jongin more than Jongin does. Something catches in Jongin’s throat and he turns away. “Never mind. I don’t need to make one. After I die, everything I own goes to you.”
“Jongin…” It’s a whisper, soft, pleading, and broken. “Don’t talk about this…”
“Do you think I want this?”
Silence follows, broken only by Jongin’s rapid breathing as he glares at Kyungsoo. “Do you think I want to die? Do you think I enjoy talking about this? Do you think I’m excited about this? I’m just trying to keep it so that we don’t have to spend the last few months of my life moping about? I don’t want to end my life like that. I want to get as much of life as I can. So I might as well just accept the fact that I’m going to die soon, and you should too!”
Kyungsoo reaches for his hand and wraps his fingers around his tightly, but says nothing, his eyes still filled with tears. Jongin clears his throat slightly, ignoring the sudden trails of wetness down his cheek.
It hurts.
•
I’m too young to die, is the first thought that rises in his mind the next morning. I’m too young to die. Why do I have to go like this?
I’m scared.
•
Memories are what he goes through, now that he has nothing else to think about. What Jongin likes to reflect upon is how he met Kyungsoo-two years ago, when he was practicing for a dance performance and Kyungsoo was merely a member in the audience who sought him out afterwards to compliment him.
He remembers that first meeting, when he saw that the wide-eyed person standing in front of him, and how he felt this tingle in his stomach when they shook hands.
He remembers all the times Kyungsoo attended his dance practices, watching him from a corner.
He remembers how he ended up asking Kyungsoo on their first date-the ice cream parlor is still across the street. He remembers the flavor of ice cream Kyungsoo bought-cookie dough-and he can’t remember his because he had been too focused on Kyungsoo.
He remembers their first kiss, in the corner of the dance studio, when no one else was around.
He remembers how they began living with each other. He remembers…
Soon, even his memories won’t exist.
Kyungsoo spends the days talking with Jongin, and they chat about their lives before they met, what they thought when they first met, the news-everything except for the fact that Jongin is dying. Jongin asks Kyungsoo to sing for him “that lullaby you told me about when we first met. You never sang it to me.”
Kyungsoo flushes and pushes Jongin gently, grinning. “I’m not in the mood to sing at the moment. I might choke up and ruin it by making it sound too sorrowful.” There’s a silence as he realizes what he has just said, and Jongin shakes his head.
“Never mind,” he says lightly, forcing a smile as Kyungsoo stares down at his hands. “You didn’t mean to say it on purpose. You didn’t mean it that way. Forget about it.”
Forced enthusiasm doesn’t take people very far, however, as Jongin learns whenever he recounts the progress of his illness. It doesn’t take people very far at all, not when the numbers on the scale shrink at an alarming, unhealthy rate with each passing day, and his coughs get worse and worse.
Day twelve. Jongin begins getting sudden attacks of dizziness when he stands up for too long.
Day fifteen. A high fever.
Day nineteen. Life expectancy gets shortened to four more months instead of six.
Day twenty-five. Doctor says to stay in bed most of the day.
It’s cruel to die over a long period of time-slowly but surely, because it causes all the more pain and grief. It’s cruel to get worse day by day, and not be able to do anything about it. And Jongin thanks Kyungsoo in his mind over and over again for staying by his side without fail, no matter what.
It’s exceedingly painful on Kyungsoo, too, perhaps even more than on Jongin. He’s the one watching.
•
Lying on the bed at night, Jongin feels Kyungsoo wrap his arms around him, and Kyungsoo whispers in his ear, “I love you. I don’t ever want you to go.”
Jongin doesn’t dare to answer, because he’s too afraid that he’ll start crying and ruin the fragile happiness and peace they’ve built up in the past month. Instead, he snuggles up to Kyungsoo and closes his eyes, hoping that Kyungsoo will understand that he doesn’t want to go either. I love you too.
Kyungsoo strokes his hair gently, and Jongin knows he understands.
•
They’re watching television together, sitting on the couch side by side, staring at the people running around on the screen without really paying attention to what’s actually happening.
