Countdown (part two)
Originally posted by adorableprince at Countdown (part two)
Title: Countdown (12k+)
Pairing: Kaisoo, minor Baekyeol
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, Tragedy
Length: Twoshot (2/2)
Summary: Jongin sees but doesn't see enough.
Jongin still sees the world in numbers but these numbers are of an entirely different sort. These numbers rip him apart and sew him back together again, tracing the red line of fate until Jongin doesn't know what it means to count, what it means to breathe if he's not breathing wide doe eyes and crescent smiles. And so Jongin falls into the mindless, unending thread of ones and twos and threes.
He documents it all, how Kyungsoo hiccups twice instead of just once. How there are five creases on the palm of Kyungsoo's left hand but only four on his right. How Kyungsoo's favorite number is eleven while his own is twenty. How it's October twelfth and a windy forty two degrees outside when they have their fifth kiss. Their sixth, seventh, and eighth kiss fall in between that very same day and the next, bordering between the twelfth and the thirteenth, as they walk aimlessly downtown at midnight, hands interlocked and feelings left unvoiced.
After that, the numbers blend together in a flurry of passion and quiet promises.
It takes fifty steps to stumble through the door and into Jongin's bedroom. Seven buttons and ten fumbling fingers separate Kyungsoo's milky expanse of skin from Jongin's prying eyes. When Jongin's tongue licks a fiery trail across Kyungsoo's jaw, Kyungsoo lets out one low keening noise that makes Jongin's heart skip three beats. It takes four seconds to fall onto the bed. It takes much less than that for Jongin to fall into denial, to lose himself in a fantasy that can never be.
But it only takes one lingering touch from the boy sprawled beneath him to snap him back to reality. Six butterfly kisses along the column of Kyungsoo's neck. Two matching pairs of fingernail scratches adorn Jongin's back. One minute before zippers are pulled and pants are thrown to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Two minutes before Jongin's lips wander south and Kyungsoo arches up, hands grasping the bed sheets beneath him when Jongin's mouth swallows him whole. Three minutes before pleas of hurry and whimpered cries of Jongin fill the air.
Four fumbled attempts to open the drawer on the night stand by his bed. Thirty five seconds for Jongin's world to shatter as he slips inside of Kyungsoo. One low guttural groan leaves the back of his throat. He feels oddly complete despite the pain because even in the dark, Kyungsoo's red numbered clock refuses to go away. While Jongin counts everything else, the breathy sighs and unforgettable hymns, he ignores the most obvious and glaring number of them all.
If Kyungsoo wonders why Jongin's eyes are screwed shut, he doesn't say anything, too busy collapsing in a jumble of breathless pants and rocking hips. When Jongin's eyes are closed, there are no more numbers, just the weight of Kyungsoo in his arms and the stretching of his heart as it opens even further. But then their vision blurs white and Jongin lets out one last groan followed by a wordless mewl from Kyungsoo and he's fluttering away only to plummet into free fall.
Kyungsoo curls into Jongin and falls asleep quickly. Jongin, on the other hand, does not get this luxury. He stays awake feeling infinitely small and helpless. He thought that by ignoring Kyungsoo's questioning eyes, the lingering thought of what are we exactly, maybe he could leave unscathed. That if there is no name to their relationship then there would be no regrets or pain or suffering to follow him when the hourglass inevitably runs out of sand. When people name things they grow attached and when it leaves, they cry just that much harder. But Jongin doesn't realize that relationships don't work like naming pets. Feelings don't need names, he can't address happiness with a hello or tell love a goodbye. Jongin refuses to believe in the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him.
Except he's wrong, so excruciatingly wrong.
Jongin is already attached and he knows that he's lying when he tells Chanyeol that he only likes Kyungsoo because the word that threatens to spill from his lips is another four letter word that is most definitely not like. Jongin presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until it hurts and spends the rest of the night holding onto Kyungsoo as if he can keep him there forever.
It's one o'clock on a Friday afternoon which means it's time for Kyungsoo to stop by the library and read to the children. Jongin doesn't want to tag along because, if he's honest with himself, children terrify him. They're small, loud, and unpredictable. They tear through rooms like an uncontrollable force of nature and Jongin can feel the oncoming headache just thinking about it. Kyungsoo has to roll his eyes to remind him that Jongin, you were once a child before he stops ranting.
Kyungsoo hides a laugh behind his hand. "Actually, you still sort of act like one."
"I do not," Jongin growls as he sends Kyungsoo a glare. "And I like to pretend that dark time in my life never happened."
Kyungsoo chuckles and pulls on Jongin's arm anyway. Jongin drags his feet along the sidewalk with every step but he knows that he would never have turned down the invitation despite his fear of children. Because saying no means that he has to let Kyungsoo out of his sight for longer than he wishes to, for a period of time where a number of disasters could happen, where Kyungsoo's already unbearably short time could become even shorter. Jongin shakes his head and tries not to think about it.
When the glass doors of the public library are pushed open, the familiar scent of worn books and yellowed pages rushes into his senses. It's been so long since he stepped foot in the university library let alone the public library downtown. The rows and rows of novels are an unwanted sight but he squashes down the nausea that it brings long enough to trod after Kyungsoo and into the children's section where a circle of hopeful eyes are already waiting.
Jongin shivers. There are so many of them.
He stands awkwardly to the side as Kyungsoo pulls a book off a shelf and sits down on a beanbag, the swarm of children inching closer as soon as he turns the first page. Jongin becomes engrossed in the way Kyungsoo's eyes twinkle, the way his voice fluctuates and dips low into valley basins and soars high over snow-capped crests. He amuses himself with watching Kyungsoo act out scenes that inspire laughter but he's so distracted that he doesn't notice the little girl until she's standing right next to him and pulling at his pant leg. Jongin jumps in surprise.
"Hello?" he awkwardly coughs.
She grins back at him all toothy and delighted. "Can you read me a story?"
"But Kyungsoo is already reading one."
"I've read that book. I want to hear another one," she pouts and Jongin internally flails for a couple seconds.
His eyes scan his surroundings as if an answer will jump out at him and Kyungsoo is too busy entertaining the small crowd of other kids to help. The little girl interprets the silence as a sign that Jongin won't read to her and her upper lip begins to tremble, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Jongin cringes in horror because the only thing worse than a child is a crying child.
"Look―I don't have a book, but I'll tell you a story, okay?" he whispers in panic as he kneels down. "Just don't cry, please don't cry."
The little girl nods and sniffles. "What's the story about?"
Jongin pauses because he really doesn't know. There is no story and he doesn't have a creative bone in his body but he needs to think of something fast before the little demon starts wailing. He racks his brain for ideas and then his eyes glance over to Kyungsoo, nervous heartbeats picking up and then stuttering to a low murmur. The words leave his mouth without a second thought.
"It's a story about a boy who tries to stop time."
"And does he?" the little girl whispers in awe. "Does he stop time?"
Jongin looks at her sadly. His eyes fill with repressed longing and dull aches. "I don't know, there's no ending yet."
It's a quiet night in fall when the skies are sprinkling rain and people are huddled in long coats. Jongin leans into Kyungsoo, tilting the umbrella more to the shorter boy's side even though Kyungsoo tells him it's not necessary. Jongin's right shoulder gets drenched but he doesn't care. He doesn't feel the cold as it tries to bite through his coat; instead he feels warm, so unbelievably warm. They're walking past an intersection when Kyungsoo spots something on the other side of the road and rushes over to it with wide eyes.
It's an injured cat.
"Kyungsoo!" Jongin yells, running after him with an umbrella that no longer serves its purpose. "What do you think you're doing!?!?"
