Two Way Monologue [3/3]
Three
“I need my visiting times extended.” Jongin grits through his teeth, hands gripping the edges of Junmyeon’s desks in a death grip. “It’s not a want anymore. He needs to hear everything I need to say, because I don’t know how much longer he has left.”
“I know.” Junmyeon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s…very complicated. You’ve had the longest time slots compared to other visitors already, so proposing for another day…it’s a little out of reach as of now.” Junmyeon buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Please.” Jongin sinks into the chair in front of Junmyeon. “Please, I’m begging you. Talk to someone, anyone. Otherwise I might have to commit a crime to spend more time with him.”
Junmyeon gives him a look, before finally bursting into laughter. The lines on his forehead don’t disappear, though, as if the weight of Baekhyun’s sadness has somehow etched itself onto him. “Kim Jongin. Do you even think before you say something?”
“I’m serious.”
Junmyeon laughs again, folding his arms on the table and shaking his head. “I know. I’ll try again - maybe I’ll put forward your ultimatum with that.”
÷
It’s a little after ten o’clock that night when Jongin’s phone vibrates on his bedside table. He puts down his glass of orange juice on his bedside table and frowns at the unknown number’s text message.
Another 30-minute slot every Tuesday, effective as of this week. It’s a late slot, from 10:30pm, but that’s the best I can do. See you in two days!
Junmyeon.
Jongin sighs, flopping down on his too-hard mattress and burying himself in the sheets. His mind is whirring, thinking of all the possible things he might want to talk to Baekhyun about, and how Baekhyun might respond to it. After all, Baekhyun’s moods are always unpredictable these days, though Jongin is not sure what might affect it - the weather? His food? Junmyeon’s latest lame jokes?
And he realises, as he soundly falls asleep to the dimming of his phone screen, that he might be a little - just a little - nervous.
÷
The first thought that crosses Baekhyun’s mind when Jongin sits down opposite him is how much he loathes the glass barrier separating them, and how much he wants to be back in his cell with Jongin snipping away at his unruly locks. With Jongin in his arms, as if for a moment he could fool himself into thinking that he’s able to protect Jongin from all the evil and sadness in the world.
The second thought is that holy crap, Jongin looks really good in casual clothing. But he ignores the latter when Jongin looks up at him, his mouth pressed into a thin line as if he’s about to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Although Baekhyun knows exactly what’s wrong. He bites his lip. “Please don’t look so sad. I didn’t tell you all those things to make you sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
“Then smile.” Baekhyun says, following his own instructions. “You’re a good-looking young man, and not smiling makes you look otherwise.”
Jongin seems to be taken aback by the statement, and for a moment Baekhyun wonders if he’s gone too far and crossed the line when Jongin cracks a grin, small but enough. “Thanks. You too.” Upon realising what it sounds like, he makes a noise of protest and blurts out, “Smiling I mean.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Baekhyun picks at the wooden table. “My hair’s not in the way anymore.”
Jongin grins at him, seemingly proud of his own handiwork. “I swear I have the potential to be a hairdresser.”
“Yeah, you’d give all your customers a poodle cut.”
“You hair is amazing, okay.” At the compliment, Baekhyun unconsciously runs a hand through his hair, short strands soft under his palm. “You look really young.”
“Speaking of being young,” Baekhyun tries. “When you danced…have you tried dancing to classical music?”
“Of course. I took ballet courses at one point.”
“Oh yeah, I remember reading about it somewhere.”
Almost smirking, Jongin leans in closer to the glass barrier. “You read up on me?”
Baekhyun feels himself blushing, his cheeks so hot it’s a miracle the glass hasn’t fogged up yet. “Never…specifically I mean. I just found it somewhere.”
“That’s okay. I used to do a bit of researching about you, too. But it was all useless.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re nothing like what the articles say you are.”
÷
“It’s late. You should probably head home.”
He sees Jongin glance out the window, watching the way the streetlights flicker in the windy night. They’ve completely lost track of time, and Baekhyun has only been reminded of how late it is when he realises the absence of the usual silent hum of the city. He wonders why Junmyeon hasn’t come to remind Jongin the time is up, yet. It’s definitely midnight, if not later.
