on letting go.
Title: on letting go.
Pairing: changrick
Genre: heavy angst
Rating: PG-13, just a lot of cursing
Warnings: character death, mentions of attempted suicide, slight blood
Summary: "when is this going to stop hurting?"
A/N: guess who did this instead of doing apush essays?? (answer: me)
the bed is so cold without ricky next to him.
-
in the dark of night, he can pretend that ricky’s still here, that when he wakes up, ricky will be right here next to him, breathing softly.
-
it’s so rough. it’s in the critical period, the first few months, that changjo can’t be bothered to handle himself in social situations. he isn’t able to just let ricky go - fuck: every time, every time, he goes to point something out to ricky, as he turns. but when he does, he’s hit by the crippling realisation that no, ricky’s not here.
not anymore.
-
changjo just can’t stop crying lately.
breaking down.
it’s in their room, here, where ricky would smile at him, eyes alight with laughter and soft smiles, everything soft -- as he just lays there on their bed. it’s only then, that he realises he can’t sleep. not without ricky next to him, not without the feeling of ricky’s warmth.
he can’t help it, no --
can’t sleep, can’t eat.
nothing.
the only place he seeks solace in is ricky’s cold grave. the stone is smooth under his hand.
one night, he just ends up staying there -- hours and hours until he’s sleeping on the marshy grounds, only wrapped up in a jacket.
(it’s a morning later, a night full of searching for him, that everyone else find him sleeping there, tear streaks frozen on his pale face.)
(fuck, does he get sick after that - but he doesn’t find it in him to care. not when living or dying is irrelevant to him.)
-
he is nothing without ricky.
-
fuck
fuck
FUCK
changjo is so broken without ricky.
so empty, just an empty empty shell of a boy who was only capable of loving and loving, but the one person who loved him is buried in the ground.
and chanhee hyung, and daniel hyung, and minsoo hyung, and byunghun hyung just look at him with these worried eyes and he can’t handle that.
he doesn’t deserve their sorry looks, their pity stares.
he prays to God, to the heavens above that ricky’s happy wherever he is.
that ricky’s found peace, that ricky’s okay, but FUCK, he’s so angry --
so impossibly angry that this drunk driver who stares back at him in the middle of a courtroom is still alive. this person took away the person most precious to him, and he was so angry he couldn’t even breathe --
and so he finds himself, here, in an empty church, crying echoing in the vast space around.
he screams, loudly, voice cracking, as he curls into his self, wrapping his arms around himself as he begs --
“Lord, please, just bring him back --”
“please, he didn’t deserve this! --”
“after everything we’ve been through --”
“-- please --”
“-- PLEASE --”
“LORD, PLEASE --”
-
“wh-what?”
“we’re sorry, sir, there wasn’t anything we can do.”
bullshit.
“we’re sorry --”
“we did our best --”
their best wasn’t fucking good enough.
they were doctors.
they were supposed to save people --
they were supposed to save ricky --
“no apology can fix this. what of my love? what of ricky? will you build another of him? will you piece him back together, replace the shattered bones and the slaughtered flesh? will you breathe life back into him so i may see him smile once more? so i may tell him that i love him, that i need him one last time? that i may ask him to stay?”
he’s selfish, fuck -- changjo is so selfish --
he’s always been selfish, never known how to love something soft, but he tried with ricky, really did, tried to love him with every fiber of his being and every inch of his heart, but things never go as planned,
and they certainly didn’t plan for this.
he shuts down.
closes his eyes and just cries.
everyone apologises to him.
it doesn’t do a thing other than make him feel sick, makes the bile rise up quicker.
he doesn’t want apologies.
doesn’t want the empty words just as empty as the shell he’s become because no words can fix this.
he doesn’t want fancy words.
doesn’t want an obituary, a eulogy.
he just wants ricky back, dammit.