"It's hurt," Kyungsoo points out as water drips down his now drenched hair and into his eyes.
"I can see that, but you can't just run through an intersection," he wheezes as the crippling fear slowly eases away, the memory of the car crash from so long ago painfully fresh and vivid in his mind.
He eyes the clock on top of the animal's head with a frown. It doesn't have much time.
"We should save it."
"There's no use."
"Of course there is," Kyungsoo exhales noisily as he shrugs out of his jacket so he can wrap it around the wounded cat. "I just need to get it somewhere dry."
"Kyungsoo, put your jacket back on."
"We can help―"
"No, you can't! It only has five seconds left!"
Jongin is breathing heavily, the weight of what he just said draping over him like a metal net. Kyungsoo stares at him in shock and nothing can be heard except for the constant pitter patter of rain against cement and the loud pounding of blood through Jongin's ears. Kyungsoo turns back around and counts to five in his head and then watches with an almost comical sense of disbelief when the cat's chest stops rising. He kneels there numb, the cat's death not registering until Jongin clamps his hand around Kyungsoo's wrist and pulls him to his feet.
The trip back to Kyungsoo's apartment is filled with silence and a suffocating layer of tension. Kyungsoo is sitting on his sofa, towel hanging around his neck and shivering hands running another towel over Jongin's soaked hair when he finally finds his voice again.
"How did you know?" he whispers.
Jongin lets out a shaky sigh. The voice that answers is agonizingly pained and tired. "I can see life clocks."
Kyungsoo pushes the towel off of Jongin's head so he can look into his eyes but Jongin shrinks away.
"You must think I'm insane," Jongin laughs mirthlessly.
"No, I don't. I believe you."
Jongin's head snaps around. "You believe me?"
"Why wouldn't I? You have no reason to lie."
Kyungsoo shoots him a tentative smile and it takes a few minutes before Jongin attempts to smile back. It still looks forced.
"Who else knows?" Kyungsoo gently questions as he sits down next to Jongin and leans onto his shoulder.
"Chanyeol."
"I guess that makes sense," Kyungsoo hums only to add a second later, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry―for what?"
"It must have been hard knowing something like that with no one to believe you."
Jongin feels himself crumble at the very words. It is so undeniably like Kyungsoo to apologize for something that he has no control over and yet those two words are exactly what he needed to hear. The heavy weight on his shoulders lightens slightly as he falls into the boy next to him, inhaling a heady mixture of rain and hope. But the hope vanishes just as quickly as it comes.
"Hey," Kyungsoo jokes in an attempt to brighten the mood. "How many years do I have left?"
Jongin freezes and breaks apart all over again. He hides his tearful expression in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck and clutches at the boy's shirt with all his might.
"A billion," Jongin chokes out.
Kyungsoo reaches over for Jongin's hand and chuckles. "That's great, we can grow old and wrinkly and be billion year old grandpas together."
Jongin offers him a watery smile and Kyungsoo beams back, not noticing that the smile doesn't quite reach Jongin's eyes.
Kyungsoo wakes up to the incessant buzzing of his phone. He fumbles around for it, one hand blindly reaching out toward his night stand as his eyes open blearily to read the bright Jongin flashing across the screen.
"Hello?" Kyungsoo croaks.
"I'm outside your apartment."
"Jongin, it's 4AM. What is with you and your habit of bothering me at ungodly hours," Kyungsoo groans into his pillow, phone pressed into his ear as he tries to stay awake.
"It's also a Saturday and there's no class tomorrow so get your ass up and let me in."
Kyungsoo gurgles incoherently for a good minute, the sound of laughter warm on the other end, effectively urging him out of the comfort of his bed.
"I'm coming," he yawns as he slips his feet into the slippers on the floor.
"By the way, when I said I was outside your apartment I didn't mean outside your door."
"Wait, what?"
Three sharp raps on the window ring throughout the room and Kyungsoo spins around in shock, his eyes drinking in the sight of a smirking Jongin sitting on the tree branch outside.
"Cute pajamas," Jongin chuckles from the other side of the glass.
"Are you insane," Kyungsoo splutters as he rushes over to push open his window, shivering as the chilly morning air wafts in uninvited.
Jongin stealthily slides into the room, black, graceful, and feline. Kyungsoo swallows because, even in sweatpants, Jongin's figure is long and lithe. His anxiety morphs into irritation when Jongin sprawls across his bed.
Jongin buries his head into Kyungsoo's pillow and opens one eye to peek up at the boy. "Let's play a game."
"You show up outside my window at 4am," Kyungsoo enunciates slowly, each word heavily laced with sarcasm. "Because you wanted to play a game."
Jongin ignores the look of disapproval and judgment, choosing instead to pull Kyungsoo down onto the bed so that Kyungsoo's back is facing him. He explains the rules without any sign of agreement.
"So I draw on your back with my fingers, and you try to guess what it is, okay?"
"Are you serious―"
"No turning around! That's cheating!"
Kyungsoo sighs but tries his best to sit still. Shivers run down his spine when Jongin's fingers teasingly draw lines across his back.
"You're not drawing anything yet."
"I'm trying to think, shut up."
The next half hour is filled with stolen glances and shy chuckles. Kyungsoo is undeniably ticklish but he can't say that Jongin's touch is unpleasant, if his furious blush and frantic heartbeats are any indication. Guesses dot the silence like stars in an inky black sky.
"A tree."
"A heart."
"A dog."
Kyungsoo hesitates during a particularly hard one. "Are you trying to draw Chanyeol?"
"Yeah, what gave it away? The curly hair?" Jongin snickers.
Kyungsoo turns around and this time Jongin lets him, pulling the smaller boy into the cage of his arms.
"No," Kyungsoo laughs with an eye smile. "It was the creepily wide mouth."
They both curl into each other, Jongin still tracing lazy patterns across Kyungsoo's hip, his fingers dipping into the sliver of skin underneath Kyungsoo's shirt in a way that makes Kyungsoo cling to him even tighter. Neither of them are talking but words aren't necessary, yet the questions that have been whirling inside of Kyungsoo's head refuse to subside. He figures that there will never be a right time to ask so it's now or never.
"When you say you can see life clocks, can you see your own?" he murmurs into the stillness.
Jongin tenses and lets out a haggard breath but he answers in the end. "No."
"Not even when you're looking in a mirror?"
Jongin shakes his head and Kyungsoo leans in to place a soft kiss against the jumping pulse under Jongin's jaw, hoping that it will calm him down. The entire conversation is so strange to Jongin. His ability to see makes him uncomfortable for more reasons than just the constant reminder that Kyungsoo is fading away. He's never talked about the intricacies of what seeing red numbers implies. No one has ever wanted to know, no one ever asked.
Even with Chanyeol, the conversations about his ability are exaggerated and awkward. There's a blanket of tension and Jongin can't help but think that somewhere in between the jilted words, Chanyeol is afraid of him. But with Kyungsoo, there is no fear just genuine interest and wonder.
Kyungsoo's slender fingers against his palm pull him out of his reverie. Jongin only hears the second half of the sentence but it's enough for him to understand what Kyungsoo is asking.
"―seen a person with a clock that's identical to someone else's? Like down to the last second?"
He thinks for awhile and responds, "I don't think I have."
Kyungsoo beams up at him, mirth jumping in his eyes. "But wouldn't that be sweet? Talk about fate."
"This isn't some trashy romance novel," Jongin answers with a laugh.
"I still think it would be sweet," Kyungsoo pouts.
Jongin merely hums in response, his fingers going back to outlining random thoughts and drawing patterns, this time on the small of Kyungsoo's back.
"Twenty one."
Jongin pauses as Kyungsoo mumbles the number into the nape of his neck. "What?"
