(for jonginsomniac) Concentric Circles
For: jonginsomniac
Title: Concentric Circles
Pairings: Kai/D.O.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,920
Summary: Jongin and Kyungsoo parted ways months ago; but the ties that bind them run so deep and so strong that it’s hard to let go.
Author’s Note: To my recipient, I hope this isn't too far from what you wanted. It was a pleasure writing for you and I hope you will like this at least a little <3
“Even painful memories are ties that bind.”
― Milan Kundera, Farewell Waltz
Swipe, swipe. Mindlessly, Jongin watches the circular, sweeping movements his hand makes as it goes over the already glossy plane of the coffee table. The sharp odor of lemon Pledge pricks unpleasantly at his nostrils and makes his eyes water but the repetitive polishing helps keep his mind off more painful things.
The house phone rings and he ignores it. His hands are slick from the wood polish and his heart is worn paper-thin; there just isn't a single tattered shred of energy left in him to deal with whoever might be calling so he lets it ring unanswered.
Swipe, swipe. He's starting to zone out again when the answering machine comes on. "Hi, we can't come to the phone right now but we'll call you back if you leave your name and number." It's nothing but a simple, impersonal message but the midnight velvet voice slips effortlessly through the razor thin crevices in the walls he's erected. The voice penetrates Jongin's senses and permeates them - abruptly flooding his empty mind with images of the face the voice belongs to. Jongin tries to stem the flow but the seeds have been planted and they take root and his mind explodes with flashbacks of the day they'd recorded that message ...
"You do it." Kyungsoo said, staring at the answering machine like it was about to grow horns and attack him.
"You know I can't speak to machines." Jongin wrapped his arms around his lover's narrow waist, nuzzling his face in Kyungsoo's shoulder.
"I can't either." Kyungsoo snorted.
"But you sound more professional and I mumble," Jongin said persuasively as he nibbled on the pale earlobe that had been tempting him for the past ten minutes.
"You're ... cheating." Kyungsoo complained.
"So you'll do it?" He kissed a smile onto Kyungsoo's sensitive nape. Twisting around, Kyungsoo growled, "I hate you, Kim Jongin!" just before he dragged Jongin closer and captured his lips in a lingering, seductive kiss. Kyungsoo's mouth tasted like the Cola he'd been drinking just minutes earlier and Jongin loved the way it tasted on his tongue. They collapsed breathlessly onto the sofa and as their bodies fell into each other's, Jongin gazed into the whiskey brown depths of Kyungsoo's eyes. Tenderly, his index finger traced the generous curves of Kyungsoo's lips, "I love your voice the best," Jongin said, lowering his head to kiss him ...
A dull ache throbs in the core of Jongin's chest in the wake of that all-too-vivid memory he'd thought so deeply embedded it would never surface again. It takes him a while to tuck those moments away again but Jongin somehow manages. Swipe, swipe. He forces his hand to resume polishing the chestnut wood of the coffee table until the surface is a glassy mirror - completely smooth and perfect, marred only by two solitary spheres of salty liquid.
It's been 99 days.
Jongin rams the last bite of toast into his mouth and brings his cornflower blue dish and daffodil yellow coffee mug to the sink. The colors are so vibrant they hurt his eyes (and maybe his soul). As he turns on the tap, his eyes wander and settle on a vanilla colored mug in the deep recesses of the shelf where the cups are kept.
In black handwriting font, the letters spell out: I envy the coffee cup that gets to kiss your lips awake every cold and bitter morning. Jongin's never noticed it there before today, and it hurts him more than he can say that Kyungsoo's left it behind. If Kyungsoo had taken it with him, he could at least pretend that he'd wanted to keep a piece of Jongin with him. But there the mug lies, half-hidden in the corner, taunting him. He reaches out and takes it, stares into the circular mouth of the mug and remembers ...