-
all changjo does is shout.
if he’s not shouting, he’s unresponsive, doesn’t speak.
he doesn’t know which one is better as he screams,
“ricky never deserved this, he was never supposed to die,” and he says it with such pain, such anguish, such conviction that even the heavens above believe it themselves.
it should have been him -- should have been, could have been -- FUCK --
“bring him back, just please, bring him back -- it should have been me, God, please, i’ll do anything, take me instead -- bring him back -- take me instead, please, i can’t do this, i can’t live like this --”
and the heavens cry with him, with the boy once full of love whose love was taken away, leaving an empty person shaped hole.
they say the greek gods split the humans, split the soulmates.
that they were left forever, trying to find their loved ones who were taken away from them so suddenly, wrenched from their grasp.
changjo thinks it’s a little like that.
-
changjo heard somewhere that the human heart was the size of a fist. surely, whatever he was feeling had to have be made by something larger than his hands. but most definitely, a heart still breaks and bleeds the same way.
-
WHEN ARE THINGS SUPPOSED TO GET BETTER
WHEN IS THE HEALING PROCESS SUPPOSED TO START
THEY SAY TO GET OVER YOU, BUT I FUCKING CAN’T, I JUST CAN’T
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES IN THE CRACK OF DAWN, I TURN OVER AND YOU’RE NEXT TO ME, SMILING SUCH A SOFT PRECIOUS SMILE, ONE THAT I HAVEN’T SEEN IN SO LONG --
I WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE IT AGAIN
FUCK, I MISS YOU
WHEN IS THE EMPTY GOING TO STOP HURTING
-
changjo misses ricky all the fucking time, and it’s been so long since ricky’s been in his arms, that changjo has forgotten what life felt like without the pain.
-
the silence is so painful --
the echoing, suffocating silence -
fuck it makes him so angry, makes him weep --
makes him fall to his knees in front of ricky’s grave, burying his face in his hands.
it feels so alien, heavy on his skin like drying blood, crying in front of ricky’s grave remembering the way ricky felt in his arms, the warmth that spread through his body like a forest fire, remembered how it felt to kiss ricky’s forehead, remembered the feeling of ricky’s pulse st-st-stuttering at every affectionate touch from him, and he remembers -- fuck, does he remember -- the way ricky looked at him.
(bleeding in the bathroom, smiling weakly --)
(“i love you.”)
(and fuck, changjo had always wanted to hear it, but never in that situation --)
(“i love you too.”)
(so much. i loved you so so much.)
that was the first time they had told each other they loved each other,
and for fuck’s sake, if he had known the last time that ricky would say he loved changjo, and the last time that changjo would say he loved ricky, was five minutes before the fucking crash --
dammit.
changjo would have told him he loved him more, would have took him in his arms, kissed him sweetly, soundly, lovingly, passionately -- fuck, fuck, fuck -- and he screams this sentiment to the sky --
he can’t live like this, can’t live without ricky, doesn’t know how to go on from this,
he loves ricky so much, it hurts him, pains him, he only hopes that ricky’s happy -- that ricky wasn’t in pain when he died -- hopes that it was as painless as possible --
-
he curls beside the grave that was once the boy who loved him, and he weeps for his loss.
his heart beats and beats, an aching funeral tune within his chest.
-
he stands there, tear-streaked and all.
the rain is falling hard outside of the hall where they leave the casket open.
it’s hours later that they need to lower it seven feet in the ground.
-
changjo cuddles ricky --
the smaller boy just laughs softly, melodically, pressing kisses against his jaw --
changjo just pulls him closer, arms wrapped around the other’s waist --
they’re supposed to be watching a movie, but neither of them are actually watching it,
all too focused on watching each other instead.
but it’s months later, when ricky’s gone, that he flips through the channels --
and fuck, he sees the movie, and he can’t stop the tears, just crying as he wraps the blanket around him tighter, wishes it were a noose around his neck --
he’s haunted by the memories of ricky smiling up at him,
pressing their smiles together, exchanging soft kisses in the dark, feather touches.
their figures only illuminated by the glow of the tv.