"Isn't that the number you were drawing on my back? Did I guess right?"
Jongin pushes away as if he had been burned, eyes open in panic as a crippling sensation of fear seizes him by the throat and threatens to choke him. Kyungsoo stares at him in worry.
"Jongin?"
"We should sleep."
He doesn't say anything more and falls into the covers, turning to face the wall. Kyungsoo reluctantly slides into the pile of blankets next to Jongin, arms hanging awkwardly at his side until he decides to wrap them around Jongin's waist. The boy is unresponsive. Kyungsoo spends the rest of the early morning hours wondering what it was that he said wrong.
Chanyeol can't say he's never seen Jongin drunk before but as he walks into the living room, Jongin is clearly more than just drunk―he's utterly broken.
He approaches slowly like he would a skittish animal. It's only a few tentative steps in that Chanyeol notices the shattered glass spread across the ground and that Jongin's right hand is bleeding. The destroyed clock lies forgotten a few feet away. Chanyeol swears under his breath and dashes to Jongin's side, pulling him away from the mess and throwing Jongin into a chair by the kitchen table. He grabs the first aid kit from out of a cabinet and gets to work picking out shards and bandaging the cuts.
"You really need to stop breaking everything like this," Chanyeol mutters. "And fucking hell, why is it always glass."
Jongin remains quiet and when Chanyeol looks across the table, he can see the dirty streaks running down both cheeks where Jongin's tears have dried. When Jongin does choose to speak up, his voice is hoarse as if he's been yelling and his words slur together.
"Kyungsoo is visiting his parents."
Chanyeol doesn't know how to answer but it doesn't look like Jongin is looking for a response, continuing on in his one-sided conversation.
"Isn't that nice?" he laughs, but the sound is empty and hollow. "He should do that. Visiting his family is good. He should see them one last―"
Jongin's voice hitches at the word last and it's almost as if Chanyeol can hear the cracks splintering across his heart. Jongin is an incoherent clutter of drunken misery as he lashes out, bitter and unpredictable. Jongin tumbles and falls and plunges into varying degrees of despair until he's not sure he'll be able to get up again. Chanyeol guides the shell that has replaced his best friend back into his room, placing him under the covers and turning off the lights. There's nothing more that he can do for Jongin.
Chanyeol doesn't think there's anything that anyone can do for Jongin because time stops for no one. In the darkness of his room, Jongin clenches his bandaged fist so tightly that the cuts bleed through the white strips of cloth. It hurts but he welcomes any feeling that isn't the crushing sense of hopelessness that washes over him like an unending series of tidal waves. It reminds him that he's still alive.
Outside in the living room, Chanyeol sweeps up the glass and moves to throw the clock in the trash. When he lifts up the lid to the trash can, a badly mangled and torn up calendar is already sitting inside. Even in its annihilated state, the furious red circle around December 21st is visible.
When Kyungsoo returns from his weekend visit to his parent's house, he finds Jongin unusually depressed. There's an air of resignation about him that Kyungsoo can't put his finger on. Jongin looks like a man on death row, waiting for his execution. It's unsettling.
He's sitting on the carpet, listlessly picking at fraying strands of the pillow he's leaning against while he watches Jongin halfheartedly race Chanyeol in a videogame when his eyes wander around the room. They settle on the empty wall space above the TV where a clock used to be.
"What happened to your clock?"
"It broke," Jongin answers monotonously.
Jongin doesn't mention that the reason it broke was because he ran his fist through it.
"Oh," Kyungsoo mutters. "You should get another one, they're having a Christmas sale in a few weeks."
Chanyeol reaches over with lightning fast reflexes to grab the video game controller out of Jongin's hands before he can break that too. Kyungsoo takes in the entire exchange with furrowed brows but Chanyeol just offers a nervous chuckle in response. Jongin doesn't say a word.
"Actually, that's a great idea," Chanyeol coughs. "Instead of waiting for the Christmas sale why don't you guys go out and buy a new one now because clocks are important and we need them to be on time because being on time is great and―"
"You were never on time even when we had a clock."
"I was just trying to help," Chanyeol huffs while muttering under his breath, angry phrases that sound like colorful variations of Kim Jongin you are such a fucking asshole. "Anyway, I'm calling Baekhyun over so don't come back for at least another hour."
Jongin and Kyungsoo are unceremoniously shoved out the door as it slams in their faces.
"Park Chanyeol!" Jongin yells, pounding on the door in frustration.
"Just go buy a new damned clock!"
The sound of Chanyeol's exasperated reply is muffled but easily understandable. Kyungsoo doubles over in laughter and slips his hand into Jongin's while the taller boy continues to visibly fume.
"Hey, it's okay."
Jongin grunts noncommittally but allows himself to be pulled towards the nearest store. On the way, Kyungsoo occasionally turns around to look at him in contemplation and after the third time, Jongin finally decides to say something.
"What?"
"Are you mad at me?"
Jongin's breath leaves him in a loud exhale. He's mad at a lot of things. He's mad at the world, he's mad at time, he's mad at himself for being so powerless to change anything, but he could never be mad at Kyungsoo.
"No, of course not," he says, only then realizing that he's not very good at hiding his despair. He allows a smile to stretch across his face because that's how Jongin wants Kyungsoo to remember him. He wants to be remembered as the Jongin that has rediscovered happiness, the Jongin that has been pulled out of the dark waters of apathy by half moon smiles and cherry red lips.
The rest of the trip is considerably brighter.
"What kind of clock do you want?"
"I don't care, you can pick."
"Are you sure about that?"
Jongin nods because what could possibly go wrong with letting Kyungsoo pick out his clock. As it turns out, the answer is everything. Jongin is standing in an aisle with Kyungsoo's chosen clock held in both hands when he literally grimaces. He's sure that the old lady that passed by him gave him a questionable look and he honestly can't blame her.
"Kyungsoo, this is a Pororo clock."
"I know," Kyungsoo beams.
"The back of this says that's it's meant for seven year olds."
"No, it says seven and up. You can be the up part."
Jongin sighs and walks to the cashier without protest because he can't say no to Kyungsoo and his imploring eyes, even if it means he has to swallow his dignity and accept that his sort-of-boyfriend has a strange cartoon obsession. Later that night, Jongin hangs the new clock in his room instead of outside in the living room. He purposely takes the batteries out and leaves the clock as it is, the seconds frozen, the minutes suspended, the hours stuck in a limbo of immobility.
Jongin's mouth quirks up in a heartbreaking smile.
He stopped time.
December 16th.
Jongin skips class even though his final project is due.
December 17th.
It's the last day of class and Jongin turns his project in one day late. His professor pulls him aside very angrily and lectures him about getting his priorities straight. Jongin knows that he does have his priorities in order. Kyungsoo is his priority. But he doesn't say that, instead he tells his teacher that he didn't have enough time. The flustered man glares at him and tells him that you always have enough time if you plan for it.
Jongin laughs cynically because that's not true at all.
December 18th.
Chanyeol and Baekhyun insist on throwing a party because it's finally break. Jongin knows that 'throwing a party' really means his apartment is going to be trashed but Kyungsoo is excited, he's never been to a party before. In the end, Jongin says yes but throughout the night he can't shake the thought that this isn't so much a celebration as it is a farewell.
December 19th.
They buy a Christmas tree and spend an entire day decorating it with an assortment of ornaments and tinsel that sheds glitter everywhere. Jongin is heavily chastised by Kyungsoo because of his lack of artistic creativity and repeatedly called a colorblind bat. Jongin has never been happier.
December 20th.
