Tell Me You Love Me; Epilogue
Title: Tell Me You Love Me
Rating: PG
Pairing/Focus: Onew, Taekey, Jongho.
Summary: In the movies, when a singer lost their voice, all you had to do was break the shell and they got it back, and everyone lived happily ever after, lesson learned. But movies aren't real, and when a voice leaves, sometimes it doesn't want to come back, and some lessons leave marks that even happy endings can't erase. . . .
Its the end. the epilogue. I want to thank all my readers who stuck with this beast for the year it took me to post it. thank you all so very, very much. without you all i probably would never have found out that I really love to write, and its not just something i like to do on occasion.
thanks beyond words to manaphasm who had to put up with my mood swings and my really bad late night writing through out this all.
THANK YOU
_________________
now, the secret. i told you all it would make everything a little bit sadder.
The thought of finding pleasure from this man had Onew biting the inside of his cheeks, twisting his swollen wrist left and right, and slamming his head back into the wall over and over again, hoping to overwhelm his body with pain, making it unable to feel anything else. He wasn’t planning on giving this man the satisfaction of his pleasure.
Jinki’s legs unexpectedly buckled after a loud, sickening thwack of his head against the wall, making him cry out in surprise...
~~~~
“It’s your eyes, Jinki. Your optical lobe, that’s in the back of your head,” she placed her hand on the back of hers to demonstrate, “was damaged. It’s nothing too major, but your vision is going to be impaired for the rest of your life.”
~~~~~
the secret is that Jinki hit his head against the wall so hard to stop himself from giving the guard the satisfaction of feeling his respond, that he damaged himself.
now~
onward, to the epilogue!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two years and SHINee had forgotten, but Jinki remembered.
These days, he was known more by Onew than by his real name, he'd preformed in countries he hadn’t dared to dream would like their music, and with so many things going on lately, their Japanese debut, and getting ready for their fourth-he could hardly believe it-comeback to the Korean stage, it was hard not to get caught up. While musicals, a reality show, and some special guest appearances under his belt all told him he'd grown as both an idol and a person, there was still that one day that rolled around each year that made him feel like an eighteen year old child, crouched in the corner waiting to be saved.
This year, it was more obvious than ever that none of the other boys remembered. Key had taken Taemin out for some 'special, dancers only, one on one bonding time' and Onew wanted to call so much bullshit on that, but Taemin was eighteen now, and all Jinki could really do about it was chew on his nails and imagine evil things to do to Key. Minho and Jonghyun were at it, too, with heated looks and lingering touches. They wouldn’t do anything with him in the house, but they would be making plans to get away without making Jinki feel like he was ditched. Onew wondered why his band mates chose today of all days to get frisky. Was it something in the air?
No, of course not. It was just their first day off after some grueling Japanese promotions. Jonghyun had been threatening to get back at Minho for telling their fans that Jjong loved him. Jinki wanted to be angry with them, with all of them, for acting in such a manner today, but it wasn’t their cross to bear, so he called a driver and made a hasty exit from the dorm. His boyfriends probably thought that they had made him leave somehow, and childishly he hoped they did, but he really did have something to do today, so why make them risk finding another place to go if he wasn’t going to be home?
He tried not to feel jealous of them finding pleasure in each other without him, but he couldn’t fight it, or the insecurities that hounded him. Maybe they didn’t want him that way, not anymore. He'd confessed as much, and then spent the next week unable to look them in the eye; they were very detailed with their fantasies. The way their voices sounded as they said those…things to him, it made him feel like maybe it would feel, well, good, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the mental images yet.
That didn’t mean he hadn't tried. He was a growing boy, after all. When Jonghyun went blond for Ring Ding Dong, when Minho stopped being the pretty, lanky boy and became the broad, muscular man for Lucifer, Jinki had trouble keeping his hands to himself. He would end up on the couch, or bed, or pressed against the wall with one of them, never both, tongues down each other’s throats as hands wandered without boundaries…but then someone would do something wrong, nip a little bit too hard, call him ‘baby’ in a voice too deep or too growly, and Jinki would panic and stop, going to take a shower as the memories made him feel dirty all over again, leaving the younger boys apologizing and more than a little turned on.
