Suicide Lists [2]
Title: The Suicide Lists [Part 2]
Author: xsilentserenity
Pairing(s): friendship!Eunhae, written in Donghae’s POV
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Drama
Warnings: centers around the idea of suicide
Disclaimer: Such a pity.
Summary: When the nothing that is left is too much; when the only option left is to die, to disappear, to have never even existed, maybe all it takes to hold on are the smallest, most trivial things.
~~~
<< Part 1 | Part 3 >>
When I wake up in the morning, there’s rain pouring outside my window, and the sun is obviously hidden behind the dark clouds that blanket the sky. Despite the weather, I have a feeling like today is going to be a good day, for some reason. I can’t remember the last time I woke up feeling so pumped for a day to begin. Then again, it’s never long before any good mood of mine disappears.
My mother isn’t at home when I trudge down the stairs, ruffling my hair to make it fall correctly. In a moment of foolish giddiness, I decided to actually dress in something nicely casual, so my dark blue, nearly black jeans contrast perfectly with the white shirt and vest I’m wearing. There isn’t any breakfast steaming hot on the kitchen counter as usual, so I grab a slice of bread and pop it into the toaster, grabbing my school bag and shoes while I’m waiting for it to toast.
I hear the school bus when it’s down the road, so I grab the halfway toasted piece of bread from the toaster and run out the door, the toast held by my lips, backpack slung over one shoulder, and my shoes in one hand. Even though I probably look like quite the spectacle, when I arrive on the bus, moving down the aisle to my usual seat, no one spares me any glance or words. I didn’t pay it any heed though; I didn’t want to ruin my unorthodox good mood by brooding over things that will never change.
Throughout school, nothing changed at all. I had a test in math that everyone complained about, but I’m pretty sure I did well. Throughout language arts and literature, we just worked on the study of a novel of our choice, which was truly entertaining for me, as the class usually is. Today actually seems like a great day, surprising after yesterday’s events.
I get wet in the incessant rain a couple of times as I walk between my classes, not wanting to squish myself into the overly crowded corridors that have covers as shelters from the rain. Because of the storm however, our physical sports class was canceled, and I spent the remainder of my day in study hall, slightly uncomfortable in my soaked clothes. I can’t help myself from sneaking in a secret smile to myself once in a while though, as I remember how I ran through the torrents of water, my feet created splashes in the large puddles. It had been extremely exhilarating, and I could nearly feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as the water drops chilled me to the bone, passing through my clothes and onto my skin.
During the hour of study hall, where I finished most of my homework for the evening, I dry off almost completely, so when school ends and the students are released towards the bus line, my shirt and pants are dry, though my hair and shoes remain a little damp. The ground is full of puddles and mud, and everyone around me is hopping over the larger puddles, but I just walk through them. There’s no point trying to avoid water when my socks and shoes are already soaked.
When I board the bus, the bus driver, for once, turns ot me, noticing my presence, and calls a kind “good afternoon” my way. My face breaks out the largest grin I can possible make and I smile at him before returning the greeting. When I take my window seat in the first row, my smile doesn’t even disappear.
It’s relatively crowded on the bus because all after school activities have been canceled, so the number of students going home on the bus has increased for today. I stare out the window, observing my surroundings of the school, while people walk past the front seat, passing me to head towards their friends near the back or middle. As more students enter, the noise level increases as well, but I try to tune out the words, leaving conversation to be a constant buzz in my ears.
It’s because of this and my daydreaming that I don’t hear the voice directed towards me. It’s probably because no one really talks to me unless I initiate the conversation. I turn in surprise, my eyes wide and startled when I feel a hand tapping my shoulder. I look up towards the boy standing in front of me, who grins when he sees that he’s caught my attention. I shake my head quickly to clear my thoughts and then focus on him.
“What did you say?” I ask, still shocked that he had even talked to me.
“I asked if I could sit here. All the other seats are taken,” he replies, grinning until his eyes crinkle in happiness.