One more day. Jongin feels numb. He's not ready for this. He's not ready for it to be over. He's not ready to say goodbye. Kyungsoo can sense that something is wrong but Jongin only tells him that he had a nightmare. But this nightmare is all too real and almost tangible enough for Jongin to touch. It reveals itself in the soft creases of Kyungsoo's eyes, in the faint pink that spots the apple of Kyungsoo's cheeks. It's a heaven that Jongin has been led to believe can be his forever only to have it cruelly torn away.
Jongin considers breaking down and telling Kyungsoo because maybe he deserves to know. But then he takes one look at himself in the mirror, a portrait of dark shadows and sunken cheekbones and he knows that people aren't meant to know when they die. The knowledge seeps into his soul and plants a disastrous seed of omnipotent grief. He is the keeper of a secret that he should never have been told. If there's one thing he can do for Kyungsoo, it's to save him from the same desolation.
"Let's stay in tomorrow," Jongin whispers in the darkness of the room, arms wrapped around the one person he can't live without.
"Why?"
"I can't stand how busy the streets get because of last minute Christmas shopping," he lies.
Kyungsoo hums his agreement into Jongin's skin, hot breath fanning across his ear and drifts into sleep. Jongin tries to stay awake for as long as he can, not wanting to miss a single second of the time that is already dwindling away. Eventually his eyelids grow too heavy for him to keep open and he gives in to the dusk.
Jongin jolts awake to an empty bed and a cold pillow, disoriented and groggy because he can't remember falling asleep. Terror seizes his heart as his breathing quickly spins out of control. People don't die like this. They don't just disappear in the middle of the night while their bodies vanish as if they never existed in the first place. Jongin throws the covers off in a tumultuous flurry of thrashing limbs and then a piece of paper crumples beneath his palm.
I've gone out to buy some groceries! We'll need food if we're going to stay in all day. Didn't want to wake you. Call me if you feel like eating something in particular.
Jongin dashes for his phone and pushes at the numbers with trembling fingers, his mind a mess of numbers and calculated questions of how much time does he have left?
"Kyungsoo!" he shouts as the call finally goes through and his entire body almost convulses at the sound of Kyungsoo's voice on the other end.
"Good morning! Did you want me to cook―"
"What part of we should stay in tomorrow didn't you understand!?!"
"I just went out to get some food."
Jongin can hear the frown even if he's not there to see it but he's too busy panicking.
"Look, just stay where you are―don't move. I'm coming to get you."
He doesn't even bother to change out of his sweats before he's hurtling out the door and down the street, running like his life depended on it towards the supermarket a couple blocks away. In a way, his life does depend on it. By the time the supermarket comes into view, he can already see Kyungsoo shifting back and forth under the red awning of the entrance. Jongin barrels into him, a chaotic and sweaty wreck.
"You scared me," Jongin wheezes, eyes closed tightly.
"I was only gone for an hour," Kyungsoo answers confused.
Jongin pulls back and does a quick but subtle check for injuries, any sign that something is out of place before his eyes dart frantically around, taking in the surroundings and the myriad of situations that could be the reason for Kyungsoo's death. During the entire ordeal, Jongin notices that the red numbers have not stopped counting down, there are only a matter of minutes left.
"Jongin, what's wrong?"
Jongin grabs Kyungsoo and starts pulling him back in the direction of his apartment, deciding to stay away from the main street where a car could easily be the dreaded answer to Kyungsoo's time. The side streets would be much safer, no careening metal death traps waiting to crash into the helpless boy beside him.
"I'll explain later."
He won't but he'll say anything at this point for Kyungsoo to listen to him and comply. The faster they can get back home, the safer he will be. Kyungsoo is stumbling behind Jongin, plastic bags rustling as they bump against his legs, when they pass by a back alley and the shouting first registers, shouting followed by a pleading scream. Jongin is suddenly tugging but they're not moving forward because Kyungsoo has stopped, bags dropped to the ground as he peers into the shadowed alley and sees an elderly woman being mugged.
Everything happens in slow motion.
It's a cacophony of noise. Kyungsoo yells out for the burglar to stop, Jongin's blood is racing through his veins as he curses Kyungsoo's unwavering need to be the good samaritan, and then there's a glint of metal reflected in the sunlight that Jongin spots a second too late. Suddenly, he's running and pushing and his voice leaves his throat in a hoarse cry because he knows. This is how it will end.
Two shots are fired.
Red blooms across a canvas of pale white.
The gunman bolts in fear.
The old lady won't stop screaming as she dials for an ambulance.
Jongin falls to the ground first, staring in shock as he presses his hand against the gunshot wound in his chest. This doesn't make sense, this isn't what he thought would happen and he's gasping for air as his lungs fill with blood. He flips on his side and sees Kyungsoo curled up in a ball just a few feet away, a matching red carnation blossoming near his heart. It finally registers to him. Two shots. Through the haze, Jongin crawls his way over to the fallen boy, fingers digging into gravel and fingers soaked in crimson.
"Kyungsoo," he groans, hand outstretched.
Kyungsoo can only manage a pained whimper as his tear-filled eyes look at Jongin when he collapses in a heap beside him.
"J-jongin?" Kyungsoo splutters as a steady stream of blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth. "Why?"
Jongin's shaking hand latches on to Kyungsoo's wrist, rubbing soothing circles along his slowly dropping pulse point as he coughs and more blood stains the ground.
"I'm sorry, I lied. You didn't have a billion years," he chokes. "But I guess, I didn't either."
Kyungsoo's fingers clench into Jongin's stained white shirt and he cries, it's a mixture of pain and sorrow over the tomorrows that will never come and the kisses that will never happen. All the longing and wistful stares, all of the agonizingly sad looks, everything makes sense to him now.
"You knew. All along, you knew."
"Yeah."
Kyungsoo whimpers again.
"Are you scared?" Jongin whispers, his words are broken and it takes him too long to utter just those three words.
"A little," Kyungsoo breathes heavily as he loses feeling in his lower body.
"You don't have to be scared, you're probably going to heaven."
Kyungsoo tries to laugh but the sound that leaves his throat is more of a strangled gurgle. "Are you coming with me?"
"I would make a shitty angel."
It's getting harder and harder to breathe, it's even more difficult to force the words off of his heavy tongue. Jongin closes his eyes to try and collect his thoughts. He wonders if this is how it was meant to be from the very beginning, if his time was up the minute he laid eyes on the boy with the short hair and big eyes in Chanyeol's Music History class.
00:00:00:00:00:10
Jongin opens his eyes again.
00:00:00:00:00:09
Kyungsoo clings feebly to Jongin
00:00:00:00:00:08
Jongin smiles.
00:00:00:00:00:07
Kyungsoo's lips quiver as he tries to smile back.
00:00:00:00:00:06
The sound of sirens pierce the air but both of them know it's too late.
00:00:00:00:00:05
Jongin tries to say see you soon but the only thing that leaves his mouth is more blood.
00:00:00:00:00:04
Kyungsoo squeezes Jongin's hand and tells him with his eyes that it's okay, I know.
They both close their eyes and this time neither of them have the power to open them again, struggling through a river of lethargy, their heads submerged and unable to swim to the surface. The countdown begins, two clocks that are perfectly identical, perfectly in sync.
00:00:00:00:00:03
00:00:00:00:00:02
00:00:00:00:00:01
Somewhere in a parallel universe a story is being told. A story about a boy who could see red numbers. A story about a boy stuck in complacency until another boy shows up to save him. A story of smiles and laughter and tears and pain. A story that ends.
00:00:00:00:00:00
A/N: I couldn't have done this without Lauren's help and the encouragement of skype group. ;_____; Thank you all so much. P.S. In the process of editing on google docs, we discovered that google is an Infinite stan.