-
they had been coming home from dinner.
ricky was smiling -- fuck --
mid-smile --
a cute, gentle, smile --
the brightest smile --
a smile reserved just for him --
-
he’s starting to forget what ricky’s laughs sound like.
the way ricky would lean against him, nudge him with his knee.
the way ricky would hold his hand to calm him down.
he doesn’t want to forget.
he didn’t want ricky to die either.
we don’t always get what we want.
-
he just feels so lost.
he misses having ricky by his side, because ricky was home, and now he’s just a traveller.
a wanderer.
not all those who wander are lost.
but changjo surely is.
-
“forget all pretense.
ricky’s dead.
there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“you have to move on.”
“we’re sorry for your loss, but he wouldn’t have wanted this.”
how could you possibly know what ricky would have wanted?
“this isn’t healthy.”
“stop dwelling in the past.”
“let him go.”
fuck off.
-
as changjo downs another bottle of alcohol, he stares out the window.
he just wants to lie here, breathe in dust, choke maybe. he doesn’t want to get up for anything.
changjo hopes ricky remembers him happy. remembers him laughing. remembers him smiling.
he hopes that ricky won’t see him like this, at the bottom of a well, feeling nothing, and nothing, and nothing. is nothing.
-
“are you okay?”
he doesn’t spare any of his friends the truth.
why?
when they are not him --
not ricky --
“no.”
-
they said time will heal and time will mend.
liars.
-
he’s laying on the hospital bed.
flowers, cards, chocolates.
fine.
he’ll smile all they want, lopsided and teary.
if they gave him what he wanted.
(just give me what i want --
just give me ricky back --)
-
the funeral is on changjo’s birthday. happy birthday, you worthless piece of shit.
here, have the boy you love and a shiny casket to match.
-
it’s been two years.
irony has a way of biting him in the ass.
changjo thinks he just shouldn’t be in cars anymore.
he feels the life draining out of him slowly.
pitter, patter.
his eyes are starting to close.
the last thing he sees as he turns his head is… something light, something ephemeral.
someone iridescent.
his eyes close.
they don’t open.
-
you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
you make me happy when skies are grey.
you’ll never know, dear.
how much i love you.
please don’t take my sunshine… away.
Pairing: changrick
Genre: heavy angst
Rating: PG-13, just a lot of cursing
Warnings: character death, mentions of attempted suicide, slight blood
Summary: "when is this going to stop hurting?"
A/N: guess who did this instead of doing apush essays?? (answer: me)
the bed is so cold without ricky next to him.
-
in the dark of night, he can pretend that ricky’s still here, that when he wakes up, ricky will be right here next to him, breathing softly.
-
it’s so rough. it’s in the critical period, the first few months, that changjo can’t be bothered to handle himself in social situations. he isn’t able to just let ricky go - fuck: every time, every time, he goes to point something out to ricky, as he turns. but when he does, he’s hit by the crippling realisation that no, ricky’s not here.
not anymore.
-
changjo just can’t stop crying lately.
breaking down.
it’s in their room, here, where ricky would smile at him, eyes alight with laughter and soft smiles, everything soft -- as he just lays there on their bed. it’s only then, that he realises he can’t sleep. not without ricky next to him, not without the feeling of ricky’s warmth.
he can’t help it, no --
can’t sleep, can’t eat.
nothing.
the only place he seeks solace in is ricky’s cold grave. the stone is smooth under his hand.
one night, he just ends up staying there -- hours and hours until he’s sleeping on the marshy grounds, only wrapped up in a jacket.
(it’s a morning later, a night full of searching for him, that everyone else find him sleeping there, tear streaks frozen on his pale face.)
(fuck, does he get sick after that - but he doesn’t find it in him to care. not when living or dying is irrelevant to him.)
-
he is nothing without ricky.