“Not late enough to leave you alone.”
Baekhyun laughs. “It’s alright, just go. There will be people worrying about you.”
The statement sounds like a jab at reality, like a reminder of how different they are. The words came out a little too poisonously, and Baekhyun tries to cover it up with an over-exaggerated happy face. It doesn’t work.
“Honestly, Jongin.” Baekhyun sighs, seeing Jongin frown. “I’m fine. It’s been really good talking to you tonight.”
“Junmyeon worries about you. I worry about you.” Jongin mumbles a little belatedly, and Baekhyun’s heart skips a beat and his stomach does a small flip. “I’m staying.”
“As tempting as that sounds, you can’t.” He says regretfully. “Visiting time. It’s limited.”
“I know. I just -“ Jongin shifts in his seat, mulling the words over in his head. “The other day, I heard you singing. I didn’t know you could sing. And my first thought was wow, that’s a beautiful sound.” Jongin’s cheeks are slowly turning pink under the yellowish light of the room, and Baekhyun suddenly wishes he could penetrate the glass and touch the expanse of his skin. “But then I also thought that…it was the loneliest sound I’ve ever heard.”
Stunned, Baekhyun freezes in his seat, not knowing how to respond to Jongin’s statement. Around Jongin, Baekhyun has come to realise that he turns infinitely happier and more carefree, less hostile to anyone who tries to breach into his trust. Jongin has unknowingly opened the gates to the deepest crevices of his mind, his thoughts and his heart - as if Jongin had coaxed him and he had been so oblivious as to follow it all along. For Jongin to have broken through the different layers of his façades - monotony, anger, confusion, passion and happiness - he has broken into the final, deepest one of all. Emptiness.
A side Baekhyun wishes he would never experience.
“I didn’t even know it still exists.”
Jongin finally looks up. “What?”
“That feeling. Emptiness. I didn’t know I still had it in me.” Tracing circles on the glass, Baekhyun stares past Jongin, past the walls of the prison, through to his train of thoughts. “Because as of late, you’ve been occupying every empty space I had.”
And it’s true, Baekhyun thinks as they exchange goodnights with Jongin’s smile playing softly on his lips, that he has been preoccupied with thoughts of nothing but Jongin, Jongin and Jongin.
And how Baekhyun thinks he should do that more often.
Smiling, he means.
÷
For the first time since he’d been sentenced to his death penalty, Baekhyun is reluctant to step inside his cell. Most days he would welcome the feel of the hard and clammy floor under him, the metal around his wrists, even the white noise he hears when he closes his eyes - keys jingling, gates scraping open, the quiet murmurs of the inmates he had never endeavoured to know better.
The guard grunts something incoherently, and Baekhyun understands enough to drag his feet into his enclosed space. At least he’s alone inside. Being sentenced to death gives you superior treatment in this place - there’s more pity included.
(With Jongin, he never feels pitied on.)
As soon as he’s on the ground he instinctively curls up on himself, as if the air has gotten colder all of a sudden when really, it’s just loneliness he’s feeling, prodding at him from all sides. He shuffles backwards, feeling his back hit the wall and it’s cold. Nothing compared to the warmth he had felt holding Jongin close, or the warmth he feels as he watches minute expressions flash by Jongin’s face when he talks, as if just by having him there it’s like having the sun in his cradle, making Baekhyun feel comfortable and secure and so content without Jongin having to do anything but be himself.
He thinks back to all he has said to Jongin, feeling guilt settling in the pit of his stomach and making him a little queasy. First he has promised Jongin that he’d be truthful, and as he turns his thoughts over and over in his mind he wonders if he’s been truthful all this time.
Convincing Jongin that he had no regrets about anything was a breeze for Baekhyun, because that’s what he’d been doing to himself all along. He didn’t have any regrets. Didn’t. But for a while now…
Baekhyun rummages through the small pile of paper at the foot of his bunk, and between the blank pages he hasn’t written on he finds Jongin’s picture of leaves. Baekhyun didn’t have any regrets, but looking at the picture, he realises that for a while now he’s not so sure of himself. Talking to Jongin was supposed to just be a good way to kill time. But now he’s afraid of seeing Jongin.