Title: Countdown (12k+)
Pairing: Kaisoo, minor Baekyeol
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, Tragedy
Length: Twoshot (2/2)
Summary: Jongin sees but doesn't see enough.
Jongin still sees the world in numbers but these numbers are of an entirely different sort. These numbers rip him apart and sew him back together again, tracing the red line of fate until Jongin doesn't know what it means to count, what it means to breathe if he's not breathing wide doe eyes and crescent smiles. And so Jongin falls into the mindless, unending thread of ones and twos and threes.
He documents it all, how Kyungsoo hiccups twice instead of just once. How there are five creases on the palm of Kyungsoo's left hand but only four on his right. How Kyungsoo's favorite number is eleven while his own is twenty. How it's October twelfth and a windy forty two degrees outside when they have their fifth kiss. Their sixth, seventh, and eighth kiss fall in between that very same day and the next, bordering between the twelfth and the thirteenth, as they walk aimlessly downtown at midnight, hands interlocked and feelings left unvoiced.
After that, the numbers blend together in a flurry of passion and quiet promises.
It takes fifty steps to stumble through the door and into Jongin's bedroom. Seven buttons and ten fumbling fingers separate Kyungsoo's milky expanse of skin from Jongin's prying eyes. When Jongin's tongue licks a fiery trail across Kyungsoo's jaw, Kyungsoo lets out one low keening noise that makes Jongin's heart skip three beats. It takes four seconds to fall onto the bed. It takes much less than that for Jongin to fall into denial, to lose himself in a fantasy that can never be.
But it only takes one lingering touch from the boy sprawled beneath him to snap him back to reality. Six butterfly kisses along the column of Kyungsoo's neck. Two matching pairs of fingernail scratches adorn Jongin's back. One minute before zippers are pulled and pants are thrown to join the pile of clothes on the floor. Two minutes before Jongin's lips wander south and Kyungsoo arches up, hands grasping the bed sheets beneath him when Jongin's mouth swallows him whole. Three minutes before pleas of hurry and whimpered cries of Jongin fill the air.
Four fumbled attempts to open the drawer on the night stand by his bed. Thirty five seconds for Jongin's world to shatter as he slips inside of Kyungsoo. One low guttural groan leaves the back of his throat. He feels oddly complete despite the pain because even in the dark, Kyungsoo's red numbered clock refuses to go away. While Jongin counts everything else, the breathy sighs and unforgettable hymns, he ignores the most obvious and glaring number of them all.
If Kyungsoo wonders why Jongin's eyes are screwed shut, he doesn't say anything, too busy collapsing in a jumble of breathless pants and rocking hips. When Jongin's eyes are closed, there are no more numbers, just the weight of Kyungsoo in his arms and the stretching of his heart as it opens even further. But then their vision blurs white and Jongin lets out one last groan followed by a wordless mewl from Kyungsoo and he's fluttering away only to plummet into free fall.
Kyungsoo curls into Jongin and falls asleep quickly. Jongin, on the other hand, does not get this luxury. He stays awake feeling infinitely small and helpless. He thought that by ignoring Kyungsoo's questioning eyes, the lingering thought of what are we exactly, maybe he could leave unscathed. That if there is no name to their relationship then there would be no regrets or pain or suffering to follow him when the hourglass inevitably runs out of sand. When people name things they grow attached and when it leaves, they cry just that much harder. But Jongin doesn't realize that relationships don't work like naming pets. Feelings don't need names, he can't address happiness with a hello or tell love a goodbye. Jongin refuses to believe in the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him.
Except he's wrong, so excruciatingly wrong.
Jongin is already attached and he knows that he's lying when he tells Chanyeol that he only likes Kyungsoo because the word that threatens to spill from his lips is another four letter word that is most definitely not like. Jongin presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until it hurts and spends the rest of the night holding onto Kyungsoo as if he can keep him there forever.
It's one o'clock on a Friday afternoon which means it's time for Kyungsoo to stop by the library and read to the children. Jongin doesn't want to tag along because, if he's honest with himself, children terrify him. They're small, loud, and unpredictable. They tear through rooms like an uncontrollable force of nature and Jongin can feel the oncoming headache just thinking about it. Kyungsoo has to roll his eyes to remind him that Jongin, you were once a child before he stops ranting.
Kyungsoo hides a laugh behind his hand. "Actually, you still sort of act like one."
"I do not," Jongin growls as he sends Kyungsoo a glare. "And I like to pretend that dark time in my life never happened."
Kyungsoo chuckles and pulls on Jongin's arm anyway. Jongin drags his feet along the sidewalk with every step but he knows that he would never have turned down the invitation despite his fear of children. Because saying no means that he has to let Kyungsoo out of his sight for longer than he wishes to, for a period of time where a number of disasters could happen, where Kyungsoo's already unbearably short time could become even shorter. Jongin shakes his head and tries not to think about it.
When the glass doors of the public library are pushed open, the familiar scent of worn books and yellowed pages rushes into his senses. It's been so long since he stepped foot in the university library let alone the public library downtown. The rows and rows of novels are an unwanted sight but he squashes down the nausea that it brings long enough to trod after Kyungsoo and into the children's section where a circle of hopeful eyes are already waiting.
Jongin shivers. There are so many of them.
He stands awkwardly to the side as Kyungsoo pulls a book off a shelf and sits down on a beanbag, the swarm of children inching closer as soon as he turns the first page. Jongin becomes engrossed in the way Kyungsoo's eyes twinkle, the way his voice fluctuates and dips low into valley basins and soars high over snow-capped crests. He amuses himself with watching Kyungsoo act out scenes that inspire laughter but he's so distracted that he doesn't notice the little girl until she's standing right next to him and pulling at his pant leg. Jongin jumps in surprise.
"Hello?" he awkwardly coughs.
She grins back at him all toothy and delighted. "Can you read me a story?"
"But Kyungsoo is already reading one."
"I've read that book. I want to hear another one," she pouts and Jongin internally flails for a couple seconds.
His eyes scan his surroundings as if an answer will jump out at him and Kyungsoo is too busy entertaining the small crowd of other kids to help. The little girl interprets the silence as a sign that Jongin won't read to her and her upper lip begins to tremble, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Jongin cringes in horror because the only thing worse than a child is a crying child.
"Look―I don't have a book, but I'll tell you a story, okay?" he whispers in panic as he kneels down. "Just don't cry, please don't cry."
The little girl nods and sniffles. "What's the story about?"
Jongin pauses because he really doesn't know. There is no story and he doesn't have a creative bone in his body but he needs to think of something fast before the little demon starts wailing. He racks his brain for ideas and then his eyes glance over to Kyungsoo, nervous heartbeats picking up and then stuttering to a low murmur. The words leave his mouth without a second thought.
"It's a story about a boy who tries to stop time."
"And does he?" the little girl whispers in awe. "Does he stop time?"
Jongin looks at her sadly. His eyes fill with repressed longing and dull aches. "I don't know, there's no ending yet."
It's a quiet night in fall when the skies are sprinkling rain and people are huddled in long coats. Jongin leans into Kyungsoo, tilting the umbrella more to the shorter boy's side even though Kyungsoo tells him it's not necessary. Jongin's right shoulder gets drenched but he doesn't care. He doesn't feel the cold as it tries to bite through his coat; instead he feels warm, so unbelievably warm. They're walking past an intersection when Kyungsoo spots something on the other side of the road and rushes over to it with wide eyes.
It's an injured cat.
"Kyungsoo!" Jongin yells, running after him with an umbrella that no longer serves its purpose. "What do you think you're doing!?!?"
"It's hurt," Kyungsoo points out as water drips down his now drenched hair and into his eyes.