The weather is gorgeous-sunlight streams into the windows of the living room and there’s not a single cloud in sight of the bright blue sky. Kyungsoo finally turns off the television-no one is really watching anyway-and they sit there in a comfortable silence for a while, basking in the moment of peace.
“That lullaby you were talking about,” Kyungsoo finally says quietly after a few minutes. “You were wrong in that I never sang it to you. I sang it to you all the time, when you were asleep. You just never heard.”
“Then sing it to me now,” Jongin whispers back. “I want to hear it.”
Kyungsoo begins singing the first few notes, softly, his voice trembling, but it’s still the most beautiful song Jongin has ever heard in his life, because it’s Kyungsoo. When the older man finishes singing, Jongin fights back the tears and nods his approval, lacing his fingers in between Kyungsoo’s. “It’s perfect.”
Someday soon, he’ll be too sick to get out of bed in the mornings anymore. Someday soon, he’ll be too sick to eat much, too sick to talk and move around. Someday soon, he will die. But for now, when Jongin leans his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and closes his eyes, he pretends to himself that everything is going to be all right.
•
a/n: i promise this deluge of kaisoo angst will stop. one day. asjlkdfjadskfjasdl this needs so much editing and why the heck am i writing about people dying anyways ;A;
ummm…the lullaby part is kind of stolen from Cassandra Clare and the title is inspired by Big Bang’s Haru Haru and it’s ironic because day has the connotation of life /shot for randomly adding symbolism
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): Blood/Dying character
Pairing: Kaisoo
Length: 2898 words
Summary: It’s cruel to die a little by little, day by day, knowing there’s nothing to do about it.
day by day
Kim Jongin wakes up one morning to find blood on the sheets of his bed.
His first thought is that he must have had a nosebleed during the night. It’s the only possible explanation he can think up of at the moment, and it’s somewhat reasonable, considering that he’s had nosebleeds in his sleep before. He doesn’t think of any other possibilities-there are none, as far as he’s concerned, because it never occurs to him that there are any.
Next to him, Kyungsoo stirs in his sleep and opens his eyes blearily, squinting in the brightness of the morning light. “Morning,” he breathes softly, and Jongin momentarily forgets about the blood as he focuses on Kyungsoo and draws him closer.
“Morning to you, too,” he replies, the hint of a grin spreading lazily across his face as he kisses Kyungsoo lightly on the forehead. “How did you sleep?”
Kyungsoo frowns slightly at that, drawing away. “How did I sleep? You kept me up all night with your coughing.” There’s a teasing undertone to his complaint, however, and Jongin fights to keep the smile off of his face.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in mock solemnity, then asks, “I was coughing all night?”
“Hacking away,” Kyungsoo answers, and he sounds worried as he gazes at Jongin, still with remnants of drowsiness in his expression. “You’ve been coughing for the past few nights. Are you feeling all right?”
I’m fine, Jongin opens his mouth to answer, but at that moment, Kyungsoo widens his eyes and stares down at the sheets, next to Jongin’s pillow. “There’s blood on the bed.”
“It’s nothing,” Jongin says dismissively, trying not to stare down at the red blotch soaking through the fabric beneath him. “I think I had a nosebleed in the middle of the night.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t look convinced as he stares at Jongin. “There’s no blood on your nose or face. If you had a nosebleed, then it would show.”
“It’s nothing,” Jongin replies cheerfully, and he sits up, stretching as he yawns. “Come on. I’ll clean up the blood and make breakfast today. We can’t be lazy. It’s the weekend.”
“Weekends are meant for sleeping in,” Kyungsoo mumbles sleepily, but Jongin pushes him off the bed and the two of them land on the floor tangled together, and for a moment everything feels absolutely perfect when they’re laughing and next to each other, captured in each other’s embrace.
Later, when Jongin washes the sheets, his vision suddenly blurs and he misses his footing, stumbling slightly as he loses his balance. It’s nothing.
•
It’s in the middle of frying eggs in the pan for breakfast that Jongin feels a sudden wave of dizziness and there’s a quick, tight squeeze of pain in his chest. Kyungsoo gets there just in time to shut off the stove and save the eggs before they go up in fire, while Jongin staggers back and starts coughing into his hands, unable to resist the irritating itch in the back of his throat anymore.
