Reckless #41: Straight on 'til Morning [Part 1/2]
Title: Straight on ‘til morning
Rating: pg-13
Word Count: 16.5k
Warnings: [Click to see]smoking, mentions of domestic violence and homophobia, foul language
Summary: If lost, return to Do Kyungsoo.
Author's Note: Writing this was a rollercoaster, I’m telling you. I wanted to write something meaningful and relatable for this fest, and hopefully this piece will properly convey my intentions. Dear prompter, I hope I made your prompt justice! It caught my eye ever since I saw it. Dear beta, thank you for putting up with me and helping me push through. Dear readers, use your voice and love yourselves, and thank you for taking the time to read this fic. Dear mods, thank you for making this possible and being awesome. Enjoy! (P.S. yes, the title is a Peter Pan reference)
Kyungsoo dips the wooden spoon back into his favourite blue bowl as he chews on soggy Cheerios, stirring the sugary milk before scooping up some more cereal for his next mouthful, although it never leaves the bowl. The utensil sinks back into the milk when Kyungsoo lets go of it in favour of picking up his buzzing phone, splashing droplets of milk over the surface of the wooden table.
K. Jongin:
What do you call a bear with no teeth?
.
.
.
A gummy bear.
The pun is received with a huff and an eyeroll from Kyungsoo’s part, but within seconds he’s smiling because of course Jongin would text him whatever pun he thought of even if it was bad. This one is silly but he kind of likes it too because it’s innocent and cute and both are traits that the world lacks, whereas Jongin has too much of both.
His smile almost instantly fades upon realising that it’s 2 a.m. of a Wednesday and Jongin being awake this late on a weekday has never meant anything good before. Why would it be any different this time?
Kyungsoo:
Clever one. Shouldn’t you be in bed? It’s late.
K. Jongin:
I could ask you the same thing.
Was my pun so bad to make you want me away?
Kyungsoo sighs over his half-eaten bowl of cereal, his gaze drifting towards the cupboard at his right whose top drawer holds not only the cutlery but also a pack of filtered cigarettes. All he needs to do now is pull it open and stick his hand inside, retrieve the pack from the back and pop a cigarette in his mouth; one long drag from it and the pressure in his chest would be gone with a puff.
Kyungsoo:
Awful. It’s going to keep me up for days.
Where are you? Is everything alright?
Smoke. It spills from Kyungsoo’s mouth like water flowing from an open faucet, rising to the ceiling in white swirls of toxic chemicals that are slowly draining the life out of him. A light tap to the cigarette and ashes fall into the bowl, floating on the milk like the (unfortunate) survivors of a shipwreck struggling to stay afloat in the middle of the frozen ocean. A random thought that the Cheerios could be the lifesavers entertains him probably more than it should.
It’s his personal re-enactment of the sinking of the Titanic, where he’s heading towards his demise yet does nothing to change the course and save himself.
K. Jongin:
I’m fine. My throat felt dry so I went to grab some water.
Kyungsoo:
Are you home?
K. Jongin:
It’s two in the morning, where else would I be?
Why are you up?
Kyungsoo’s lips curl into a bitter smile as he takes one last drag from his cigarette, dropping the stub into the milk that the ashes have coloured grey. It stays afloat amidst the soggy donut shaped cereal and he can’t help but think of the amount of irony that this simple blue bowl holds; Cheerios, a cigarette stub, milk, ashes, Jongin’s text message, promises. Lies
Kyungsoo:
I’m having a midnight snack. Cheerios.
K. Jongin:
It’s way past midnight.
Kyungsoo:
Consider it an early breakfast, then.
Are you sure that everything’s good?
K. Jongin:
Absolutely.
If awards were given for poor judgement and best façade, Kyungsoo had no doubt that Jongin and he would take home one each. Though perhaps they could share them, since both seemed to be still adamant about making bad decisions and collecting lies despite being fully aware of the consequences they would bring and the way they would affect their lives and the people around them.
Hypocrite.
Who did he think he was, treating Jongin like an irresponsible child when he couldn’t go one day without smoking? When he had lied about attending weekly Narcotics Anonymous meetings despite having never set a foot there before? When he should’ve offered Jongin comfort and a shoulder to lean on instead of scolding him when he showed at his door with tears in his eyes and shame colouring his cheeks?
K. Jongin:
Hey, Kyungsoo…?
Seconds tick out and Kyungsoo is still waiting for the remainder of Jongin’s text to come in but it never does and he’s left to wonder what he’d been meaning to say and what could’ve deterred him from sending his message. Did he fall asleep?
Another five minutes go by and Kyungsoo sets down his phone at last, breathing out a frustrated sigh as he carries the bowl to the sink and dumps its contents in it, watching as the ashy milk goes down the drain but the cereal doesn’t and neither does the cigarette stub.
Sighing, he tosses the rest of the cigarettes into the sink and opens the tap, watching as they get soaked and turn into a lump of mushed paper and tobacco leaves. The clear water easily washes away the remnant milk and ashes but unfortunately it doesn’t do the same with the growing anxiety and guilt in Kyungsoo’s chest.
The urge to set himself on fire is strong, but instead he bends over the sink and pushes his head under the faucet to cool down the heat building inside him. One minute later he’s sitting on the kitchen floor with his back pressed against the door of the fridge and hair dripping heavily onto his clothes, his cold fingers curled around his phone in hopes that one last text from Jongin will come in.
But it doesn’t.
Somewhere at the other side of town, a boy stares at his phone screen and the pad of his thumb hovers over the send button, tired eyes flitting over the words he wrote for Kyungsoo but doesn’t dare say. There is so much he wants him to know but the conditions aren’t favourable for either of them and he fears what they might unleash.
Jongin changes his mind at the last second and hits the delete button instead, selecting yes when a dialogue box pops up asking if he’s sure about deleting the draft. He isn’t, but has he ever been certain of anything?