"I can see that, but you can't just run through an intersection," he wheezes as the crippling fear slowly eases away, the memory of the car crash from so long ago painfully fresh and vivid in his mind.
He eyes the clock on top of the animal's head with a frown. It doesn't have much time.
"We should save it."
"There's no use."
"Of course there is," Kyungsoo exhales noisily as he shrugs out of his jacket so he can wrap it around the wounded cat. "I just need to get it somewhere dry."
"Kyungsoo, put your jacket back on."
"We can help―"
"No, you can't! It only has five seconds left!"
Jongin is breathing heavily, the weight of what he just said draping over him like a metal net. Kyungsoo stares at him in shock and nothing can be heard except for the constant pitter patter of rain against cement and the loud pounding of blood through Jongin's ears. Kyungsoo turns back around and counts to five in his head and then watches with an almost comical sense of disbelief when the cat's chest stops rising. He kneels there numb, the cat's death not registering until Jongin clamps his hand around Kyungsoo's wrist and pulls him to his feet.
The trip back to Kyungsoo's apartment is filled with silence and a suffocating layer of tension. Kyungsoo is sitting on his sofa, towel hanging around his neck and shivering hands running another towel over Jongin's soaked hair when he finally finds his voice again.
"How did you know?" he whispers.
Jongin lets out a shaky sigh. The voice that answers is agonizingly pained and tired. "I can see life clocks."
Kyungsoo pushes the towel off of Jongin's head so he can look into his eyes but Jongin shrinks away.
"You must think I'm insane," Jongin laughs mirthlessly.
"No, I don't. I believe you."
Jongin's head snaps around. "You believe me?"
"Why wouldn't I? You have no reason to lie."
Kyungsoo shoots him a tentative smile and it takes a few minutes before Jongin attempts to smile back. It still looks forced.
"Who else knows?" Kyungsoo gently questions as he sits down next to Jongin and leans onto his shoulder.
"Chanyeol."
"I guess that makes sense," Kyungsoo hums only to add a second later, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry―for what?"
"It must have been hard knowing something like that with no one to believe you."
Jongin feels himself crumble at the very words. It is so undeniably like Kyungsoo to apologize for something that he has no control over and yet those two words are exactly what he needed to hear. The heavy weight on his shoulders lightens slightly as he falls into the boy next to him, inhaling a heady mixture of rain and hope. But the hope vanishes just as quickly as it comes.
"Hey," Kyungsoo jokes in an attempt to brighten the mood. "How many years do I have left?"
Jongin freezes and breaks apart all over again. He hides his tearful expression in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck and clutches at the boy's shirt with all his might.
"A billion," Jongin chokes out.
Kyungsoo reaches over for Jongin's hand and chuckles. "That's great, we can grow old and wrinkly and be billion year old grandpas together."
Jongin offers him a watery smile and Kyungsoo beams back, not noticing that the smile doesn't quite reach Jongin's eyes.
Kyungsoo wakes up to the incessant buzzing of his phone. He fumbles around for it, one hand blindly reaching out toward his night stand as his eyes open blearily to read the bright Jongin flashing across the screen.
"Hello?" Kyungsoo croaks.
"I'm outside your apartment."
"Jongin, it's 4AM. What is with you and your habit of bothering me at ungodly hours," Kyungsoo groans into his pillow, phone pressed into his ear as he tries to stay awake.
"It's also a Saturday and there's no class tomorrow so get your ass up and let me in."
Kyungsoo gurgles incoherently for a good minute, the sound of laughter warm on the other end, effectively urging him out of the comfort of his bed.
"I'm coming," he yawns as he slips his feet into the slippers on the floor.
"By the way, when I said I was outside your apartment I didn't mean outside your door."
"Wait, what?"
Three sharp raps on the window ring throughout the room and Kyungsoo spins around in shock, his eyes drinking in the sight of a smirking Jongin sitting on the tree branch outside.
"Cute pajamas," Jongin chuckles from the other side of the glass.
"Are you insane," Kyungsoo splutters as he rushes over to push open his window, shivering as the chilly morning air wafts in uninvited.
Jongin stealthily slides into the room, black, graceful, and feline. Kyungsoo swallows because, even in sweatpants, Jongin's figure is long and lithe. His anxiety morphs into irritation when Jongin sprawls across his bed.
Jongin buries his head into Kyungsoo's pillow and opens one eye to peek up at the boy. "Let's play a game."
"You show up outside my window at 4am," Kyungsoo enunciates slowly, each word heavily laced with sarcasm. "Because you wanted to play a game."
Jongin ignores the look of disapproval and judgment, choosing instead to pull Kyungsoo down onto the bed so that Kyungsoo's back is facing him. He explains the rules without any sign of agreement.
"So I draw on your back with my fingers, and you try to guess what it is, okay?"
"Are you serious―"
"No turning around! That's cheating!"
Kyungsoo sighs but tries his best to sit still. Shivers run down his spine when Jongin's fingers teasingly draw lines across his back.
"You're not drawing anything yet."
"I'm trying to think, shut up."
The next half hour is filled with stolen glances and shy chuckles. Kyungsoo is undeniably ticklish but he can't say that Jongin's touch is unpleasant, if his furious blush and frantic heartbeats are any indication. Guesses dot the silence like stars in an inky black sky.
"A tree."
"A heart."
"A dog."
Kyungsoo hesitates during a particularly hard one. "Are you trying to draw Chanyeol?"
"Yeah, what gave it away? The curly hair?" Jongin snickers.
Kyungsoo turns around and this time Jongin lets him, pulling the smaller boy into the cage of his arms.
"No," Kyungsoo laughs with an eye smile. "It was the creepily wide mouth."
They both curl into each other, Jongin still tracing lazy patterns across Kyungsoo's hip, his fingers dipping into the sliver of skin underneath Kyungsoo's shirt in a way that makes Kyungsoo cling to him even tighter. Neither of them are talking but words aren't necessary, yet the questions that have been whirling inside of Kyungsoo's head refuse to subside. He figures that there will never be a right time to ask so it's now or never.
"When you say you can see life clocks, can you see your own?" he murmurs into the stillness.
Jongin tenses and lets out a haggard breath but he answers in the end. "No."
"Not even when you're looking in a mirror?"
Jongin shakes his head and Kyungsoo leans in to place a soft kiss against the jumping pulse under Jongin's jaw, hoping that it will calm him down. The entire conversation is so strange to Jongin. His ability to see makes him uncomfortable for more reasons than just the constant reminder that Kyungsoo is fading away. He's never talked about the intricacies of what seeing red numbers implies. No one has ever wanted to know, no one ever asked.
Even with Chanyeol, the conversations about his ability are exaggerated and awkward. There's a blanket of tension and Jongin can't help but think that somewhere in between the jilted words, Chanyeol is afraid of him. But with Kyungsoo, there is no fear just genuine interest and wonder.
Kyungsoo's slender fingers against his palm pull him out of his reverie. Jongin only hears the second half of the sentence but it's enough for him to understand what Kyungsoo is asking.
"―seen a person with a clock that's identical to someone else's? Like down to the last second?"
He thinks for awhile and responds, "I don't think I have."
Kyungsoo beams up at him, mirth jumping in his eyes. "But wouldn't that be sweet? Talk about fate."
"This isn't some trashy romance novel," Jongin answers with a laugh.
"I still think it would be sweet," Kyungsoo pouts.
Jongin merely hums in response, his fingers going back to outlining random thoughts and drawing patterns, this time on the small of Kyungsoo's back.
"Twenty one."
Jongin pauses as Kyungsoo mumbles the number into the nape of his neck. "What?"