Had he not killed the people, Baekhyun wonders, for a second, what kind of life he’d have had. His thought trails on, his subconscious apparently giving no heed to taking control of his mind, and he wonders if he’d ever give piano a second chance, or if he’d continue living in hiding all his life. He wonders if he’d find someone, settle down, maybe get married and live blissfully happy without a care. The thought of it seems to far away, too impossible.
But then he closes his eyes and in an instant, Jongin’s face crosses his mind. Jongin’s smile, small and inquisitive, fills every dark space like words scrawled in a book. The way Jongin is always quiet when he sits in front of the glass barrier and would stay quiet until Baekhyun initiates the conversation, and the look Jongin would give him when he says something interesting. Baekhyun doesn’t know when, but pretty soon after they met their meetings have stopped being counseling sessions and have been an exchange between two souls, two states of mind in need of another that would understand, and would give moral support without a second thought.
Now Baekhyun waits for Tuesdays and Thursdays. If only the entire week was filled with Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s pretty sad, he thinks, how he’s chasing after days and after every hour within them. Right now, it’s 5pm on a Wednesday. In exactly 10 hours, he’ll be able to see Jongin. Excitement rushes through Baekhyun’s veins, but is abruptly replaced with apprehension.
Because he’s afraid that when he sees Jongin, he’ll want to keep on living.
÷
“Jongin!”
Something hard and definitely not supposed to be thrown around in the air thwacks Jongin on the head, coaxing a loud groan out of him. He turns in his chair to zero in on Sehun and Luhan’s smiling figures, cursing under his breath. He swears the two never leave each other’s sides.
“You promised you’d go out for coffee with us after you finish your paperwork.”
“We’ve been keeping an eye on you.” Sehun says, tongue peeking out to lick his lip habitually. “You’ve finished your work exactly 13 minutes ago.”
“Hey! That’s creepy.” Jongin hisses, but inside he feels relieved to have something to distract him for a while. “Sure, I’ll be out soon. Give me a few minutes to clear my table up.”
“We’re giving you two!” Luhan waves a hand. “Sehun here needs his Americano soon or he’ll throw a tantrum.”
Shaking his head at the pair, Jongin stands up to clear his desk, glancing up at the TV overhead. He freezes when he reads the headline flashing across the screen, turning blood cold at the words.
MINISTRY OF JUSTICE CONFIRMS THE FOLLOWING TWO INMATES ON DEATH ROW TO HAVE BEEN EXECUTED.
In a flurry of panic, Jongin rushes over to the television much to the confusion of other workers, praying under his breath for names he doesn’t recognise to come up.
The names glare across the screen and Jongin nearly collapses onto his knees, right there and then, but all he does is run his hand through his hair and sighs in relief. The names are just words to him, and none say Byun Baekhyun.
“Jongin! Your two minutes are up!”
He casts a glance at the TV one last time before shouting back. “Coming!”
÷
Coffee with Sehun and Luhan is always a nice occasion, and Jongin has to say that despite his lackluster conversational skills, they set the mood up incredibly well for Jongin to be comfortable - to not feel left out, but not questioned too often either.
Though he must have been way subpar with his social interactions today, because after a while Luhan had asked him what was in his mind, and noted that he had been looking more distracted than usual. Jongin just waved it off and said it was because of his session with Baekhyun soon, ignoring the grinning face of Sehun off to the side.
He didn’t want to tell them that the news he watched earlier had been like a bucket of cold water on him; a reality check. A reminder that Baekhyun will die, most probably sooner than later.
Even as he’s sitting down in front of Junmyeon and Baekhyun, Jongin is spacing out and Junmyeon’s words fly past him in an indecipherable mess.
“What?” He says, when he realises the room has gone quiet. Baekhyun is looking at him a little skeptically, head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, my mind was wandering.”
Junmyeon laughs. “That’s okay. I was saying, isn’t it your birthday next Tuesday? If you want, we can have a small, private party. Baekhyun suggested it this morning, actually.”