Jongin:
Hey, Kyungsoo…?
Yes. Kyungsoo is the one thing in his life that he’s entirely certain of- so why is he still hesitating to reach out to him and ask for help? He sets his phone away on the nightstand and situates himself on the right side of the double bed, leaving enough room for his boyfriend in case he decides to join him tonight although that’s very unlikely to happen.
Why is he still putting up with this, if he is unhappy? Kyungsoo has asked this question so many times that Jongin has grown tired of explaining over and over that he has nowhere else to go and his boyfriend isn’t that terrible all the time. He’s just difficult to deal with, especially when he has a bad day at work, but Jongin has learned how to handle him.
Keep his head down. Don’t ask any questions. Grit his teeth and blink back any tears that might pool in his eyes. Don’t think, don’t feel, don’t be here.
Kyungsoo wanted him to dump his partner’s sorry ass and start afresh and Jongin would’ve done that a long time ago if only he wasn’t absolutely terrified of being alone, or worse, of not being enough for anyone else. That’s what his boyfriend had made sure to remind him daily, whenever he saw an opening for delivering his cruel remarks.
A thud caused by a door closing and the clinking of keys alert Jongin of another presence and his ears perk up while he lies in bed, completely immobile, listening closely to every little noise that reverberates through the quiet apartment.
Muffled coughs. Bare feet dragging along the hallway. The creaking of the bedroom door when it’s pushed open. That’s when Jongin closes his eyes and holds his breath, hoping that his acting is convincing enough for him to pass as asleep and be spared from whatever fate is lurking around to pounce on him.
For a split of a second he thinks he’s been caught and will be scolded, but then a hand lands on his head and clumsy fingers ruffle his hair. The action should be soothing but Jongin knows better than to let his guard down in situations like this, especially when his boyfriend comes home drunk.
The man reeks of alcohol and smoke and a sweet perfume that Jongin’s unfamiliar with and the concoction of smells along with the unusual gentleness in his touch set off all the alarms in his head, and suddenly everything is red.
Red lights. Red flags. Red lipstick smeared on the collar of a white shirt. Red, staining a towel as he tended to his nosebleed after coming home half an hour later than usual and getting punished for it.
Red. Jongin’s least favourite colour.
His nostrils flare and acid crawls up his throat when the smell of alcohol intensifies and moist lips press against his own, but there is no affection in the kiss that tastes like benzene- the fake sweetness does little to conceal its underlying toxic nature and Jongin has drunk so much of it that the tiniest spark would be more than enough to make him burst into flames.
Take me away from here. Please.
The words Jongin has been meaning to tell Kyungsoo flash beneath his eyelids before he opens his eyes to face the monster that’s been poisoning him for almost a year and keeps on taking, never giving. This is his chance to fight back. Instead of gritting his teeth like he usually does, he opens his mouth and lets a single word roll off his numb tongue.
“No.”
Jongin’s vision goes red, like the roses on display at the flower shop across the street, and he relishes in the sight before he slips into a white haze.
White, like the shirt Kyungsoo was wearing the day they met.
It’s barely 6 a.m. when Kyungsoo’s phone comes alive and the melody he’s set as the ringtone puts an end to the peaceful quiet that reigned over the place for the past hours. Groaning, he rolls onto his back and pats around the nightstand for the device, picking it up once his fingers curl around it.
Five text messages and two missed calls greet him from the screen of his phone. All from Jongin, and none contains good morning wishes.
Kyungsoo chooses to forgo the texts and hits the call button as he sits up and scrambles out of bed, his vision still unfocused and heart thumping against his ribcage as anxiety and fear bubble up inside his chest, forcing him awake.
Jongin never texted him so early in the morning and it was no secret that he felt strongly against phone calls (he said they made him uncomfortable and awkward and he’d rather have a face-to-face conversation, if possible), thus the only explanation to this strange occurrence was that something bad had happened to him. Something very bad, otherwise he wouldn’t be so desperate to contact him.
His call gets rejected after three rings and Kyungsoo halts in his steps, a scowl setting on his face. Something isn’t right and he’s scared to find out that it might be already too late to jump into action. Not even ten seconds have passed since his unsuccessful attempt at reaching Jongin when a text message comes in and his phone buzzes in his hand.
K. Jongin:
Can you come outside?
Jongin’s cryptic text starts a flow of new questions that Kyungsoo is quick to disregard in favour of dashing to the front door and attempting to open it without having removed the lock first. A couple of expletives fall from his lips as he fetches the key and the door unlocks with a satisfactory click, although there’s hesitation in Kyungsoo’s movements as he pulls it open and takes a step into the hallway.
“Morning,” comes quietly from somewhere at Kyungsoo’s left and his gaze immediately drifts in that direction, his heart dropping to his stomach when he sees the state that Jongin’s in.
The clothes he’s wearing are wrinkled and dirty and Kyungsoo refuses to ponder over what those red stains on the hem might be. A glance at his face is enough to nearly have him dial the emergency number but he forces himself to breathe and not overreact, because that’s probably the last thing that Jongin needs right now.
He notices first the black eye, partially hidden beneath chunks of greasy blonde hair that have been obviously arranged to hide the bruise. Then he sees the crusted trail of dry blood coming out of Jongin’s right nostril and the red smeared over the back of his hand and knuckles and his stomach twists into a knot. He smells like sweat and looks like death and this whole situation is making Kyungsoo nauseated.
“What happened to you?”
Jongin exhales a bitter laugh and straightens up with some effort, clenching and unclenching his fists. “He hit me,” he pauses, “so I hit him back.”
Kyungsoo stands there, dumbstruck, until he snaps back into reality and moves aside to let Jongin in. There was nothing new about the bruises and the violence that Jongin was submitted to on almost a daily basis but the retaliation-that was new.
“Sit down,” Kyungsoo commands, although Jongin is already on his way to the couch. He curls up there, beat up and dirty, but he doesn’t get called out for it. “Don’t get up.”