Somehow the notion that he’s such a giddy person sickens me subconsciously, but I allow myself a small smile and pull my backpack off the seat next to me. He smiles again when he slides into the seat, murmuring a quick thanks. I nod and turn back to the window, knowing that he won’t talk to me again; he only needed my attention to ask for the seat.
The bus begins moving, and soon we’re on the way back to my neighborhood, the same scenery as yesterday, the day before, and the day before that all rushing past outside the glass. The rocking of the bus and the low hum of the engine are enough to lull me to sleep, and I rest my head against the window, feeling the vibrations with my head. With my eyes closed and the vibrating massage going through my skull, my eyelids feel heavier and heavier, and I begin to drift off.
A sudden lurch of the bus over a bump in the road jolts me awake again, and I look around in surprise, glancing out the window to make sure that I haven’t missed my bus stop. Realizing I haven’t, I heave a quiet sigh of relief , relaxing back into my chair.
The boy next to me startles me again by speaking. I didn’t even remember that he was sitting next to me, occupying the usually empty seat. “Afraid you missed your stop?” he asks. I nod slowly in response, and he chuckles. “We haven’t reached our neighborhood yet. I would have woken you up when we did.”
I smile at the sweet caring behind his statement and decide that I can’t reply to this without words. “Thanks…. You know, for the offer?” I end with a questioned connotation, wondering if offer is the right word for what he said he would have done.
He laughs and covers his mouth with his hands, but not before I catch a glimpse of his wide smile and gums that showed. “What’s your name, by the way?” he asks, and I’m shocked into silence.
Hardly anyone has ever asked me for my name, and even if they do introduce themselves, it’s because I’m the nerd of the class, and they know a loner like me would be able to help them with their work. But this boy, I’m sure he’s not in any of my classes; I’ve never even met him before. Even though I’m usually a bubbly, cheerful person in school, putting up my façade for everyone, I still don’t have a lot of friends, because ultimately, I can’t let people in. And this stranger now… he is asking for my name? I can’t help but feel my stomach twisting and turning in nervousness. What if I chase him away? What if I push him out? Do I even want to be his friend? A thousand questions about consequences to my reaction flit through my mind at once.
“D-Donghae,” I answer. “Lee Donghae.”
The boy smiles at me, and every muscle relaxes in my body. I vaguely hope that I didn’t look as tense as I felt. “I’m Lee Hyukjae! We share the same family name!” he exclaims, and feel myself smiling back.
For some reason, I feel as if I can trust this “Hyukjae,” but I’m still cautious around every stranger that I newly meet, not that that number is many. “Yeah,” I agree, nodding, and I turn back to the front.
Hyukjae does the same, and we lapse into a comfortable silence, neither of us breaking the quietness. When we enter my neighborhood, children begin leaving the bus, and calls of “Bye!,” “See you tomorrow!” and “Text me!” fill the air. As I continue gazing out the window, I can see the students running to their houses, trying to avoid the rain as much as possible.
Hyukjae turns to me one stop before my own. “Where’s your stop?” he asks curiously, and I point through the windshield, towards my street, which can now be seen as the bus turns.
“I live there,” I reply, not expecting Hyukjae to turn to me in barely contained excitement.
“That’s my stop too!” he nearly screams, and I stare at him with a confused, incredulous expression.
“No one else shares my stop with me, though,” I say, and Hyukjae shakes his head.
Before I can even wonder why he’s constantly smiling, he answers me. “I’m new here! I moved her a few weeks ago, and I just transferred schools.”
I nod in understanding. So that’s why I’ve never even seen him before. “What class are you in?” I ask.
Hyukjae frowns, concentrating on remembering his schedule, before grinning as he recalls it. “I’m in 2-B!”
I can’t help but smile at his joyful expression. Something about Hyukjae gives off the vibe that while he’s obviously the same as me -suspicions were confirmed when he said he was in class 2-but he is a child within. But then I also feel as he’s the same as me; hurt and helpless on the inside, while he only covers it with a nearly flawless mask of smiles and cheers. But obviously, I don’t know him well enough to judge whether he’s similar to me or not.