It’s hacking, not coughing, as Kyungsoo had described it. Jongin doubles over, gasping for breath yet never fully catching it as cough after cough rips through his vocal cords, giving him no respite for minutes. When he’s finally stopped and calmed down, with a desperate need for air and tears forming in his eyes, Kyungsoo takes him gently by the arm, pulling his hands away.
Jongin stares at the splatters of red on his palms and realizes that the blood on the bed might not come from a nosebleed.
•
They go see a doctor-Kyungsoo standing by Jongin’s side the entire time, his face pale and emotionless as the doctor runs through a series of checkups on Jongin. In the end, the doctor writes something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Jongin, who stares at it mutely, not wanting to read what’s written on it.
Kyungsoo takes it for him. “More checkups?”
The doctor nods, and Jongin doesn’t like the grave look on his face. “More checkups. I haven’t found anything terribly wrong yet, but there are clues, and we need to go through a more extensive examination. Come back next Wednesday.”
Terribly wrong. Jongin thinks that the word choice is a bit worrying. If nothing was terribly wrong, then did it mean something was already wrong?
When Kyungsoo leads him out of the hospital, Jongin winces at the tight grip the older man has on him the entire time. That night, he forces himself to take deep breaths for hours, clinging onto Kyungsoo as he tries to repress his urge to cough, because it scares him to no end that whenever he coughs, blood comes out of his lungs.
He doesn’t make it to next Wednesday. He doesn’t even make it past twelve hours. When Jongin wakes up again in the morning, there’s a large patch of blood staining the sheets all around him, Kyungsoo is staring at him in horror, and the next thing Jongin knows, they’re sitting side by side in the emergency room of the hospital, and Kyungsoo is shaking even more than he is.
The next two hours are a numb, meaningless flash of events to Jongin. Kyungsoo stays by his side the entire time, whispering words of encouragement into his ear, but Jongin doesn’t listen-doesn’t hear what Kyungsoo tells him, because he doesn’t know what to think himself. Finally, the doctor sits back in his chair and says quietly, “I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid that Jongin-sshi has-”
Jongin tunes out the words. He notices Kyungsoo’s look of absolute terror and the doctor’s sympathetic expression, but he doesn’t hear what the doctor says. He only manages to catch the ending of Kyungsoo’s question, that “are you sure there’s no cure?”
The doctor nods. Kyungsoo looks down at the ground, and Jongin finds himself patting the older man’s shoulder comfortingly. “Let’s go,” he says gently, then turns to the doctor. “Thank you.” But there is nothing to thank the doctor for, and it’s absurd how ridiculous necessary exchanges of etiquette can be in certain situations.
“The doctor said that you have-” Kyungsoo begins in a faltering voice once they’re back home, but Jongin places his finger on Kyungsoo’s lips and shushes.
“I don’t want to know. It’s not curable. So don’t waste your time trying to help me get better. I won’t.” His voice cracks and he struggles to keep himself together, because Kyungsoo can’t see how much it hurts. He has to keep it together for Kyungsoo. “I don’t want to know what I’m dying of. It’s better that way, because then I won’t delude myself in searching for a cure. Anyways, won’t it seem better to go with a flash, dying of a mysterious disease? It’ll make me look cooler.” He forces his lips to curve up in a smile and Kyungsoo stares at him like he’s crazy. Maybe he is crazy.
“It’s not something to joke about,” Kyungsoo says, his voice thick and choked. “It’s never something to joke about.”
“Hush,” Jongin says softly, pulling Kyungsoo into an embrace. “Hush. Don’t make it worse. Do me a favor and just make sure I’ll be happy until I go, okay?”
•
He wakes up in the middle of night to find the space by his side cold and empty. Kyungsoo is gone. Jongin gets out of the bed and walks softly into the living room, only to see the older man fast asleep in front of the computer, sprawled over pages and pages of notes.
He takes a blanket and covers Kyungsoo with it, making sure to not read the notes by accident. He doesn’t want to know about his illness-he doesn’t want to give himself hope. For a moment, he hesitates, then he takes the papers and rips them to pieces, throwing them away. Part of Jongin feels guilty for wasting Kyungsoo’s research, but part of him refuses to let Kyungsoo go through so many disappointments and pain. It’s better if he just learns to let go.
