[PART 04] Dance for the Brokenhearted
Title: Dance for the Brokenhearted. (PT 04)
Author: kyuppuccino
Pairing: Zhou Mi / Kyuhyun
Extra: R-rated (for cussing and hints of sex) / AU
That afternoon Kyuhyun left the bookstore without sparing his former lover one last glance (little did the Chinese know that the younger's eyes were glistening with unshed tears). He flew past the sliding doors, and just walked, walked, and walked through hoards of smiling people doing their Christmas shopping. Luckily, his college wasn't far from there, and in a matter of minutes he was on his knees, on the floor of a rather dirty stall of the first restroom he found.
Once emptied of all the acids and saliva in his stomach, he got up on shaky legs, wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, and rinsed his mouth with the disgusting water running in the sink. The stained mirror showed the pale, sickly face of a young man whose sad eyes were now red and puffy. Tears freely streamed down his cheeks now and, although he had never been much for vanity, he had to admit that he looked quite the mess. Screw class, Kyuhyun thought, clutching his wrist, where an old scar wouldn't stop stinging. I can't be fucked being social today.
After Kyuhyun left the store, Zhou Mi couldn't recall why he had walked in himself, much less if it was important (the only reminiscence he had was that of a book with pictures of buildings and skies). His eyes fell on a piece of crumpled paper on the ground, and after picking it up, he straightened the creases to read in Kyuhyun's neat handwriting:
► Rodden "The Politics of Literary Reputation"
► Hawthorne "Wakefield"
► notebooks / pens / green(?) highlighter
► chewing gums / cigarettes
*
"When did you start smoking?" A voice resonated through the room, icy and angry.
"How in the hell did you get in?" Kyuhyun growled, recognizing the accented tone immediately. Fear and shock pervaded his senses, as his eyes scanned the mildly lit room, unable to see much of it. He blindly searched for the lightswitch, and soon everything was much clearer. On his bed sat Zhou Mi ㅡ next to him was his backpack, along with a plastic bag from which a few pens were sticking out. When Kyuhyun took a few steps closer, he noticed it wasn't just a bunch of pens, but also a couple of books, as well as notebooks, and highlighters in every form and colour the market could offer.
"Your roommate let me in," The older boy said casually, though his eyes never quit glaring at Kyuhyun. "Nice guy. Tall too, and quite handsome." He added with a smirk.
"Great." Kyuhyun muttered, dropping his bag and coat on the carpet. He sat cross-legged on the bed across Zhou Mi's, and while still refusing to meet his eyes, he whispered can't even trust that idiot of Siwon now.
"Don't be mad at him. He liked my accent, did you know he speaks a little Chinese?" The older laughed bitterly, finding it impossibly hard to derive any pleasure from teasing, or cracking jokes. "Are you fucking him?"
"That's none of your business anymore, jerk." Kyuhyun spat distastefully, feeling offended by such accusations.
"When did you start smoking?" Zhou Mi demanded again, more insistently this time. "You didn't answer me."
"Oh, let me think." The younger rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before mustering up the courage to be sarcastic himself. "About three months ago, I think. Now, why that rings a bell, I don't know.."
"Quit."
"Oh, sorry mom." Kyuhyun bowed his head weakly, "But your son's quite depending on the nicotine now." And after a pause, he added a sincere, heartfelt fuck you, Zhou Mi for the second time that day.
The Chinese reacted quickly: he lunged himself at the other boy, and backhanded him, striking his cheek with a bit more strength than he intended. There was a moment of stillness, Kyuhyun's head was tilted to the side, the abused flesh was reddening already, and he had to summon all his willpower to keep from crying, or showing any sign of discomfort.
"Get. The fuck. Out." The younger whispered, and as he pointed at the door to get the message across, the material of his sweater rode up a bit, revealing a frail wrist.
"What the fuck is this?" Zhou Mi gasped loudly, and grabbed Kyuhyun's arm to inspect it, gently rubbing a finger along the scar.
"I fell on a knife." Kyuhyun replied sharply, and pulled his arm back in a defensive manner. "What the hell does it look like to you? It's nothing."