“I’m in 2-A,” I reply. “Seems like we’re in the same grade.”
Hyukjae smiles again. “Then we’ll see a lot of each other! I’m glad! You’re my first friend here.”
His words stun me into silence again. Friends? Is that what we are? I don’t have any friends, nor did I plan on ever gaining any. I learned not to trust people a long time ago, when my “friends” betrayed me after realizing that there were problems in my life that were slowly changing me into someone they didn’t want to be associated with. But could Hyukjae and I really be friends? Should I even risk having a friend again?
The bus stops, the doors swinging open and Hyukjae rouses me out of my shocked state by rises, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. “Donghae, come on,” he beckons towards the door, and I automatically rise and join him, thoughts and questions still occupying my mind.
We depart from the bus, and end up walking the same direction. I don’t speak, still musing over the thought of us being friends, when Hyukjae decides to strike up conversation. “Where do you live?” he asks, and I glance up towards my house.
“Over there,” I point out my house, and he nods.
“I live three houses down,” and he points out his house, a little bit further down.
I recognize it immediately. It’s the house that has been on sale for a few months now, before it was unexpectedly bought a few months ago. I saw the moving trucks a few weeks back, but didn’t really investigate the new people or house. I guess it was Hyukjae. We reach my house and I stop walking, Hyukjae taking my lead and pausing his steps too.
“This is my house,” I repeat, even though I just pointed it out, and Hyukjae smiles and nods. “So… bye.”
He nods again and gestures towards his house. “I’ll be at my house, if you’re free and want to come over or something. My mom is hardly ever home, and my father doesn’t work here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, why?”
By the look on Hyukjae’s face, I know I’m treading in dangerous land, but why bring it up if he’s not willing to explain. I guess he thought I was like most other people, who would infer that it’s a touchy subject and not bother asking for an explanation. But I’m not like other people; whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as my situation, so my voice obviously took on an almost challenging tone, demanding a reason.
Hyukjae’s eyes narrow slightly, but he recovers himself almost immediately. “It’s nothing, really. He’s just out of town frequently.”
I nod like I don’t know it’s a lie and turn around, waving a hand over my shoulder. Somehow, my day just got a lot better and a lot worse. As I make my way inside, turning the house key in the front door lock, my mind keeps going back to Hyukjae and how mysterious he’s turning out to be. At a first glance, he was just like anyone else, only speaking to me to ask for a place to sit, but he changed into someone else. A friend? Is that what I can call him?
Hyukjae, it seems, has two sides, though one is well hidden from the public’s eye. But I’m not the public, and I have keener eyes. I’ve been through too much to not recognize someone who’s like me, or at least, kind of the same. I don’t know how this “friendship” will work out, though. Hyukjae… he’s suffocating. He’s… me, but him at the same time. I don’t even know who he is, and he doesn’t know who I am, but I already know it, somehow.
Hyukjae…can I really rely on him? Can I trust him? He might be a true friend, with no intentions of betraying me, but I know he’ll leave. One day, I’ll become suffocating to him, too. Suddenly, there’s a giant weight on my shoulders, and before I begin crying, thinking about how infinitely stupid my entire life is, I can only manage to chuckle at my own idiocy.
Why even bothering wondering if I’m worth having friends?
~~~
A/N: here's Suicide Lists, part 2! I hope you enjoyed it! Yay for Hyukjae's first appearance! This part was slightly more happy, but that was the only way Donghae would even think about having Hyukjae as a friend, right? The next part will be a lot more angsty, believe me. I'm thinking about having this short series have 5 parts, 6 if I feel like it.
Thanks for reading, and tell me what you think!
and for those of you who read the holiday oneshot titled "When It Snows," did anyone notice the similarities it had to BoA's song "Distance"? I just found that song today (fail!me) and wow... I never realized how much my fic related to that song or vice versa. I thought it was cool! :)