“Won’t.”
With that Kyungsoo hurries into the kitchen and promptly fills a bowl with water and a glass with cold milk, setting them along with a clean cloth on a tray that he carries back to the living room and places on the coffee table. Instead of sitting beside Jongin, he pulls close a chair lying around and plops down there.
“How long did you wait out there?”
Jongin perks up upon hearing Kyungsoo’s voice and cuts a look over his shoulder at the tray before him, reaching out for the glass of milk as soon as his eyes fall onto it. Three long gulps later, the milk is gone and Kyungsoo’s heart is heavy with anguish.
“I’m not sure. It was still dark when I snuck out.”
“You what?” Kyungsoo frowns and takes the empty glass from Jongin’s bruised hands, setting it down onto the tray before scooting closer to the couch and dipping the cloth into the bowl. “Care to explain how you ended up like this?”
Jongin sits up straighter to make it easier for Kyungsoo to tend to him, dropping his gaze to his lap in embarrassment. “He came home drunk last night and he smelled different.”
“Different?”
“Sweeter,” Jongin clenches his fists and Kyungsoo gently uncurls his fingers with his free hand, using the other to carefully wipe off the dry blood clinging to Jongin’s skin. “It made me feel nauseated and when he started to make some advances on me I told him no. I confronted him and he hit me.”
“I asked if everything was fine and you said yes.”
Jongin flinches away instinctively when Kyungsoo raises a hand to fix his hair, dread flashing in his eyes when he sees something akin to pity and guilt casting a shadow in the latter’s rounder ones.
A cold, wrenching sensation coils in his gut and Jongin finds himself struggling to find his voice, the throbbing in his nose and the metallic taste of blood lying heavy on his tongue reminding him of why he seldom used it.
“Jongin…?”
Kyungsoo barely has time to draw his hand back before Jongin is curling into himself again and a bitter smile cuts across his bruised face, tears pooling in his bloodshot eyes and heartbreak painting his features. He will never be able to understand how he could hurt so badly over someone who had done nothing but tear him down and apart and stomp over his already shattered heart.
“He’s been fucking someone else,” he strains out, his fingers coming up to tangle themselves through dry, dull blonde hair. “A woman. He’s been fucking a woman while also fucking me.”
Where Kyungsoo is constantly burning, Jongin is drowning. There is always smoke in Kyungsoo’s lungs and water in Jongin’s eyes, and both are choking on broken dreams and mislead lives. Come one, come all and behold, the downfall of a bittersweet youth!
“He denied it at first. He called me delusional and a cockslut and said I was only trying to make him look bad. Then he started to break stuff and said he could stick his dick wherever he pleased. Want to hear what I did?”
“Jongin-”
Hysterical laughter has somehow bubbled amidst the frantic crying, but it’s coming out ragged and broken and Kyungsoo wants to make it stop. He wants to collect the pieces of Jongin’s heart and try to glue them back together, but there’s the possibility of further shattering the boy and he isn’t sure that he’s ready to run that risk.
Kyungsoo’s hands are rough and his touch is far from soothing; his fingertips are stained yellow due to the nicotine and his nails short from constantly biting them to relieve his stress and anxiety. There’s dry blood and dirt under Jongin’s nails too, and his dye job has gone unretouched for so long that dark roots have started to show.
“I kindly reminded him that he’s been sticking his dick up my ass for the past year. That’s when he hit me,” The laughing subsides and all noise dies out for a few seconds before Jongin resumes bawling, howls and laments falling from his lips as thick tears stream down his face and land on his stained, wrinkled shirt.
Drip drop. Kyungsoo’s seen less sorrow in funerals.
Jongin resists when Kyungsoo winds his arms around his shaking frame to hold him, his mind registering this action as foreign after being deprived from any sort of proper comfort for so long. He’d been tricked into believing that physical and verbal violence were normal in a relationship and love was nothing but an illusion that only the mediocre and stupid believed in.
”And you’re smarter than them, aren’t you? Yes. You’re a good boy, Jongin.”
Jongin’s bruised fingers curl around the plaid fabric of Kyungsoo’s worn pyjama shirt as he’s pulled closer and against his chest, allowing himself to be held and consoled despite feeling undeserving of such attentions. Of receiving love. Of Kyungsoo.
Kyungsoo’s arms are wound tight around Jongin’s body as he whispers words of reassurance and solace into his ear, wishing he could rid him of his pain as easily as he thumbed away his tears. Just one swipe across his cheek and they would be gone, until more came rolling down to replace them.
They keep falling, one after the other, like shooting stars.
THREE MONTHS AGO
“Jongin, I need two scoops of Dulce de Leche in a cone.”
Nothing.
“Jongin, are you there? Dulce de Leche in a cone, two scoops.” Kyungsoo cranes his neck to search for his co-worker, his eyebrows knitting together when he can’t find him. Where did that kid go?
He flashes a polite smile to the visibly annoyed woman waiting for her ice cream and steps away from the register to fulfil the order, apologising and bowing his head for the unexpected delay as he hands it over to the awaiting customer. He doesn’t even get a thank you but he knows better than to take it personal.
A familiar face pops up from behind the bathroom door and Kyungsoo shoots a questioning look at Jongin, folding his arms over his chest as the younger boy hurriedly makes his way back to his spot behind the counter.
“Sorry, I took a quick bathroom break.”
Kyungsoo remains silent for a moment, reaching out to fix the hat on Jongin’s head with a sigh, “Just make sure to inform me next time. Hey, what’s that on your neck?”
“Pardon me?” Jongin averts his gaze and pulls up the collar of his blue polo shirt although it does little to hide the dark spots located below his Adam’s apple.
“That thing-”
“What thing?”
“On your neck,” Kyungsoo leans in to take a better look at his co-worker’s neck, feeling as if a bucket of ice had been dumped onto him once he made out the shape of the bruises. Fingertips. Unmistakably so. “Jongin.”