Kyungsoo had burst into laughter when Jongin had first presented him with that mug at breakfast one morning. Reading the slogan, he'd laughed, then scolded Jongin for being the corniest person alive. Ignoring his mirth, Jongin had placed his hands on his narrow waist and lifted him up onto the countertop. As Kyungsoo sat on the edge of the countertop, he'd chuckled, "You are the cheesiest fuck, Jongin," and Jongin had replied, "Shh, let me be your coffee cup, Do Kyungsoo." And he'd silenced Kyungsoo's delighted laughter with a teasing kiss which had escalated into something darker and more passionate as Kyungsoo wrapped his legs around Jongin's waist and pulled him closer. As Jongin licked the edges of Kyungsoo's jaw and gently nipped his earlobe, Kyungsoo had groaned, "We're going to be so fucking late for work." Taking that as their cue, Jongin's fingers had deftly unbuckled the slim, black leather belt and unzipped his fly.
"Careful not to wrinkle my trousers," Kyungsoo had gasped as Jongin's fingers encircled his half hard cock. "No promises," Jongin's voice was raspy with desire and he watched with satisfaction as Kyungsoo's knuckles turned white from gripping the counter so hard. "Oh God." Kyungsoo's moaned as Jongin's lips glided slowly over his cock, and his fingers tangled shakily in Jongin's lustrous dark hair - gripping and tugging in time to the erotic movements of Jongin's mouth ...
They'd called in sick in the end and spent most of the day in bed. That night, as the room lay blanketed in opaque onyx shadows, Jongin had placed his lips against the warm ivory of Kyungsoo's neck and whispered against his skin, "Am I your coffee cup, Soo?"
"Yes, Jongin, you are. Every morning of every day, you are." There had been more than a slight catch in Kyungsoo's voice and then his lips were moving desperately over Jongin's - his tongue probing the warm honeyed depths of his mouth.
With impatient hands and eager mouths, they'd tattooed their love onto each other's bodies, and Jongin's fists had curled tightly around the dove gray bedsheets as Kyungsoo pushed into him and moved, eyes closed, entering him over and over again in a steady, driving rhythm. Eventually, it was Kyungsoo who climaxed first but it was only seconds later when Jongin hurtled over the edge with him. Kyungsoo had sunk bonelessly onto the hard strength of Jongin's chest so they could feel each other's wild hearts beating fast, so fast, like they were trying to outrun each other.
After marking the pale cinnamon skin of his lover's neck with rose-tinted impressions, Kyungsoo had looked up at Jongin and said, in a voice threaded with emotion, "You'll always be my coffee cup, Jongin. Always." Jongin had tried so hard not to, but he'd shed a few tears anyway and Kyungsoo had caressed his jaw and kissed away the silvery tracks of salt ...
Jongin wants so much to able to spend the whole day in bed with Kyungsoo again. Even for one more day. Just one.
It's been 102 days.
Jongin stares at the creamy coated paper of the menu. He's read through the Entrées and Mains three times and his eyes see the letters but he can't seem to make sense of the words. Giving up, he orders items from memory - he's been coming to this café for years after all, and he knows all their house specialties.
"I'll take the grilled eggplant and the Reuben sandwich." The words are desultory and Jongin turns to look out the window before he's even finished voicing his order. The wind is picking up outside and he can see skirts lifting and trenchcoat tails flapping and people pulling their beanies further down and turning their collars up. An old lady is struggling with her red umbrella, and it's threatening to turn itself inside out as the wind flirts aggressively with it. The air had been heavily laced with the sharp sweet zing of ozone as Jongin had walked the short distance from his car to the doors of Cravings Café; he knows the scent of a storm when he smells it. He knows that rain is on its way.
"Jongin!"
"Hmm?" A faraway look in his eyes, Jongin drags his gaze from the windy street scene and tries to focus on the rangy, dark-haired young man sitting across the table from him.
"Are you all right?" Sehun has been a close friend to both Kyungsoo and him since their college days, and sometimes he's too perceptive for Jongin's comfort.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You hate eggplant and you detest corned beef. Those are Kyungsoo's favorites." Sehun's eyes are incisive as blades as he watches Jongin unfalteringly.