"Isn't that the number you were drawing on my back? Did I guess right?"
Jongin pushes away as if he had been burned, eyes open in panic as a crippling sensation of fear seizes him by the throat and threatens to choke him. Kyungsoo stares at him in worry.
"Jongin?"
"We should sleep."
He doesn't say anything more and falls into the covers, turning to face the wall. Kyungsoo reluctantly slides into the pile of blankets next to Jongin, arms hanging awkwardly at his side until he decides to wrap them around Jongin's waist. The boy is unresponsive. Kyungsoo spends the rest of the early morning hours wondering what it was that he said wrong.
Chanyeol can't say he's never seen Jongin drunk before but as he walks into the living room, Jongin is clearly more than just drunk―he's utterly broken.
He approaches slowly like he would a skittish animal. It's only a few tentative steps in that Chanyeol notices the shattered glass spread across the ground and that Jongin's right hand is bleeding. The destroyed clock lies forgotten a few feet away. Chanyeol swears under his breath and dashes to Jongin's side, pulling him away from the mess and throwing Jongin into a chair by the kitchen table. He grabs the first aid kit from out of a cabinet and gets to work picking out shards and bandaging the cuts.
"You really need to stop breaking everything like this," Chanyeol mutters. "And fucking hell, why is it always glass."
Jongin remains quiet and when Chanyeol looks across the table, he can see the dirty streaks running down both cheeks where Jongin's tears have dried. When Jongin does choose to speak up, his voice is hoarse as if he's been yelling and his words slur together.
"Kyungsoo is visiting his parents."
Chanyeol doesn't know how to answer but it doesn't look like Jongin is looking for a response, continuing on in his one-sided conversation.
"Isn't that nice?" he laughs, but the sound is empty and hollow. "He should do that. Visiting his family is good. He should see them one last―"
Jongin's voice hitches at the word last and it's almost as if Chanyeol can hear the cracks splintering across his heart. Jongin is an incoherent clutter of drunken misery as he lashes out, bitter and unpredictable. Jongin tumbles and falls and plunges into varying degrees of despair until he's not sure he'll be able to get up again. Chanyeol guides the shell that has replaced his best friend back into his room, placing him under the covers and turning off the lights. There's nothing more that he can do for Jongin.
Chanyeol doesn't think there's anything that anyone can do for Jongin because time stops for no one. In the darkness of his room, Jongin clenches his bandaged fist so tightly that the cuts bleed through the white strips of cloth. It hurts but he welcomes any feeling that isn't the crushing sense of hopelessness that washes over him like an unending series of tidal waves. It reminds him that he's still alive.
Outside in the living room, Chanyeol sweeps up the glass and moves to throw the clock in the trash. When he lifts up the lid to the trash can, a badly mangled and torn up calendar is already sitting inside. Even in its annihilated state, the furious red circle around December 21st is visible.
When Kyungsoo returns from his weekend visit to his parent's house, he finds Jongin unusually depressed. There's an air of resignation about him that Kyungsoo can't put his finger on. Jongin looks like a man on death row, waiting for his execution. It's unsettling.
He's sitting on the carpet, listlessly picking at fraying strands of the pillow he's leaning against while he watches Jongin halfheartedly race Chanyeol in a videogame when his eyes wander around the room. They settle on the empty wall space above the TV where a clock used to be.
"What happened to your clock?"
"It broke," Jongin answers monotonously.
Jongin doesn't mention that the reason it broke was because he ran his fist through it.
"Oh," Kyungsoo mutters. "You should get another one, they're having a Christmas sale in a few weeks."
Chanyeol reaches over with lightning fast reflexes to grab the video game controller out of Jongin's hands before he can break that too. Kyungsoo takes in the entire exchange with furrowed brows but Chanyeol just offers a nervous chuckle in response. Jongin doesn't say a word.
"Actually, that's a great idea," Chanyeol coughs. "Instead of waiting for the Christmas sale why don't you guys go out and buy a new one now because clocks are important and we need them to be on time because being on time is great and―"
"You were never on time even when we had a clock."
"I was just trying to help," Chanyeol huffs while muttering under his breath, angry phrases that sound like colorful variations of Kim Jongin you are such a fucking asshole. "Anyway, I'm calling Baekhyun over so don't come back for at least another hour."
Jongin and Kyungsoo are unceremoniously shoved out the door as it slams in their faces.
"Park Chanyeol!" Jongin yells, pounding on the door in frustration.
"Just go buy a new damned clock!"
The sound of Chanyeol's exasperated reply is muffled but easily understandable. Kyungsoo doubles over in laughter and slips his hand into Jongin's while the taller boy continues to visibly fume.
"Hey, it's okay."
Jongin grunts noncommittally but allows himself to be pulled towards the nearest store. On the way, Kyungsoo occasionally turns around to look at him in contemplation and after the third time, Jongin finally decides to say something.
"What?"
"Are you mad at me?"
Jongin's breath leaves him in a loud exhale. He's mad at a lot of things. He's mad at the world, he's mad at time, he's mad at himself for being so powerless to change anything, but he could never be mad at Kyungsoo.
"No, of course not," he says, only then realizing that he's not very good at hiding his despair. He allows a smile to stretch across his face because that's how Jongin wants Kyungsoo to remember him. He wants to be remembered as the Jongin that has rediscovered happiness, the Jongin that has been pulled out of the dark waters of apathy by half moon smiles and cherry red lips.
The rest of the trip is considerably brighter.
"What kind of clock do you want?"
"I don't care, you can pick."
"Are you sure about that?"
Jongin nods because what could possibly go wrong with letting Kyungsoo pick out his clock. As it turns out, the answer is everything. Jongin is standing in an aisle with Kyungsoo's chosen clock held in both hands when he literally grimaces. He's sure that the old lady that passed by him gave him a questionable look and he honestly can't blame her.
"Kyungsoo, this is a Pororo clock."
"I know," Kyungsoo beams.
"The back of this says that's it's meant for seven year olds."
"No, it says seven and up. You can be the up part."
Jongin sighs and walks to the cashier without protest because he can't say no to Kyungsoo and his imploring eyes, even if it means he has to swallow his dignity and accept that his sort-of-boyfriend has a strange cartoon obsession. Later that night, Jongin hangs the new clock in his room instead of outside in the living room. He purposely takes the batteries out and leaves the clock as it is, the seconds frozen, the minutes suspended, the hours stuck in a limbo of immobility.
Jongin's mouth quirks up in a heartbreaking smile.
He stopped time.
December 16th.
Jongin skips class even though his final project is due.
December 17th.
It's the last day of class and Jongin turns his project in one day late. His professor pulls him aside very angrily and lectures him about getting his priorities straight. Jongin knows that he does have his priorities in order. Kyungsoo is his priority. But he doesn't say that, instead he tells his teacher that he didn't have enough time. The flustered man glares at him and tells him that you always have enough time if you plan for it.
Jongin laughs cynically because that's not true at all.
December 18th.
Chanyeol and Baekhyun insist on throwing a party because it's finally break. Jongin knows that 'throwing a party' really means his apartment is going to be trashed but Kyungsoo is excited, he's never been to a party before. In the end, Jongin says yes but throughout the night he can't shake the thought that this isn't so much a celebration as it is a farewell.
December 19th.
They buy a Christmas tree and spend an entire day decorating it with an assortment of ornaments and tinsel that sheds glitter everywhere. Jongin is heavily chastised by Kyungsoo because of his lack of artistic creativity and repeatedly called a colorblind bat. Jongin has never been happier.
December 20th.