“It’s nothing.”
Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from dragging Jongin into the backroom to confront him over the bruises marring his skin, because nothing good would come out of exposing him as a victim of an abusive relationship.
He might not be an expert on the subject but he wasn’t blind either, and he’d seen enough signs of it already to pretend not to have any suspicions about the unfortunate situation that Jongin might be dealing with at home.
It wasn’t only in the bruises peeking from under his sleeves or the collar of his shirt. It was in the way Jongin would jump whenever he was approached unannounced or how even the slightest touch would make him squirm and shrink into himself, fear flashing in his eyes before it vanished within seconds-just like the smoke of the cigarettes that Kyungsoo promised he’d quit.
“Take your break now, Jongin,” Kyungsoo muses after a moment of silently studying his young co-worker, motioning towards the empty tables. “It’s a slow day. I’ll call you if I need a hand.”
“But-”
Kyungsoo shakes his head and offers Jongin a small smile, stepping back into place as a new customer walks in, “Have a scoop of ice cream and come back in ten. It’s on me.”
It’s past 10 p.m. when Kyungsoo’s phone rings, Jongin’s name flashing on the screen with an alarming urgency that sends a cold shiver down his spine.
It wasn’t unusual for him to receive random texts from his co-worker asking for his schedule or just to say hi, but this was the first time that he got an actual phone call. He immediately picks up upon recalling the incidents from that morning, praying to whoever dwells up there that Jongin is all right.
He isn’t.
Kyungsoo forces him to sit down and stay put while he gets him a glass of water, leaning over the sink as he tries to compose himself. He tries to blink away the sight of a frightened Jongin but it lingers-it clings to his pupils and tugs at the strings of his heart, clogging up his throat with raw emotion.
When he comes back and finds Jongin pacing about, face still pale and gaze unfocused, he knows that he can’t keep silent about this whole situation. Not when Jongin showed up at his place looking like this, when he could be in danger at home.
“Jongin,” he calls with the softest voice he can manage as he approaches the younger boy and stands before him to cut his pacing. “Let’s take a seat, shall we?”
Jongin hesitates at first but doesn’t protest, waddling over to the couch where he plops back down with a sigh. Kyungsoo follows, carefully setting the glass onto the coffee table before shifting to face his distressed co-worker and friend.
Friend.
Could he call him that? Had he earned the right the lay that label upon him? Considering that Jongin had willingly come here to seek shelter when he could’ve gone anywhere else, Kyungsoo concludes that yes. He could call him a friend.
“I’m sorry I came unannounced, and so late at night,” Jongin starts, forcing a somewhat nervous smile across his face. “Thank you for not making me go home.”
“You wouldn’t be here if you wanted to be there, or if you could go back.” Kyungsoo bites his lower lip, hesitating briefly before voicing out the rest of his thoughts. “But you can’t. Am I right?”
The younger boy slumps into the cushion with a shaky sigh, tipping his head back as he directs his gaze upwards and rakes his eyes over the expanse of the ceiling. He traces invisible maps and connects invisible dots and Kyungsoo waits, but after a whole minute of heavy silence Jongin still doesn’t seem to have found what he’s been searching for.
“It’s lonely there.”
Kyungsoo frowns, “You live with someone else, right? Your significant other.” Boyfriend.
“Yeah, but he isn’t home. He went out.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know,” Jongin admits, toeing off his shoes before pulling his feet onto the couch and wrapping his arms around his legs. “I never ask about his whereabouts. He doesn’t like it.”
“Jongin-”
“He says that trust is the base of any successful relationship and thus I shouldn’t question him about the things he does and says.” Jongin runs a hand through his blonde hair and gulps, his eyes glazing over as his fingertips glide over the bruises below his Adam’s apple. “But I did.”
“What happened?”
Jongin smiles sadly as rests his chin atop his knees, and when he wiggles his toes Kyungsoo notices at last that he isn’t wearing any socks. “I just asked if he’d be coming back in time for dinner of if he would be eating outside. That was all.”
“The bruises on your neck… Did he do them?”
“He apologised!” Kyungsoo flinches back at Jongin’s sudden loudness, pink dusting the latter’s cheeks and ears as shame takes over once realisation hits him. “He explained that he didn’t mean to hurt me and promised to never do it again. He said he loved me and that he forgave my mishap.”
Oh boy. Kyungsoo doesn’t even know where to start because nothing that Jongin said makes any sense. Would this be the right time to address the elephant in the room? It’s no easy task and there’s no way of knowing what Jongin’s reaction will be, but this is a risk he’s willing to take.
He’d rather be yelled at for speaking out the truth, even if it’s an unpleasant one, than being haunted by the weight of guilt and regret of thousands of words left unsaid.
Ignorance is bliss. Says who? Because he can’t see any smiling faces around.
Knowledge is power. Well, Kyungsoo would want to see Sir Francis Bacon say that to Jongin’s face without choking on his words. Oh, but Sir Francis isn’t here, so it’s his duty to speak up and grant Jongin the power to break free from the chains holding him back.
“Jongin,” he starts, careful. “That is not love.”
Jongin’s expression slowly contorts into one of displeasure, all traces of fright vanishing as he narrows his eyes warily and shifts away from Kyungsoo. “What do you know about love? You’re single, and who knows for how long you’ve been already.”
The harshness of Jongin’s words strikes a chord within Kyungsoo and he falls silent, trying not to react to the taunt nor to succumb to the reminder of how hopeless he is. The streak of failed relationships he’s accumulated throughout the years suggests that no one wants to keep him for good but hey, at least he doesn’t have to put up with the crap that Jongin lives every day.
“Better alone than in bad company, don’t you think?”