-
fuck
fuck
FUCK
changjo is so broken without ricky.
so empty, just an empty empty shell of a boy who was only capable of loving and loving, but the one person who loved him is buried in the ground.
and chanhee hyung, and daniel hyung, and minsoo hyung, and byunghun hyung just look at him with these worried eyes and he can’t handle that.
he doesn’t deserve their sorry looks, their pity stares.
he prays to God, to the heavens above that ricky’s happy wherever he is.
that ricky’s found peace, that ricky’s okay, but FUCK, he’s so angry --
so impossibly angry that this drunk driver who stares back at him in the middle of a courtroom is still alive. this person took away the person most precious to him, and he was so angry he couldn’t even breathe --
and so he finds himself, here, in an empty church, crying echoing in the vast space around.
he screams, loudly, voice cracking, as he curls into his self, wrapping his arms around himself as he begs --
“Lord, please, just bring him back --”
“please, he didn’t deserve this! --”
“after everything we’ve been through --”
“-- please --”
“-- PLEASE --”
“LORD, PLEASE --”
-
“wh-what?”
“we’re sorry, sir, there wasn’t anything we can do.”
bullshit.
“we’re sorry --”
“we did our best --”
their best wasn’t fucking good enough.
they were doctors.
they were supposed to save people --
they were supposed to save ricky --
“no apology can fix this. what of my love? what of ricky? will you build another of him? will you piece him back together, replace the shattered bones and the slaughtered flesh? will you breathe life back into him so i may see him smile once more? so i may tell him that i love him, that i need him one last time? that i may ask him to stay?”
he’s selfish, fuck -- changjo is so selfish --
he’s always been selfish, never known how to love something soft, but he tried with ricky, really did, tried to love him with every fiber of his being and every inch of his heart, but things never go as planned,
and they certainly didn’t plan for this.
he shuts down.
closes his eyes and just cries.
everyone apologises to him.
it doesn’t do a thing other than make him feel sick, makes the bile rise up quicker.
he doesn’t want apologies.
doesn’t want the empty words just as empty as the shell he’s become because no words can fix this.
he doesn’t want fancy words.
doesn’t want an obituary, a eulogy.
he just wants ricky back, dammit.
-
all changjo does is shout.
if he’s not shouting, he’s unresponsive, doesn’t speak.
he doesn’t know which one is better as he screams,
“ricky never deserved this, he was never supposed to die,” and he says it with such pain, such anguish, such conviction that even the heavens above believe it themselves.
it should have been him -- should have been, could have been -- FUCK --
“bring him back, just please, bring him back -- it should have been me, God, please, i’ll do anything, take me instead -- bring him back -- take me instead, please, i can’t do this, i can’t live like this --”
and the heavens cry with him, with the boy once full of love whose love was taken away, leaving an empty person shaped hole.
they say the greek gods split the humans, split the soulmates.
that they were left forever, trying to find their loved ones who were taken away from them so suddenly, wrenched from their grasp.
changjo thinks it’s a little like that.
-
changjo heard somewhere that the human heart was the size of a fist. surely, whatever he was feeling had to have be made by something larger than his hands. but most definitely, a heart still breaks and bleeds the same way.
-
WHEN ARE THINGS SUPPOSED TO GET BETTER
WHEN IS THE HEALING PROCESS SUPPOSED TO START
THEY SAY TO GET OVER YOU, BUT I FUCKING CAN’T, I JUST CAN’T
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES IN THE CRACK OF DAWN, I TURN OVER AND YOU’RE NEXT TO ME, SMILING SUCH A SOFT PRECIOUS SMILE, ONE THAT I HAVEN’T SEEN IN SO LONG --
I WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE IT AGAIN
FUCK, I MISS YOU
WHEN IS THE EMPTY GOING TO STOP HURTING
-
changjo misses ricky all the fucking time, and it’s been so long since ricky’s been in his arms, that changjo has forgotten what life felt like without the pain.
-
the silence is so painful --
the echoing, suffocating silence -
fuck it makes him so angry, makes him weep --
makes him fall to his knees in front of ricky’s grave, burying his face in his hands.
it feels so alien, heavy on his skin like drying blood, crying in front of ricky’s grave remembering the way ricky felt in his arms, the warmth that spread through his body like a forest fire, remembered how it felt to kiss ricky’s forehead, remembered the feeling of ricky’s pulse st-st-stuttering at every affectionate touch from him, and he remembers -- fuck, does he remember -- the way ricky looked at him.