"You're so stupid, Kyuhyun."
Author: kyuppuccino
Pairing: Zhou Mi / Kyuhyun
Extra: R-rated (for cussing and hints of sex) / AU
That afternoon Kyuhyun left the bookstore without sparing his former lover one last glance (little did the Chinese know that the younger's eyes were glistening with unshed tears). He flew past the sliding doors, and just walked, walked, and walked through hoards of smiling people doing their Christmas shopping. Luckily, his college wasn't far from there, and in a matter of minutes he was on his knees, on the floor of a rather dirty stall of the first restroom he found.
Once emptied of all the acids and saliva in his stomach, he got up on shaky legs, wiped at his lips with the back of his hand, and rinsed his mouth with the disgusting water running in the sink. The stained mirror showed the pale, sickly face of a young man whose sad eyes were now red and puffy. Tears freely streamed down his cheeks now and, although he had never been much for vanity, he had to admit that he looked quite the mess. Screw class, Kyuhyun thought, clutching his wrist, where an old scar wouldn't stop stinging. I can't be fucked being social today.
After Kyuhyun left the store, Zhou Mi couldn't recall why he had walked in himself, much less if it was important (the only reminiscence he had was that of a book with pictures of buildings and skies). His eyes fell on a piece of crumpled paper on the ground, and after picking it up, he straightened the creases to read in Kyuhyun's neat handwriting:
► Rodden "The Politics of Literary Reputation"
► Hawthorne "Wakefield"
► notebooks / pens / green(?) highlighter
► chewing gums / cigarettes
*
"When did you start smoking?" A voice resonated through the room, icy and angry.
"How in the hell did you get in?" Kyuhyun growled, recognizing the accented tone immediately. Fear and shock pervaded his senses, as his eyes scanned the mildly lit room, unable to see much of it. He blindly searched for the lightswitch, and soon everything was much clearer. On his bed sat Zhou Mi ㅡ next to him was his backpack, along with a plastic bag from which a few pens were sticking out. When Kyuhyun took a few steps closer, he noticed it wasn't just a bunch of pens, but also a couple of books, as well as notebooks, and highlighters in every form and colour the market could offer.
"Your roommate let me in," The older boy said casually, though his eyes never quit glaring at Kyuhyun. "Nice guy. Tall too, and quite handsome." He added with a smirk.
"Great." Kyuhyun muttered, dropping his bag and coat on the carpet. He sat cross-legged on the bed across Zhou Mi's, and while still refusing to meet his eyes, he whispered can't even trust that idiot of Siwon now.
"Don't be mad at him. He liked my accent, did you know he speaks a little Chinese?" The older laughed bitterly, finding it impossibly hard to derive any pleasure from teasing, or cracking jokes. "Are you fucking him?"
"That's none of your business anymore, jerk." Kyuhyun spat distastefully, feeling offended by such accusations.
"When did you start smoking?" Zhou Mi demanded again, more insistently this time. "You didn't answer me."
"Oh, let me think." The younger rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before mustering up the courage to be sarcastic himself. "About three months ago, I think. Now, why that rings a bell, I don't know.."
"Quit."
"Oh, sorry mom." Kyuhyun bowed his head weakly, "But your son's quite depending on the nicotine now." And after a pause, he added a sincere, heartfelt fuck you, Zhou Mi for the second time that day.
The Chinese reacted quickly: he lunged himself at the other boy, and backhanded him, striking his cheek with a bit more strength than he intended. There was a moment of stillness, Kyuhyun's head was tilted to the side, the abused flesh was reddening already, and he had to summon all his willpower to keep from crying, or showing any sign of discomfort.
"Get. The fuck. Out." The younger whispered, and as he pointed at the door to get the message across, the material of his sweater rode up a bit, revealing a frail wrist.
"What the fuck is this?" Zhou Mi gasped loudly, and grabbed Kyuhyun's arm to inspect it, gently rubbing a finger along the scar.
"I fell on a knife." Kyuhyun replied sharply, and pulled his arm back in a defensive manner. "What the hell does it look like to you? It's nothing."
"You're so stupid, Kyuhyun."