There’s a subtle bite in his words that doesn’t go unnoticed to Jongin, whose offensive posture shifts into a defensive one and Kyungsoo is oh, so satisfied with the effect his words had on the other boy. He means no harm, but he isn’t going to let Jongin step over him either.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kyungsoo shrugs, “It means exactly what you’re thinking. A picture is worth a thousand words and the bruises I’ve seen on your arms and neck and the fear in your eyes have given you away. I’m not blind, you know?”
The silence that follows is thick, albeit not heavy enough to suffocate Kyungsoo’s words that linger and cling to Jongin’s eardrums, crawling under his skin and coiling around his throat like cold claws. Another moment goes by and Jongin stands up from the couch, not sparing a single glance at Kyungsoo as he strides over to the door and curls his fingers around the knob.
“Had I known that you wouldn’t be of any help, I would’ve never come here.”
Bingo. Kyungsoo sits up straighter, his throat feeling suddenly dry. He’s craving a smoke.
“So, you came here looking for help. My help, to be exact.”
Jongin freezes upon hearing this statement, unable to deny it because Kyungsoo is right and that’s exactly the reason he came here out of all places-because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, even though this is his first time at Kyungsoo’s.
Maybe he should’ve taken a minute or two to think this over, ponder if he was being reasonable by showing up at his shift manager’s door whilst in the middle of a mental breakdown.
“Jongin,” Kyungsoo calls from the couch, having taken note of the younger boy’s hesitation to leave. Now he needs to find a way to make him stay and that’s probably the hardest part, but he ought to try. “I’m worried about what could happen to you if you go back.”
“Nothing will happen to me, you’re just being dramatic.” Jongin glances over his shoulder in the direction of the couch, instinctively shrinking into himself under Kyungsoo’s accusing gaze. “He loves me and he promised to never lay a finger on me again and I believe him.”
“Oh, I rather be dramatic than blind.” There it is. Kyungsoo could stop right now but he chooses to continue, because Jongin can’t keep on pretending not to be living a nightmare. “Both of us know that this isn’t the first time that he’s hurt you and it won’t be the last, either. You came here seeking shelter so please, let me help you.”
It’s past 11 p.m. now and Kyungsoo’s coffee has gone cold from sitting unattended for too long, and his heart beats a bit faster with every second that ticks out.
“I don’t like your ways of helping,” Jongin says at last, his voice quiet and loaded with resentment although it isn’t directed at Kyungsoo but rather the fact that he’s right and he refuses to admit it. “You’re rude.”
“You’re in denial.” A heavy sigh falls from Kyungsoo’s lips when he realises the negative impact that those three words could have on Jongin. He’s supposed to make things better instead of worse. “Listen, here’s the deal. You-”
“I’m going home.” The younger boy announces, running his free hand through his bleached hair as he turns to face Kyungsoo and leans against the door with a huff. He’s struggling with something, that much is clear, but it’s impossible to know what’s going on in that blonde head of his. “Can I…can I come by again?”
The unexpected question takes Kyungsoo aback and draws a gasp from his lips. his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. His expression must’ve changed dramatically because regret immediately contorts Jongin’s features and his Adam’s apple bobs when he gulps.
Kyungsoo opens his mouth to speak up before everything starts going downhill but his brain and body aren’t in proper sync yet, thus Jongin easily beats him to it.
“It’s completely understandable if you don’t want me here, though, because you already put up with me at work almost every day,” Jongin breathes out a strained chuckle and continues talking after a dismissing wave of his hand. “I just thought I’d ask anyway because I get lonely at home and you’re actually nice to be around, and…”
“And?” Kyungsoo softly presses on, his heart racing in anticipation.
“I like it here. Well, no, that’s not quite true.” Another pause follows but this time Kyungsoo lets Jongin find the end of the sentence on his own instead of signalling his cue to resume talking. “What I mean is that I feel safe around you. There.”
Kyungsoo has no words. Jokes between them weren’t uncommon after having worked together for almost six months but this felt still too big for the current state that their friendship was in, although Jongin seemed to have grown to trust Kyungsoo. Asking to be taken off the list seemed rude now, especially considering the situation that Jongin was in and probably didn’t have many friends to rely on.
“It’s the first time in my life that I hear such a thing.”
Surprisingly, Jongin pulls a smile that’s heavy at the corners and too tight to be genuine. “It’s also the first time in my life I’ve sought this kind of help.”
Kyungsoo’s heartbeat falters.
“Don’t mind that,” says Jongin with a smile that’s meant to be reassuring but comes out crooked and unsteady. “I should get going. It’s late.”
This is the last notice before the train leaves the station and if Kyungsoo doesn’t hurry he’ll miss it, and then it’ll be gone forever. He decides to take a leap of faith and try to catch it.
“Listen, I don’t know how much of a help I can be to you because I’m no hero-hell, I’m not even a good friend, but I won’t turn you away.”
Jongin shifts, rolling his lower lip between his teeth as he tips his head back and rests it against the door. “I didn’t come here looking for a hero, because I don’t need one.”
“What do you need from me, then?”
“A reason,” Jongin croaks out, cheeks colouring red and fingers threading through blonde hair, tugging at the roots. “I need a reason.”
Kyungsoo needs answers to the endless questions popping in his head, but he’ll let it pass this time because he knows better than to demand from Jongin what he can’t give. That’d be like trying to light a fire underwater, or like standing in the middle of the desert waiting for the rain to fall.
He’ll let Jongin own his secrets a bit longer, and wait until they spill. Then he’ll catch them all in his hands or die trying.
”I did not know how to reach him how to catch up with him… The land of tears is so mysterious.”
-Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
PRESENT DAY
“Hey, where are you going?” Jongin asks when Kyungsoo suddenly gets up from the couch and saunters down the hall, returning a few seconds later holding the phone to his left ear and his free hand tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you a day off.”
“Why?
Kyungsoo looks in the younger boy’s direction, lolling his head as he walks past the couch and ruffles a head of blonde locks that once looked lovely, that much he recalls. They’re now brittle and dull, and Jongin could use a nice haircut and a dye job.