"I ... I wasn't paying attention, I guess." Jongin says quietly. What else can he say? He really does despise eggplant and corned beef. Perhaps he should summon the waiter and change the order but it just seems like more effort than he wants to expend. And truth be told, he feels (in some fucked up way) that eating the food Kyungsoo likes will make him somehow feel like it's him sitting across the divide of claret colored tablecloth instead of Sehun - that it's narrow shoulders he sees instead of broad ones, obsidian black hair he sees instead of mocha, and lush plump lips he sees instead of the small pink mouth that's currently pursed in a mixture of concern and annoyance.
"How is he?" Jongin's eyes are trained on the activity on the street because he can't bear the weight of Sehun's measuring stare. There's the soft, distant wail of the wind as it whips hair into tangles and makes flurries of fallen leaves levitate and dance along Jackson Avenue. There's the muted sound of cars zooming past and the sight of a procession of mani-colored umbrellas bobbing past as they repel the rain falling downward in long diagonal spears.
"Not much better off than you - which is to say he's just as pathetic as you are. I took him out for drinks last Saturday night and you know what he ordered? A JD Coke. You know better than anyone that as far as Do Kyungsoo is concerned, Jack Daniels is poison that no one has any business drinking. He never touches the stuff and yet he ordered a JD Coke, which only happens to be your favorite drink. I should kick your fucking asses for being stupid above and beyond the call of duty." Sehun's voice was quiet but firm. He was usually the joker of their unit but there were no traces of humor in his words today.
"He never replied my messages or took my calls. The last time I tried was, I don't know, three weeks after he left. I can take a hint, Sehun."
"And you just gave up? You finished each other's sentences for five years and this is it? This is the best you can do to fight for Kyungsoo?"
"He was the one who gave up on us. Because I boxed him in and didn't give him enough breathing room. It's hard but I'm trying to give him the space he wants. And when I have lapses, I think, no, I dream that he will OD on all that space and he'll miss us and I'll come home one day and see his beat up loafers by the door and find him in the living room with the newspaper spread out on the coffee table because he finds holding the pages up tiring. And there'll be a cup of coffee nearby because he always says newspapers and coffee go together. This is what I dream of when I forget myself." Jongin's words flow out in a toneless stream as he folds and unfolds the table napkin distractedly.
"I don't know how else to tell you this, and I suspect you already know anyway, but you're both morons. You obviously need to be in the same room as each other again so you can just talk things out. Then you can kiss and make up, and ideally make out. Kyungsoo moves back in and you both move on - WITH EACH OTHER. This is how it should be."
"That's ... all I want, Sehun. But I don't know if that's what he wants." Defeat wraps itself around Jongin's voice and Sehun sighs, a troubled look on his face.
"Maybe he can't see it right now but I honestly think that's what he wants too." Sehun watches him intently and takes a sip of black, sugarless coffee.
"So what's your plan of action for getting Kyungsoo back?"
"Plan of action?" a bitter laugh escapes Jongin's lips at Sehun's question, "The only workable plan of action when it comes to Kyungsoo, is to let him decide what he wants to do."
"There must be a way-" Sehun says just before his phone begins buzzing inside his trouser pocket. He quickly mouths work to Jongin and leaves the table. Grateful for the reprieve, Jongin stares out the window at the puddles forming on the pavement. The surface is rippling and churning with concentric circles as the rain hits the ground hard. Jongin's always loved the rain, the energy of the rain drops as they crash to the earth, cleansing, invigorating. Kyungsoo loves the rain too, or at least he used to. Jongin wonders if he still does, and that's a mistake as image after bittersweet image sneaks determinedly into his thoughts ...
Kyungsoo was standing in front of their bedroom window, deep in reverie as he stared out at the falling rain. Lost in some daydream, Kyungsoo had only one arm inside the sleeve of a navy blue shirt with tiny white polka dots. Jongin smiled at the faded cotton button-down; it was the first article of clothing Jongin had ever bought for Kyungsoo. They'd been college students then and for five weeks, Jongin had gone without coffee and dessert just so he could pool together enough money to buy this shirt. It had been worth every lost brownie and latte to see the lustrous smile on Kyungsoo's face when he'd looked inside that sand colored paper bag.