Baekhyun’s face flushes a deep red, and Jongin can’t help but grin.
“I mean, if you…you know, don’t have any other parties to attend to. I know your family, and all - they must want to.”
“I don’t have anyone else who’d care, apart from probably two of my co-workers.” Just picturing spending a day with Baekhyun has Jongin giddy with anticipation. “It’s really kind of you to remember, and I’d be happy to.”
They exchange promises in the form of soft smiles and steady eye contact before Junmyeon is called out. He bids the two a short farewell before running out.
“You don’t look too happy today.” Baekhyun notes from his side of the glass barrier, brows furrowing under his neatly trimmed fringe. “Is anything wrong?”
Jongin thinks of the news, and decides that it’s best he keeps it to himself. “No, I just. Well. No.”
From the look on Baekhyun’s face, Jongin can tell he doesn’t believe it, but he has the decency to drop the subject. It’s one of the small details Jongin likes about their relationship. One can tell that the other prefers to keep his thoughts inside, and they can drop the subject whenever one feels uncomfortable.
“Do you want anything for your birthday?”
The question catches Jongin off-guard. No one has asked him specifically what present he wanted.
“I mean, it’s not like I can go out and buy you anything but if there’s something I can do, I’ll try.”
“I don’t know. Nothing has really caught my eye lately.” Jongin admits.
“Think harder. Maybe something from the past?”
It’s then that Jongin realises that he and Baekhyun goes a long, long way back. The skinny, fragile boy sitting behind the window, his face hidden behind the big wooden piano - the boy who never notices Jongin as his sole, most dedicated audience.
“The piano…” At the word, Baekhyun visibly freezes. “If you can, I want to hear you play the piano one more…time.”
Jongin wishes he could reel all his words back in, cut off his tongue and dispose of it in the deepest hellfire because Baekhyun is looking like Jongin has burdened his shoulders with the world, the traumas and pain piled up high on his back. Jongin thinks he can’t get any more stupid than this.
“What was I thinking, never mind! I’m sorry. Please just forget about it, really.”
“I’ll play.” Baekhyun quietly replies, cutting off Jongin’s blabbering. “And in return…will you promise to never try and kill yourself again?”
The request is one that he’s heard many a time before, but the fact that it’s coming out of Baekhyun’s mouth brings a stinging feeling to the back of Jongin’s eyes that he has to hang his head and focus intently on his fumbling fingers.
“You’ve taught me how to enjoy the idleness of life. To cherish what little time I have, that there’s always something - someone, to make life worth living even for only a little while. You taught me to count the days I have left to live, and not how long I have left to die.” A tear spills out of the corner of Baekhyun’s eye and streaks down his cheek, his hand quickly reaching up to wipe it away. “How - how can you teach people how to live, and then die alone? It doesn’t make sense…”
“The world is unfair. You’ve taught me just as much.” Jongin brings a hand to the glass, splaying his palm on the transparent surface. Baekhyun looks up a little hesitantly, before reaching up to press his own on Jongin’s. Everything is real, but surreal at the same time. “I want you to live another year. I want you to live another ten, twenty, thirty years because that’s what you deserve. You’ve taught me what to see in life, and with that you’ve given me another lifetime.” Jongin’s voice cracks, feeling as if there are iron bands around his chest. “And you’re getting yours taken away.”
If time had frozen right there and then, it would have resulted in a perfect depiction of melancholy and distress, a thousand words to say and would have been said hanging thick between the barrier separating them. If time had frozen right then, it would also be crumbling. Like there is nothing solid within it anymore, like the ice is breaking all around them, sending their world spiraling down into darkness.
It’s one more hard and hopeless thing, and they were both tired of hard and hopeless things.
÷
“Can we have one more granted wish?”
“You’re so greedy.”
“I have every right to be.”
The covers don’t smell like himself, making Jongin wonder exactly how many nights he spends actually sleeping in it. Baekhyun had apparently persuaded Junmyeon to use his phone, because he had something to say that can’t wait until their next meeting. Jongin finds the action adorable, albeit a little heartbreaking.
“Alright. What is it?”
“Dance for me.” Baekhyun says a little breathlessly. “You said you dance classical. Dance to my music.”