When Kyungsoo wakes up in the morning, Jongin’s already making breakfast, whistling cheerfully and smiling, as if there’s nothing wrong. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything about how his notes are ripped to pieces and lying in trash, but Jongin recognizes the flash of pain in his eyes.
Never mind about that. It hurts to let go, but Kyungsoo’s not the only one who has to come to terms with Jongin’s sickness.
•
On day five of his illness-Jongin has been counting the time since he woke up with blood on the sheets-Jongin sits down to read a book when he loses consciousness, and Kyungsoo catches him from behind when he falls. Jongin wakes up in the doctor’s office, in time to hear Kyungsoo ask how long he has left.
“At the best, six months,” the doctor responds grimly. “I’m sorry. Very sorry.”
Sorry. Such an insignificant, meaningless word, Jongin realizes. Sorry won’t do anything to help. Sorry won’t change anything. Sorry is merely a combination of different sounds formed together to express one’s regret-it has no true meaning behind it.
The doctor tells Kyungsoo that Jongin shouldn’t get out of bed for at least a week and Jongin doesn’t even have the strength to protest, because deep down, he knows that his health has been steadily declining and that the effort to stand up each morning becomes greater and greater. Kyungsoo disappears into the kitchen immediately after he leads Jongin to the bed when they get home, and Jongin drifts off into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning and coughing. He’s gotten used to the coughing and the blood that sometimes comes out of it. The fact that it doesn’t bother him anymore frightens him to no end, but there’s nothing he can do about it.
When he finally wakes up again, Kyungsoo is standing in front of him, holding a bowl and a pair of chopsticks. “I made you kimchi spaghetti,” he says quietly, his voice trembling, and when Jongin looks up, he sees tears filling up and threatening to fall out of the older man’s eyes.
A part of Jongin breaks down, because he’s always the one who shines out-despite the fact that he’s younger than Kyungsoo, between the two of them, he’s always the more active and dominating one. He’s always been on the lookout for Kyungsoo, and now their roles are reversed-Kyungsoo is the one who’s taking care of Jongin while Jongin’s stuck in bed, helpless. It hurts. The sudden change hurts.
“I want to make a will,” he says suddenly.
“A will? Why?”
“Because.” Jongin stares into Kyungsoo’s eyes and holds his gaze. “Not making a will is running away from the inevitable. I might as well face it. You know it, even if you don’t admit it. What will happen if I die and no one knows where my stuff is going?”
“But-”
Kyungsoo has always been there for him. Kyungsoo is even more afraid of Jongin’s illness than Jongin himself. Kyungsoo seems to care for Jongin more than Jongin does. Something catches in Jongin’s throat and he turns away. “Never mind. I don’t need to make one. After I die, everything I own goes to you.”
“Jongin…” It’s a whisper, soft, pleading, and broken. “Don’t talk about this…”
“Do you think I want this?”
Silence follows, broken only by Jongin’s rapid breathing as he glares at Kyungsoo. “Do you think I want to die? Do you think I enjoy talking about this? Do you think I’m excited about this? I’m just trying to keep it so that we don’t have to spend the last few months of my life moping about? I don’t want to end my life like that. I want to get as much of life as I can. So I might as well just accept the fact that I’m going to die soon, and you should too!”
Kyungsoo reaches for his hand and wraps his fingers around his tightly, but says nothing, his eyes still filled with tears. Jongin clears his throat slightly, ignoring the sudden trails of wetness down his cheek.
It hurts.
•
I’m too young to die, is the first thought that rises in his mind the next morning. I’m too young to die. Why do I have to go like this?
I’m scared.
•
Memories are what he goes through, now that he has nothing else to think about. What Jongin likes to reflect upon is how he met Kyungsoo-two years ago, when he was practicing for a dance performance and Kyungsoo was merely a member in the audience who sought him out afterwards to compliment him.
He remembers that first meeting, when he saw that the wide-eyed person standing in front of him, and how he felt this tingle in his stomach when they shook hands.