People say memories fade; Jinki just wished those ones would fade faster.
~*~*~*~
His first stop was a quaint little flower shop, where he ordered white tulips and carnations. He had them wrapped up nicely in a black silk ribbon, and then set off to the cemetery.
Jung Jaeseok was thirty-five when he bled to death from a lacerated femoral artery. Jinki hadn’t learned his name until the cops told him the day he was discharged, the day of the funeral. They claimed they'd told him before, but he just shrugged; he didn’t remember the monster being named anything but a nightmare. So every year on the day he died, Jinki came and placed flowers on his grave. It just felt like the right thing to do; he was dead because of Onew.
Key’s confession in the hospital, where he had told the older boy that he was glad the guard was dead, had really helped him move past the incident. It was the acceptance for what he'd done that Jinki had been so afraid he wouldn’t find. He'd taken a life, who could accept that? But there Kibum had been, offering it up on a silver platter. He probably wouldn’t ever be able to truly forgive himself, but he could move past it, like he'd done with so many other things. The awkward months following, where he got used to needing glasses, the unnecessary space he put between himself and everyone else…it took him a while, not as long as before, but a few dark, stressful months passed and he found himself ready to work again. He thought that maybe he had developed a kind of tolerance to what happened, or something, to explain why this attack incapacitated him less, or maybe it was his support system. All of his band members, not just Jonghyun and Minho, were ready, willing, and able to do anything for him. Secretly, he thought it was the latter.
This was the third time Jinki had come to this grave. He stood over it, looking down at the headstone for long, countless minutes. What do you say to the man you killed? Finally, he crouched down and gently placed the flowers on the ground, then touched the cold, smooth stone with hesitant fingertips.
"I forgive you."
hit counter
Rating: PG
Pairing/Focus: Onew, Taekey, Jongho.
Summary: In the movies, when a singer lost their voice, all you had to do was break the shell and they got it back, and everyone lived happily ever after, lesson learned. But movies aren't real, and when a voice leaves, sometimes it doesn't want to come back, and some lessons leave marks that even happy endings can't erase. . . .
Its the end. the epilogue. I want to thank all my readers who stuck with this beast for the year it took me to post it. thank you all so very, very much. without you all i probably would never have found out that I really love to write, and its not just something i like to do on occasion.
thanks beyond words to manaphasm who had to put up with my mood swings and my really bad late night writing through out this all.
THANK YOU
_________________
now, the secret. i told you all it would make everything a little bit sadder.
The thought of finding pleasure from this man had Onew biting the inside of his cheeks, twisting his swollen wrist left and right, and slamming his head back into the wall over and over again, hoping to overwhelm his body with pain, making it unable to feel anything else. He wasn’t planning on giving this man the satisfaction of his pleasure.
Jinki’s legs unexpectedly buckled after a loud, sickening thwack of his head against the wall, making him cry out in surprise...
~~~~
“It’s your eyes, Jinki. Your optical lobe, that’s in the back of your head,” she placed her hand on the back of hers to demonstrate, “was damaged. It’s nothing too major, but your vision is going to be impaired for the rest of your life.”
~~~~~
the secret is that Jinki hit his head against the wall so hard to stop himself from giving the guard the satisfaction of feeling his respond, that he damaged himself.
now~
onward, to the epilogue!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two years and SHINee had forgotten, but Jinki remembered.
These days, he was known more by Onew than by his real name, he'd preformed in countries he hadn’t dared to dream would like their music, and with so many things going on lately, their Japanese debut, and getting ready for their fourth-he could hardly believe it-comeback to the Korean stage, it was hard not to get caught up. While musicals, a reality show, and some special guest appearances under his belt all told him he'd grown as both an idol and a person, there was still that one day that rolled around each year that made him feel like an eighteen year old child, crouched in the corner waiting to be saved.