One more day. Jongin feels numb. He's not ready for this. He's not ready for it to be over. He's not ready to say goodbye. Kyungsoo can sense that something is wrong but Jongin only tells him that he had a nightmare. But this nightmare is all too real and almost tangible enough for Jongin to touch. It reveals itself in the soft creases of Kyungsoo's eyes, in the faint pink that spots the apple of Kyungsoo's cheeks. It's a heaven that Jongin has been led to believe can be his forever only to have it cruelly torn away.
Jongin considers breaking down and telling Kyungsoo because maybe he deserves to know. But then he takes one look at himself in the mirror, a portrait of dark shadows and sunken cheekbones and he knows that people aren't meant to know when they die. The knowledge seeps into his soul and plants a disastrous seed of omnipotent grief. He is the keeper of a secret that he should never have been told. If there's one thing he can do for Kyungsoo, it's to save him from the same desolation.
"Let's stay in tomorrow," Jongin whispers in the darkness of the room, arms wrapped around the one person he can't live without.
"Why?"
"I can't stand how busy the streets get because of last minute Christmas shopping," he lies.
Kyungsoo hums his agreement into Jongin's skin, hot breath fanning across his ear and drifts into sleep. Jongin tries to stay awake for as long as he can, not wanting to miss a single second of the time that is already dwindling away. Eventually his eyelids grow too heavy for him to keep open and he gives in to the dusk.
Jongin jolts awake to an empty bed and a cold pillow, disoriented and groggy because he can't remember falling asleep. Terror seizes his heart as his breathing quickly spins out of control. People don't die like this. They don't just disappear in the middle of the night while their bodies vanish as if they never existed in the first place. Jongin throws the covers off in a tumultuous flurry of thrashing limbs and then a piece of paper crumples beneath his palm.
I've gone out to buy some groceries! We'll need food if we're going to stay in all day. Didn't want to wake you. Call me if you feel like eating something in particular.
Jongin dashes for his phone and pushes at the numbers with trembling fingers, his mind a mess of numbers and calculated questions of how much time does he have left?
"Kyungsoo!" he shouts as the call finally goes through and his entire body almost convulses at the sound of Kyungsoo's voice on the other end.
"Good morning! Did you want me to cook―"
"What part of we should stay in tomorrow didn't you understand!?!"
"I just went out to get some food."
Jongin can hear the frown even if he's not there to see it but he's too busy panicking.
"Look, just stay where you are―don't move. I'm coming to get you."
He doesn't even bother to change out of his sweats before he's hurtling out the door and down the street, running like his life depended on it towards the supermarket a couple blocks away. In a way, his life does depend on it. By the time the supermarket comes into view, he can already see Kyungsoo shifting back and forth under the red awning of the entrance. Jongin barrels into him, a chaotic and sweaty wreck.
"You scared me," Jongin wheezes, eyes closed tightly.
"I was only gone for an hour," Kyungsoo answers confused.
Jongin pulls back and does a quick but subtle check for injuries, any sign that something is out of place before his eyes dart frantically around, taking in the surroundings and the myriad of situations that could be the reason for Kyungsoo's death. During the entire ordeal, Jongin notices that the red numbers have not stopped counting down, there are only a matter of minutes left.
"Jongin, what's wrong?"
Jongin grabs Kyungsoo and starts pulling him back in the direction of his apartment, deciding to stay away from the main street where a car could easily be the dreaded answer to Kyungsoo's time. The side streets would be much safer, no careening metal death traps waiting to crash into the helpless boy beside him.
"I'll explain later."
He won't but he'll say anything at this point for Kyungsoo to listen to him and comply. The faster they can get back home, the safer he will be. Kyungsoo is stumbling behind Jongin, plastic bags rustling as they bump against his legs, when they pass by a back alley and the shouting first registers, shouting followed by a pleading scream. Jongin is suddenly tugging but they're not moving forward because Kyungsoo has stopped, bags dropped to the ground as he peers into the shadowed alley and sees an elderly woman being mugged.
Everything happens in slow motion.
It's a cacophony of noise. Kyungsoo yells out for the burglar to stop, Jongin's blood is racing through his veins as he curses Kyungsoo's unwavering need to be the good samaritan, and then there's a glint of metal reflected in the sunlight that Jongin spots a second too late. Suddenly, he's running and pushing and his voice leaves his throat in a hoarse cry because he knows. This is how it will end.
Two shots are fired.
Red blooms across a canvas of pale white.
The gunman bolts in fear.
The old lady won't stop screaming as she dials for an ambulance.
Jongin falls to the ground first, staring in shock as he presses his hand against the gunshot wound in his chest. This doesn't make sense, this isn't what he thought would happen and he's gasping for air as his lungs fill with blood. He flips on his side and sees Kyungsoo curled up in a ball just a few feet away, a matching red carnation blossoming near his heart. It finally registers to him. Two shots. Through the haze, Jongin crawls his way over to the fallen boy, fingers digging into gravel and fingers soaked in crimson.
"Kyungsoo," he groans, hand outstretched.
Kyungsoo can only manage a pained whimper as his tear-filled eyes look at Jongin when he collapses in a heap beside him.
"J-jongin?" Kyungsoo splutters as a steady stream of blood trickles out of the corner of his mouth. "Why?"
Jongin's shaking hand latches on to Kyungsoo's wrist, rubbing soothing circles along his slowly dropping pulse point as he coughs and more blood stains the ground.
"I'm sorry, I lied. You didn't have a billion years," he chokes. "But I guess, I didn't either."
Kyungsoo's fingers clench into Jongin's stained white shirt and he cries, it's a mixture of pain and sorrow over the tomorrows that will never come and the kisses that will never happen. All the longing and wistful stares, all of the agonizingly sad looks, everything makes sense to him now.
"You knew. All along, you knew."
"Yeah."
Kyungsoo whimpers again.
"Are you scared?" Jongin whispers, his words are broken and it takes him too long to utter just those three words.
"A little," Kyungsoo breathes heavily as he loses feeling in his lower body.
"You don't have to be scared, you're probably going to heaven."
Kyungsoo tries to laugh but the sound that leaves his throat is more of a strangled gurgle. "Are you coming with me?"
"I would make a shitty angel."
It's getting harder and harder to breathe, it's even more difficult to force the words off of his heavy tongue. Jongin closes his eyes to try and collect his thoughts. He wonders if this is how it was meant to be from the very beginning, if his time was up the minute he laid eyes on the boy with the short hair and big eyes in Chanyeol's Music History class.
00:00:00:00:00:10
Jongin opens his eyes again.
00:00:00:00:00:09
Kyungsoo clings feebly to Jongin
00:00:00:00:00:08
Jongin smiles.
00:00:00:00:00:07
Kyungsoo's lips quiver as he tries to smile back.
00:00:00:00:00:06
The sound of sirens pierce the air but both of them know it's too late.
00:00:00:00:00:05
Jongin tries to say see you soon but the only thing that leaves his mouth is more blood.
00:00:00:00:00:04
Kyungsoo squeezes Jongin's hand and tells him with his eyes that it's okay, I know.
They both close their eyes and this time neither of them have the power to open them again, struggling through a river of lethargy, their heads submerged and unable to swim to the surface. The countdown begins, two clocks that are perfectly identical, perfectly in sync.
00:00:00:00:00:03
00:00:00:00:00:02
00:00:00:00:00:01
Somewhere in a parallel universe a story is being told. A story about a boy who could see red numbers. A story about a boy stuck in complacency until another boy shows up to save him. A story of smiles and laughter and tears and pain. A story that ends.
00:00:00:00:00:00
A/N: I couldn't have done this without Lauren's help and the encouragement of skype group. ;_____; Thank you all so much. P.S. In the process of editing on google docs, we discovered that google is an Infinite stan.