“There is no way that you’re showing up to work after what you went through last night,” Kyungsoo explains in a nonchalant tone, walking into the small kitchen where he starts making coffee and instant noodles. “Today’s my day off, too. Why don’t you go wash up while I finish this? It’ll probably be ready when you come back.”
A million questions pop in Jongin’s head when he receives a smile from behind the kitchen counter but he swallows them back down, nodding instead as he obediently lifts his tired body from the couch and trudges down the hall-but then stops and turns on his heels again, front teeth tugging at his lower lip.
“It doesn’t feel right to ask for more when you’ve done so much for me already but could I borrow some clothes? I’ll wash them myself before giving them back, I promise.”
Time slows down and a knot forms in Kyungsoo’s throat as he stirs the noodles, trying to buy himself some time by tasting the broth. He turns around at last after taking a deep breath and rakes his eyes down the younger boy’s body, the whole 182 cm of it.
How could Kyungsoo deny him the only thing he’s requested within the hour he’s spent at his place? It’s been almost three months since Jongin started crashing at his place at night to escape from the nightmare he’s been calling life, and Kyungsoo has grown so fond of him that Jongin could ask for the moon and he’d launch himself into space and bring it to him, wrapped up in a red ribbon.
“Absolutely. Take anything you need.”
That’s exactly what Jongin does, and when he returns ten minutes later he’s wearing some plain white tee and grey sweatpants that are a tad loose around the thighs but fit him perfectly otherwise. His skin is dewy and rosy from being scrubbed to get the dry blood and sweat off it and his hair is damp, and the moment he steps into the kitchen Kyungsoo catches a whiff of his own cologne.
L’Homme. Yves Saint Laurent.
The combination of citrus and wood for the top and base notes respectively, mixed with hints of violet and ginger, go well with Kyungsoo’s natural musk but it’s a tad intense and strong for someone as young and fragile as Jongin. Something softer would suit him better.
Smiles are exchanged as Jongin takes a seat at the table and Kyungsoo can’t help but laugh when both reach for the creamer at the same time and their hands meet halfway. What a cliché situation.
“You’re always so kind to me,” Jongin says as he dumps creamer and sugar into his cup, stirring the coffee before bringing it to his lips for a taste test. “I don’t know how to pay you back for all the attentions.”
“I’m not expecting you to. We’re friends, right? Friends support each other.”
A minute or two are spent in silence while they dig into their food at last, the sounds of slurping and clanking filling the small kitchen. They’ve had dinner together plenty of times already, but never had they shared breakfast before.
Despite his reserved nature and not being a morning person at all, Kyungsoo doesn’t find Jongin’s presence to be invasive-rather, he’s enjoying this rare moment of bonding that they’re sharing.
“What are you going to do now?” He asks after another minute, reaching over for his cup of coffee.
“I’ll go home, of course.” Jongin says, unable to hold back a chuckle upon seeing the shock over Kyungsoo’s face. “My real home. You see, my mother insisted that I waited until I turned twenty-one to move out but my father… well, let’s say that he was thrilled that the little faggot was finally taking his homosexuality somewhere else, away from his fragile masculinity.”
It doesn’t make sense. Why would Jongin walk right into the dragon’s lair after having barely gotten out alive from his last battle?
“He died last summer from a heart attack. My mother has been begging me to come back ever since but I was too stupid and blind to see what was really going on with my own life.” A pause. Then, a sigh falls from Jongin’s glazed lips and Kyungsoo fights the urge to reach out and touch his face. “I’m awake now.”
That doesn’t mean that the nightmare is finally over for Jongin. The scars and bruises that he’s collected throughout the past year - they blossom on his skin like withering flowers- might heal within days or weeks, but the words that have dented his heart and crushed his soul will take longer to vanish.
Kyungsoo fears many things, although he seldom voices them out. Instead, he’s resorted to drown them with smoke, inhaling cigarette after cigarette to kill them or at least scare them away for an hour or two. Right now, he’s scared that Jongin might have a relapse and slip into another nightmare-a more terrifying one he can’t escape from, where he wouldn’t be able to follow him.
“How’s it going?”
Kyungsoo sits up straighter and looks up from his half-eaten bowl, “How’s what going?”
“You know… the thing with the cigarettes.” Jongin replies warily, eyeing Kyungsoo through his eyelashes. “There’s a faint smell of smoke floating around.”
Now it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to become shy and embarrassed when he gets questioned about his own addiction, but he doesn’t deny it. Making up excuses would be immoral, too, so he decides to own up to it and come clean about the lies he’s been telling Jongin. He owes him the truth.
“I had one last night, then threw away the ones left.” Kyungsoo explains, clearing his throat before telling the rest. He doesn’t dare look at Jongin. “I never signed up for any Narcotics Anonymous meetings and I’ve been smoking behind your back, all while scolding you for not standing up to your douche boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Jongin corrects without missing a beat, biting down on his lower lip as he slumps into the seat. “I’m leaving him. And I’ve known all that for some time already, that you haven’t quit smoking.”
“How?”
Jongin’s head lolls to one side and his bleached hair falls over his bruised eye, that’s starting to swell up. “Your chapped lips. Your stained fingertips. The bags under your eyes. All of you. I’m not blind, Kyungsoo.”
Kyungsoo breathes out a nervous chuckle as he leans forward, folding his arms over the table. Jongin shrugs a shoulder and reaches for his cup of coffee, gulping down the remnants of the drink. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Of course I did, I’m more observant that most people think.” Jongin smiles again, but it’s then that he happy façade he’d been holding up for the past minutes finally breaks down and his eyes fill with a new wave of hot, thick tears. “Then why couldn’t I see past his lies that he adorned with pretty words and excuses? Why did I let myself be fooled by his apologies? When did I start sinking so low, Kyungsoo?”