Jongin bites his bottom lip. “Why?”
Silence is relayed over the line, before Baekhyun is sighing. “I can’t practice piano in jail. And so I only have one piece I committed to memory when I was young, but with it comes not exactly the best…memories.” Baekhyun stops. “I just…I want to be reminded of something that makes me happy when I play it, to replace the past.”
Jongin clutches his phone harder, steadying his breathing as his mind runs a mile a second. Dancing. To Baekhyun’s music.
“Jongin?”
“I’m here.”
“Will you do it?”
In all honesty, Jongin is prepared for anything Baekhyun wants. He realises he’d never be able to say no to him.
“Alright. In return, can you pray for me…so that I’ll stop trying to kill myself?”
The line crackles. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve been praying for that the minute I laid eyes on you.”
÷
If Jongin were to be completely honest, he’d say he was a quitter. All his life, he’d been taught not to waste a minute of his life and to have a single goal that he should strive towards. It’s because of this that he realises the better you get at something, the more people expect of you, and in turn the harder you’ll have to work. It’s a vicious cycle, and Jongin sees no other solution that running away from it all together.
Just standing in the middle of the dance floor reminded him of why he quit in the first place, but the thoughts are instantly replaced by one objective; Baekhyun.
Testing the waters, he tries a pirouette, spinning uncontrollably and stumbling at the end. Wincing, he feels a shooting pain in his ankle, and realises he hasn’t stretched yet. Not that it’d make a difference.
He turns around, facing the mirror and staring into his own face, but only seeing Baekhyun’s in the dark depths of his eyebags and the hollows of his cheekbones.
It’s going to be a long night.
÷
“It’s really random. Just as you start to wonder how many years it’s going to be, a bunch of execution orders come back to back.”
It’s been a long time since Junmyeon’s face is absent of any smile. Today his face is a tempest, his complexion grey and the deep lines on his forehead accentuating the internal battle raging in him. He turns away from the guards, not wanting to hear another word they say and his eyes fall on the uniform he had neatly put away all those months ago.
He reluctantly rummages his pockets.
÷
“Oh, Junmyeon?” Jongin munches through his cereal, feeling lighter than usual after his successful practice last night. His muscles still ache, but it’s a constant reminder of what he’d been working so hard on and it’s not an unwelcome feeling. “I was just about to call you. How’s it going?”
“Jongin.”
Something in Junmyeon’s voice puts a frown on Jongin’s face. He drops his spoon, and sensing an impending disaster he stalks over to his room, grabbing a jacket. “Junmyeon? What’s wrong?”
“We just got orders from the higher-ups.” His voice is reduced to a mere whisper, and Jongin doesn’t need further explanations. “I’m sorry.”
Jongin runs.
÷
As soon as Jongin arrives, he slams the door of Junmyeon’s office open and, ignoring Junmyeon’s dejected face, grabs a fistful his shirt and shakes him.
“Junmyeon!”
“I’m sorry, I tried to stop him but -“ one of the guards start to say, but Jongin cuts him short.
“Let me see him!”
“I can’t do that.” Junmyeon says monotonously, unaffected by Jongin’s rash actions.
“I’ll take responsibility!”
“You can’t do that.”
At Junmyeon’s obvious reluctance to do anything, Jongin lets go of him, letting him sink into his chair. Heaving a sigh, he tries again.
“Please -“
“I can’t!”
Jongin has never heard Junmyeon shout before, and the sound startles him. Immediately, he falls silent, waiting for Junmyeon to continue his tirade.
But all Junmyeon does is bury his face in his hands and visibly deflate.
“I can’t let him know that his sentence will be carried out tomorrow morning.”
“What? Why can’t you?” The room is suddenly too small for Jongin to breathe in. “Can’t you at least let him know that he’s going to die tomorrow? Would you rather have him spend his last night in oblivion instead of cherishing every hour?”
“From the moment the sentence is passed, they all know that this day is coming.”