This year, it was more obvious than ever that none of the other boys remembered. Key had taken Taemin out for some 'special, dancers only, one on one bonding time' and Onew wanted to call so much bullshit on that, but Taemin was eighteen now, and all Jinki could really do about it was chew on his nails and imagine evil things to do to Key. Minho and Jonghyun were at it, too, with heated looks and lingering touches. They wouldn’t do anything with him in the house, but they would be making plans to get away without making Jinki feel like he was ditched. Onew wondered why his band mates chose today of all days to get frisky. Was it something in the air?
No, of course not. It was just their first day off after some grueling Japanese promotions. Jonghyun had been threatening to get back at Minho for telling their fans that Jjong loved him. Jinki wanted to be angry with them, with all of them, for acting in such a manner today, but it wasn’t their cross to bear, so he called a driver and made a hasty exit from the dorm. His boyfriends probably thought that they had made him leave somehow, and childishly he hoped they did, but he really did have something to do today, so why make them risk finding another place to go if he wasn’t going to be home?
He tried not to feel jealous of them finding pleasure in each other without him, but he couldn’t fight it, or the insecurities that hounded him. Maybe they didn’t want him that way, not anymore. He'd confessed as much, and then spent the next week unable to look them in the eye; they were very detailed with their fantasies. The way their voices sounded as they said those…things to him, it made him feel like maybe it would feel, well, good, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the mental images yet.
That didn’t mean he hadn't tried. He was a growing boy, after all. When Jonghyun went blond for Ring Ding Dong, when Minho stopped being the pretty, lanky boy and became the broad, muscular man for Lucifer, Jinki had trouble keeping his hands to himself. He would end up on the couch, or bed, or pressed against the wall with one of them, never both, tongues down each other’s throats as hands wandered without boundaries…but then someone would do something wrong, nip a little bit too hard, call him ‘baby’ in a voice too deep or too growly, and Jinki would panic and stop, going to take a shower as the memories made him feel dirty all over again, leaving the younger boys apologizing and more than a little turned on.
People say memories fade; Jinki just wished those ones would fade faster.
~*~*~*~
His first stop was a quaint little flower shop, where he ordered white tulips and carnations. He had them wrapped up nicely in a black silk ribbon, and then set off to the cemetery.
Jung Jaeseok was thirty-five when he bled to death from a lacerated femoral artery. Jinki hadn’t learned his name until the cops told him the day he was discharged, the day of the funeral. They claimed they'd told him before, but he just shrugged; he didn’t remember the monster being named anything but a nightmare. So every year on the day he died, Jinki came and placed flowers on his grave. It just felt like the right thing to do; he was dead because of Onew.
Key’s confession in the hospital, where he had told the older boy that he was glad the guard was dead, had really helped him move past the incident. It was the acceptance for what he'd done that Jinki had been so afraid he wouldn’t find. He'd taken a life, who could accept that? But there Kibum had been, offering it up on a silver platter. He probably wouldn’t ever be able to truly forgive himself, but he could move past it, like he'd done with so many other things. The awkward months following, where he got used to needing glasses, the unnecessary space he put between himself and everyone else…it took him a while, not as long as before, but a few dark, stressful months passed and he found himself ready to work again. He thought that maybe he had developed a kind of tolerance to what happened, or something, to explain why this attack incapacitated him less, or maybe it was his support system. All of his band members, not just Jonghyun and Minho, were ready, willing, and able to do anything for him. Secretly, he thought it was the latter.
This was the third time Jinki had come to this grave. He stood over it, looking down at the headstone for long, countless minutes. What do you say to the man you killed? Finally, he crouched down and gently placed the flowers on the ground, then touched the cold, smooth stone with hesitant fingertips.
"I forgive you."
hit counter