(bleeding in the bathroom, smiling weakly --)
(“i love you.”)
(and fuck, changjo had always wanted to hear it, but never in that situation --)
(“i love you too.”)
(so much. i loved you so so much.)
that was the first time they had told each other they loved each other,
and for fuck’s sake, if he had known the last time that ricky would say he loved changjo, and the last time that changjo would say he loved ricky, was five minutes before the fucking crash --
dammit.
changjo would have told him he loved him more, would have took him in his arms, kissed him sweetly, soundly, lovingly, passionately -- fuck, fuck, fuck -- and he screams this sentiment to the sky --
he can’t live like this, can’t live without ricky, doesn’t know how to go on from this,
he loves ricky so much, it hurts him, pains him, he only hopes that ricky’s happy -- that ricky wasn’t in pain when he died -- hopes that it was as painless as possible --
-
he curls beside the grave that was once the boy who loved him, and he weeps for his loss.
his heart beats and beats, an aching funeral tune within his chest.
-
he stands there, tear-streaked and all.
the rain is falling hard outside of the hall where they leave the casket open.
it’s hours later that they need to lower it seven feet in the ground.
-
changjo cuddles ricky --
the smaller boy just laughs softly, melodically, pressing kisses against his jaw --
changjo just pulls him closer, arms wrapped around the other’s waist --
they’re supposed to be watching a movie, but neither of them are actually watching it,
all too focused on watching each other instead.
but it’s months later, when ricky’s gone, that he flips through the channels --
and fuck, he sees the movie, and he can’t stop the tears, just crying as he wraps the blanket around him tighter, wishes it were a noose around his neck --
he’s haunted by the memories of ricky smiling up at him,
pressing their smiles together, exchanging soft kisses in the dark, feather touches.
their figures only illuminated by the glow of the tv.
-
they had been coming home from dinner.
ricky was smiling -- fuck --
mid-smile --
a cute, gentle, smile --
the brightest smile --
a smile reserved just for him --
-
he’s starting to forget what ricky’s laughs sound like.
the way ricky would lean against him, nudge him with his knee.
the way ricky would hold his hand to calm him down.
he doesn’t want to forget.
he didn’t want ricky to die either.
we don’t always get what we want.
-
he just feels so lost.
he misses having ricky by his side, because ricky was home, and now he’s just a traveller.
a wanderer.
not all those who wander are lost.
but changjo surely is.
-
“forget all pretense.
ricky’s dead.
there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“you have to move on.”
“we’re sorry for your loss, but he wouldn’t have wanted this.”
how could you possibly know what ricky would have wanted?
“this isn’t healthy.”
“stop dwelling in the past.”
“let him go.”
fuck off.
-
as changjo downs another bottle of alcohol, he stares out the window.
he just wants to lie here, breathe in dust, choke maybe. he doesn’t want to get up for anything.
changjo hopes ricky remembers him happy. remembers him laughing. remembers him smiling.
he hopes that ricky won’t see him like this, at the bottom of a well, feeling nothing, and nothing, and nothing. is nothing.
-
“are you okay?”
he doesn’t spare any of his friends the truth.
why?
when they are not him --
not ricky --
“no.”
-
they said time will heal and time will mend.
liars.
-
he’s laying on the hospital bed.
flowers, cards, chocolates.
fine.
he’ll smile all they want, lopsided and teary.
if they gave him what he wanted.
(just give me what i want --
just give me ricky back --)
-
the funeral is on changjo’s birthday. happy birthday, you worthless piece of shit.
here, have the boy you love and a shiny casket to match.
-
it’s been two years.
irony has a way of biting him in the ass.
changjo thinks he just shouldn’t be in cars anymore.
he feels the life draining out of him slowly.
pitter, patter.
his eyes are starting to close.
the last thing he sees as he turns his head is… something light, something ephemeral.
someone iridescent.
his eyes close.
they don’t open.
-
you are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
you make me happy when skies are grey.
you’ll never know, dear.
how much i love you.
please don’t take my sunshine… away.