“So you should tell him -“
“Convicts on death row are prepared to die every morning!” Junmyeon shouts back. “Each morning, they fear the sound of the guards’ footsteps, and each night, they go to sleep without knowing whether or not they’ll have a tomorrow. But Baekhyun -“ Junmyeon looks away, unable to bear looking at Jongin’s desolate face. “He was always the other way round.”
“What?”
“He was always relieved when morning came. And when he found out that his punishment wasn’t that day, he’d seek out and try to kill himself. But just recently,” Junmyeon takes off his glasses, wiping away at the tears that start to fall. “Just recently, Baekhyun told me that he was scared. Because seeing you made him want to live a little longer.”
It’s like someone has taken a knife and run it through Jongin’s head. In that instant, his mind goes blank and every feeling left in his heart is filled with a shooting pain. Unconsciously, he feels trails of wet on his cheeks, but he doesn’t bother to wipe them off.
“He’s scared, Jongin. And that’s why I can’t tell him.” Junmyeon turns back then, and brings a hand to Jongin’s shoulder. “He wants you to be able to live a normal life. So I think that the one person who should remember his smiling face is the one who changed him. Just you.”
“I have a wish I haven’t granted to him.” Jongin sobs out. “I need to fulfill it. Please.”
Every moment they’ve spent seems to pass by Jongin when he locks eyes with Junmyeon’s. Almost six months, the year’s not even out yet and he has to say goodbye.
Junmyeon simply nods his head, and turns away again.
÷
Morning resembles a spring day, the sunlight silently hoarding every dark space in Baekhyun’s space. For once the light on his face is a welcome guest, and he tilts his head a little to catch more of it, his eyes fluttering to a close. He almost doesn’t hear the gates of his cell being pried open, with a uniform-clad Junmyeon stepping in, accompanied by two other guards.
“Junmyeon? Why are you all -“ he stops. “Is it…”
“Mr .Kim Jongin would like to see you.” Junmyeon is avoiding eye contact, eyes cast downwards as if trying to hide behind the cap on his head. “He’s in the auditorium.”
“Auditorium?”
As he’s about to step outside, Junmyeon stops him with a soft hand and unlocks his handcuffs.
“What…?”
“You won’t be needing these.” Junmyeon’s smile is a little forlorn, and the Baekhyun then would have been relieved at his toned down happiness. Now he feels a sense of dread plaguing him. “It’s much better when you don’t have these on.”
“Why?”
Junmyeon pries the handcuffs off, but he still doesn’t look up. “I didn’t want to lie to you, and Jongin told me not to either.”
Everything clicks in Baekhyun’s head, with a flurry of panic, despondence and - and then nothing. Baekhyun feels nothing, then, as if he has gone haywire and his mind goes at rest.
So he does what he thinks is most appropriate. He stands back, and bows low - a full 90 degrees - to Junmyeon. Words fail him more often than not, and he knows his actions come across much better.
“Thank you. For everything.”
÷
The truth is, Baekhyun had been looking for Jongin all along. He had looked for Jongin in television screens, between the glossy pages of magazines, amongst the identical faces whipping past him in the trains. He looked for him in the club he used to work at, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of him somewhere in the crowd of people. He had been looking for someone like Jongin all this time - he just never realised who it is.
When he steps into the auditorium, everything makes sense.
Jongin stands on stage, wearing a neat, white suit with his hair slicked back, a blue handkerchief peeking out from his breast pocket. On his feet is a pair of dancing shoes, and his hands are folded neatly in front of him, as if expecting an audience. Or someone to get married to.
Jongin looks like he had jumped out of the picture he showed Baekhyun, on a day that seems so long ago. Baekhyun can’t help the tears that spill out of him, nor can he help letting out a laugh that sounds far, far too pained.
“You look beautiful.”
A pair of glassy but determined eyes lock onto his, making Baekhyun feel like he’s about to be swept off his feet any second. Behind Jongin, a big piano sits and Jongin gestures to him.
“Me?”
“Our last wishes.” Jongin reaches a hand out, and when Baekhyun grabs a hold of it he never wants to let go. “Let’s grant it together.”
Baekhyun hears Junmyeon shuffle out, and when Jongin is about to retract his hand Baekhyun tightens his grip, forcing them to face one another.