He remembers all the times Kyungsoo attended his dance practices, watching him from a corner.
He remembers how he ended up asking Kyungsoo on their first date-the ice cream parlor is still across the street. He remembers the flavor of ice cream Kyungsoo bought-cookie dough-and he can’t remember his because he had been too focused on Kyungsoo.
He remembers their first kiss, in the corner of the dance studio, when no one else was around.
He remembers how they began living with each other. He remembers…
Soon, even his memories won’t exist.
Kyungsoo spends the days talking with Jongin, and they chat about their lives before they met, what they thought when they first met, the news-everything except for the fact that Jongin is dying. Jongin asks Kyungsoo to sing for him “that lullaby you told me about when we first met. You never sang it to me.”
Kyungsoo flushes and pushes Jongin gently, grinning. “I’m not in the mood to sing at the moment. I might choke up and ruin it by making it sound too sorrowful.” There’s a silence as he realizes what he has just said, and Jongin shakes his head.
“Never mind,” he says lightly, forcing a smile as Kyungsoo stares down at his hands. “You didn’t mean to say it on purpose. You didn’t mean it that way. Forget about it.”
Forced enthusiasm doesn’t take people very far, however, as Jongin learns whenever he recounts the progress of his illness. It doesn’t take people very far at all, not when the numbers on the scale shrink at an alarming, unhealthy rate with each passing day, and his coughs get worse and worse.
Day twelve. Jongin begins getting sudden attacks of dizziness when he stands up for too long.
Day fifteen. A high fever.
Day nineteen. Life expectancy gets shortened to four more months instead of six.
Day twenty-five. Doctor says to stay in bed most of the day.
It’s cruel to die over a long period of time-slowly but surely, because it causes all the more pain and grief. It’s cruel to get worse day by day, and not be able to do anything about it. And Jongin thanks Kyungsoo in his mind over and over again for staying by his side without fail, no matter what.
It’s exceedingly painful on Kyungsoo, too, perhaps even more than on Jongin. He’s the one watching.
•
Lying on the bed at night, Jongin feels Kyungsoo wrap his arms around him, and Kyungsoo whispers in his ear, “I love you. I don’t ever want you to go.”
Jongin doesn’t dare to answer, because he’s too afraid that he’ll start crying and ruin the fragile happiness and peace they’ve built up in the past month. Instead, he snuggles up to Kyungsoo and closes his eyes, hoping that Kyungsoo will understand that he doesn’t want to go either. I love you too.
Kyungsoo strokes his hair gently, and Jongin knows he understands.
•
They’re watching television together, sitting on the couch side by side, staring at the people running around on the screen without really paying attention to what’s actually happening.
The weather is gorgeous-sunlight streams into the windows of the living room and there’s not a single cloud in sight of the bright blue sky. Kyungsoo finally turns off the television-no one is really watching anyway-and they sit there in a comfortable silence for a while, basking in the moment of peace.
“That lullaby you were talking about,” Kyungsoo finally says quietly after a few minutes. “You were wrong in that I never sang it to you. I sang it to you all the time, when you were asleep. You just never heard.”
“Then sing it to me now,” Jongin whispers back. “I want to hear it.”
Kyungsoo begins singing the first few notes, softly, his voice trembling, but it’s still the most beautiful song Jongin has ever heard in his life, because it’s Kyungsoo. When the older man finishes singing, Jongin fights back the tears and nods his approval, lacing his fingers in between Kyungsoo’s. “It’s perfect.”
Someday soon, he’ll be too sick to get out of bed in the mornings anymore. Someday soon, he’ll be too sick to eat much, too sick to talk and move around. Someday soon, he will die. But for now, when Jongin leans his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder and closes his eyes, he pretends to himself that everything is going to be all right.
•
a/n: i promise this deluge of kaisoo angst will stop. one day. asjlkdfjadskfjasdl this needs so much editing and why the heck am i writing about people dying anyways ;A;
ummm…the lullaby part is kind of stolen from Cassandra Clare and the title is inspired by Big Bang’s Haru Haru and it’s ironic because day has the connotation of life /shot for randomly adding symbolism