Sinking. The Titanic. A cigarette stub floating amidst soggy Cheerios and the ashes staining the milk grey. Maybe there’s still time to change the course of the ship, to avoid the iceberg and thus save them both.
He’s no hero nor a lifesaver, but he can swim and he won’t let Jongin drown, just like Jongin refuses to let him choke up on smoke. They’re clinging to each other like a lifeline, holding onto their last thread of hope that lies within each other’s obsessions and addictions-and Kyungsoo thinks he finally understands what Jongin meant back then by asking him not to save him, but rather give him a reason.
A reason to push through another day, even if life continuously tried to bring him down.
A reason to come back every night, even if he got scolded for keeping his head down instead of standing his ground against his abuser.
A reason to stay alive.
Hadn’t Jongin given Kyungsoo plenty of reasons to wake up every morning, too? The smoke made Jongin sick, thus Kyungsoo had started opening the windows to let in the sunlight and the breeze to sweep away the remnants of it clinging to his walls and his pillow. (He’d even purchased a honeysuckle air freshener.)
He might’ve not signed up for any NA meetings, but he’d gone from smoking a cigarette pack a day to having just two or three before bed, after Jongin had bid him goodnight and reluctantly walked out the door. Jongin was feeble, so Kyungsoo had shaped himself up to be nearly unbreakable.
“You know what they say,” Kyungsoo muses after a moment of quiet from his part, glancing over at the box of Cheerios he forgot to return to the cupboard last night and left by the sink. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Jongin smiles amidst his tears, looking up at Kyungsoo with glazed eyes and a runny nose, “Except jumping off a bridge. That would kill anyone.”
“Good thing it isn’t among my plans, then.”
“Smoking kills, too,” comes right afterwards and Kyungsoo’s smile falters, but then Jongin reaches across the table to touch the back of his hand with wet, trembling fingertips. “Please.”
Kyungsoo’s round eyes widen in shock when they land on Jongin as he trudges into the ice cream shop on Tuesday morning, just in time to clock in for his shift. He halts amidst mopping the floor to rub his eyes and make sure that they aren’t deceiving him but Jongin is right there, despite Kyungsoo’s insistence for him to take another day off. What a stubborn kid.
The coy smile adorning the boy’s face is a rare sight, but the biggest shock comes when Jongin takes off his hat to reveal a headful of rich chocolate locks that no longer cover his eyes when they fall across his forehead.
It’s as if a curtain has been lifted at last and the main act was finally unveiled, and it’s one where Jongin is standing at the centre of the stage like a proud primo uomo, and Kyungsoo is lucky enough to have front row seats. The show must go on and Jongin is coming through.
“I want to be angry at you for showing up when you should be resting but look at you!” Kyungsoo exclaims with a smile, gesturing at the flustered boy standing before him. “You already give off a completely different vibe just from changing your hair. You look...”
Free. Alive. Happy. Is Kyungsoo allowed to say these things? Jongin looks beautiful, too, but he decides to save that one for himself. Maybe someday he’ll be brave enough to share these thoughts with Jongin, but today is not that day.
“You look good. The colour suits you well.”
Jongin beams at him, elated by the compliments he’s getting solely from undergoing a simple hair transformation. He, too, feels like a new person.
“My mother insisted. She said that trying new things would be good for me, to get me out of my slump. I was hesitant because I’d grown used to being blond but then I thought, why not? What have I got to lose?”
Nothing. Up is the only way one can go after hitting rock bottom, right?
“I think you might be making us lose money by standing there, though, so hurry and get to work.” Kyungsoo’s tone is playful and his teasing is well taken by Jongin, whose lower lip juts out as he rolls his eyes and moves to take his place behind the register. “Let me know if you need a break, yes?”
“I don’t need a break,” Jongin starts, though he’s forced to pause when a customer walks in and he gets caught in putting together a sundae. Then the customer leaves and it’s just the two of them again (there’s still an hour left until the rest of the staff comes in), and Jongin beckons Kyungsoo over to the counter once the latter has finished cleaning. “I do have a favour to ask.”
Kyungsoo has been waiting for this moment, where he’s assumed that Jongin will ask for the moon and the stars and all the gold and precious stones in earth at last, and he feels a new kind of thrill bubbling inside him as he waits for the brunette to voice his request.
Jongin doesn’t ask for any of those extravagant things, but Kyungsoo can’t find any valid reason to complain when he gets dragged across the street once his shift is over and he’s shoved into the passenger seat of an old baby blue Ford pick-up truck.
It’s a 1994 model that used to belong to his late father, Jongin informs proudly as he buckles up and revs up the engine, rolling down his window to let in the cool night breeze since the vehicle didn’t come with a built-in air conditioner.
Sam Smith’s ‘Life Support’ plays on the radio as they drive and both sing along to it, the lights of other cars and street lamps becoming blurry blobs of colour as Jongin speeds past them. It’s only when the song is over and silence reigns again that Kyungsoo realises that he doesn’t know where they’re going.
His confusion grows when they pull up outside a convenience store and Jongin kills the engine, flashing him an enigmatic smile when he turns to face him, “Sorry, I just remembered that my mother asked me to get her some groceries on my way back.”
Kyungsoo hops off the truck after unbuckling his seatbelt then trails after Jongin, but decides to wait outside the store instead of following him inside. The withdrawal symptoms are starting to kick in and this is a battle that he needs to fight on his own, just like Jongin stood up against his ex-boyfriend and punched back.
The nicotine patches have been helping him cope with the headaches and nausea, but he still feels restless and jittery and maybe he shouldn’t have had those three cups of coffee before leaving for work. Sighing, he leans against the wall and closes his eyes, trying his best to block out all sounds around him.
He inhales in four seconds, holds his breath for seven and exhales in eight, then repeats the cycle three more times until the violent red flashing beneath his eyelids becomes a soothing blue. Blue, like the cloudless sky in a warm summer morning. Blue, like his favourite bowl. Blue, like Jongin’s pick-up truck.