“I wish we met sooner.” Baekhyun cries out, letting the tears drip onto his shirt. Instinctively, Jongin reaches out to wipe it off, cradling his cheek. There’s no hesitation between them anymore. Everything is crystal clear, and everything fits in place. “At times, I wonder what it would have been like if we have met sooner - none of this would have happened, and -“
“If none of this had happened,” Another hand comes up to wipe at his tears. “We wouldn’t have met at all.”
Jongin’s lips are shaky on his cheek, and the contact only lasts for a few seconds that Baekhyun has to grip Jongin’s shoulder to remind himself that he’s not dreaming. He wants so much more, but the Jongin releases his hold on him and leads him to his seat.
“Play your best piece, prodigy.” His eyes are reassuring, and Baekhyun melts under his gaze. He nods.
Baekhyun’s first notes on the piano are shaky, weak and unsure from disuse. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and picturing Jongin with his suit in his mind, and plays again.
Muscle memory, his teacher had once told him. If you play the piece enough times, your fingers will remember forever. And the only thing Baekhyun can think of at the moment is how right he had been. The melody flows off as if it’s got a mind of its own, his fingers unfaltering in the way they move across the keys, remembering when to soften their touch and keeping every crescendo, every staccato intact.
What surprises him most, though, is that it’s a happy piece that he remembers most. Toccatina, uplifting despite its minor key, reflecting the moment perfectly. Knowing you’re going to die isn’t something very cheerful, but when Baekhyun casts a glance at Jongin he doesn’t want to be anywhere else. Jongin adapts so easily to the piece; how the moves seem to come to him as easily as the notes do to Baekhyun. The way his eyes close in concentration, letting himself get carried by the music is addicting, Baekhyun realises when he can’t tear his gaze away from his moving figure.
And suddenly Baekhyun realises he regrets everything he has done, from the moment he grabbed that umbrella to the moment he had accepted a death sentence, and maybe he regrets running away from his piano teacher, too. He regrets how he had been given Jongin, but he’s letting him slip through his fingers. He regrets not spending his time with Jongin better, not starting the standard Hello, how do you do? earlier. Not being able to ask Jongin to go out for coffee, to hold his hand, to hold him close when he cries, to stop his nightmares at night, to hear his quiet breathing beside him and not being able to care for Jongin the way he wants to.
His notes falter when Baekhyun’s fingers slip on to keys that jarr the music in an ear-splitting way. His mind panics, and he tries to continue but it repeats again - his fingers slipping, the tune broken, the off-key notes making him wince and from the corner of his eye he can see Jongin’s movement slowing down, hesitation laced in every step.
The black and white keys start to swim in his vision as Baekhyun’s breathing turns ragged, internal conflict pulling him out of what had been a happy trance. His notes slow down like they’re chained by metal handcuffs, his diminuendo inconsistent in the way that he abruptly turns quiet and stops. Jongin casts a worried look over his shoulder, and seeing his face Baekhyun makes his mind up.
Desperation makes you do crazy things. Sadness robs you of your rational mind.
Baekhyun grabs Jongin’s wrist and starts to run, bursting through the unlocked doors and pushing past the surprised guards. It’s nothing like running away from his piano teacher - he’s with Jongin now, and everything should be alright. The wind mussing up his hair feels good, making him laugh and he wants to laugh with Jongin, too.
Yet when he whips his head around with a grin, Jongin’s face is one of stricken horror. Then Baekhyun hears a cacophony of noises - a scream, a hysteric ’no!’, a gunshot. But all too soon everything goes black.
And the last thought that crosses Baekhyun’s mind is this -
He had never told Jongin he loved him.
A/N:
first of all thank you illegiblesigns for giving me this beautiful prompt with the manga! i kept some elements of it because they were too good to leave out. i hope i didn’t completely butcher your prompt ;uu;
many many thank yous to my tlist who probably had to scroll a through a lot of my baekfest rants. Special thanks to K, who put up with my whining and did not kill me for being so indecisive and being such a great motivator; C and S who responded to my really!urgent! messages for a beta and made this fic 30000x better. I LOVE YOU ALL
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