“Mission accomplished. What are you doing?”
Kyungsoo opens his eyes and turns to his left, where Jongin is standing beside him holding a plastic bag in a hand while slurping on what seems to be a milkshake with his head slightly lolled to one side. He finds amusing that the beverage in his hand almost matches the colour of his hair
“Nothing,” says Kyungsoo as he straightens up and brushes invisible dust off his shirt, still eyeing Jongin’s milkshake. “What are you drinking?”
“I think it’s called brownie batter or something. It’s basically an unhealthy amount of chocolate stuff blended together. Want some?”
“We work together at an ice cream shop where we sell milkshakes. This is treason,” Kyungsoo teases with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head to decline the offering, but then he changes his mind and leans in to take a sip. It’s cold, thick, and sweeter than any milkshake Kyungsoo’s ever had and-did Jongin add an extra pump of chocolate syrup?
“Guess you aren’t that devoted to your job either, huh.” Jongin declares with an amused smile, not even bothering to wipe the tip of the straw before taking a sip himself. Kyungsoo starts walking back to the truck but a hand on his elbow stops him, gently pulling him away from the vehicle and down the street. “Let’s go for a walk.”
And that’s exactly what they do. They for chat a bit over a bag of chips while they saunter down the dimly lit street, and Jongin nearly drops his milkshake when he spots a fluffy Samoyed puppy walking in their direction with a short-haired girl in her teens in tow.
Kyungsoo and the girl exchange polite smiles as they walk past each other and Jongin coos and waves at the puppy the best he can manage, a happy sigh falling from his lips as they go on their merry way. Kyungsoo is feeling well again, and he mentally gives himself a congratulatory pat on the back for successfully overcoming the withdrawal symptoms without having a meltdown in public.
“Can you hold this for me, please?” Jongin asks when they come to a halt after another five minutes once they reach a quieter part of town, handing Kyungsoo his plastic cup for him to be able to rummage through the plastic bag.
Kyungsoo doesn’t know what Jongin’s looking for but he doesn’t ask either, sipping at the sweet beverage in the meantime while glancing around the area. They’re standing in front of a book store that seems to have been closed for months, guarded by a nearly empty coffee shop at its right and an apartment complex situated at its left, and he also counts five cars parked on the street.
The sight that greets him when he returns his attention to Jongin is bonkers. The younger boy leans his upper body backwards as he swings his right arm and then does a powerful throw, and Kyungsoo watches in slow-motion as an egg flies across the air and crashes against the window of the apartment above the book store.
He witnesses in a stunned silence as half a dozen of innocent eggs (that Jongin’s mother surely planned to use for breakfast or maybe to bake a cake) become yellow slime and egg shell debris on the glass pane. Jongin is flustered and panting beside him and his facial muscles are contorted into an outraged expression, one that Kyungsoo had never seen on him-until right now, that is.
“Jongin, what the actual fuck?” Kyungsoo breathes out through gritted teeth, the blood draining from his face as he frantically looks around to make sure that no one is calling the police. “Could you please explain what-”
The window slides open and the flushed face of a fuming man appears, his eyes briefly scanning the street before they land on the young men standing on the sidewalk. Kyungsoo whimpers, mortified. This man could be in his early thirties and he doesn’t seem to be in a good mood, but Jongin manages to remain impassive while they hold each other’s gaze; the man is squinting and his nostrils are flaring and Kyungsoo fears that he might pop a vein or two, whereas Jongin’s stance is defiant, unshakable.
There’s no need for him to ask about the man’s identity, for Kyungsoo knows exactly who he is even though this is their first (and probably last) encounter.
“Watch this.”
Time slows down once more when Jongin snatches the milkshake from Kyungsoo’s hand and takes a few steps backwards, a hint of a grin playing on his face as he removes the lid from the plastic cup and dumps the remainder of its contents unto the hood of the silver car parked behind them.
The man-Jongin’s douche ex-boyfriend-barely manages to duck the empty plastic cup thrown his way, and Kyungsoo’s initial dread morphs into mild amusement as the brunette flips him off with both hands. He can’t bring himself to care anymore about getting caught or to feel bad about the man’s car when this is the least that the bastard deserves for putting someone as selfless and loving as Jongin through hell.
Fuelled by the thrill of giving the abuser a taste of his own medicine and make him pay for the things he did, Kyungsoo brings his hands up to cup his mouth as he sucks in a breath and then shouts cheater while also making eye contact with the astonished man.
He shouts loud enough to attract the attention of the people in the coffee shop and across the street towards them and, hopefully, this spectacle would give the neighbours an insight about the man’s monstrous true nature that he carefully conceals to lure in his victims.
Moreover, he wants him to know that Jongin isn’t alone.
“What are you doing? Come on, let’s go!”
One minute Kyungsoo is flashing Jongin’s former lover a triumphant smile as curious people start coming out of the coffee shop and stopping by to gauge the situation, and the next thing he knows is that he’s being dragged away from the commotion and down the street in the direction where they came from.
At some point throughout their frantic race they come across a red light that forces them to stop, and Jongin uses this small break to slide his hand into Kyungsoo’s as they work on catching their breaths. The action is sudden and unexpected but Kyungsoo welcomes it nonetheless, giving Jongin’s hand a squeeze to reassure him that this is okay and he doesn’t want him to let go.
No one is chasing them but they’re still running high on adrenaline and a brownie batter milkshake-induced sugar rush, hence they end up sprinting all the way back to the convenience store to grab a drink before Jongin finally drives Kyungsoo home.
There they come across the cashier getting interrogated by an officer regarding the whereabouts of the owner of the pick-up truck parked outside, and now it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to drag Jongin back to the vehicle and urge him to hurry up and drive off into the night in between giggles.
Part 2