Five years later, and Kyungsoo still refused to give up that shirt. It's a perfectly good shirt, why should I stop wearing it? Kyungsoo always said, whenever Jongin gently suggested that perhaps it was time to retire the shirt. This was what Kyungsoo always said but Jongin liked to think that he refused to give it up because Jongin had given it him.
Silently, Jongin walked towards Kyungsoo, and he reached him just as the other man slid his left arm into the remaining sleeve and pulled the shirt forward slightly so it sat nicely on his shoulders, draping in crisp lines down his chest. Kyungsoo straightened the lapels and was about to secure the topmost button when Jongin slipped in behind him and carefully adjusted his collar. Caught off guard, Kyungsoo's fingers froze as Jongin's arms reached around him, setting his skin and senses tingling. He could hear the hitch in Kyungsoo's breathing as Jongin's hands began slowly pushing buttons into slits until they were all fastened. There was a familiar stirring in his heart as his lips pressed gently to Kyungsoo's nape, the skin warm and living and intermingled with the intoxicating scent of Versace Eros.
"'Morning, Soo." Jongin whispered as his arms formed a possessive circle around his boyfriend and his hands trapped Kyungsoo's in his as they lay low against his belly. Leaning back into Jongin's embrace, Kyungsoo sighed and smiled before turning around to face Jongin. "Good morning, Jongin." Their lips met in a lingering kiss which ended with a quiet, I'm-just-so-glad-you're-here embrace. Then they stood together by the glass, Jongin's arms draped around Kyungsoo's waist again, chin resting on his lover's shoulder as showers of crystalline droplets bathed the world outside their window.
There's still a window and a world outside, but there's no mint-scented raven hair teasing his senses and no warm, male body in his arms. There's only the rain, the claret-shrouded table beneath his palms, and the gnawing emptiness in his chest. When Sehun reappears and takes his seat across the table, Jongin finds solace in his friend's presence because it's far less painful than being left alone with his thoughts and his shattered heart.
It's been 105 days.
Impatiently, Jongin slides open the wardrobe panel. He's supposed to meet Sehun for drinks at Club Zen, and it's the first time he's let Sehun convince him to go out for drinks since Kyungsoo left. Jongin just hasn't been in the mood for the noise and the lights and the unwelcome pressure of strangers' bodies pushing at you. He still isn't, but he's put Sehun off for so long that he doesn't have the energy or the will to argue with his friend anymore.
With a reluctant sigh, he begins sifting through the array of shirts hanging neatly off wooden hangers Kyungsoo had bought on sale from IKEA years ago. He hasn't looked in the casual dress shirt section of his wardrobe in more than 3 months because he hasn't had to. His eyes vaguely register the colors as they flash by. White. Gray. Burgundy. Black. Navy blue. Navy blue with white polka dots.
Navy blue with white polka dots.
Jongin isn't prepared for the wave of agony that rolls over him as he sees the shirt Kyungsoo had refused to stop wearing for 5 years, lurking silently in the shadows. His soul feels even more lacerated this time than it had the time he'd discovered the coffee cup. Dazed, he walks a few steps away from the wardrobe before sinking onto the floor, back to the wall. His head drops low, resting on his knees as the memories he'd managed to suppress for months finally leak out and run him over.
"I can't do this anymore, Jongin, I just can't. Let's not do this anymore. I love you, only you, and I can't take it that you don't believe that. I can't take it that you get upset when I want to do things on my own every now and then." Kyungsoo's voice sounded tired, spent. They'd been shouting at each other for half an hour, strung out emotions whipping and lashing around the room. But Jongin and Kyungsoo were so drained now they weren't even yelling anymore.
Their words kept going round and round in the same circles, with no resolution in sight as both combatants refused to compromise. They'd been clashing more and more frequently in the past 2 months as Kyungsoo chafed more and more against Jongin's possessive ways. He'd picked up photography 3 months before and it had become a passion for him, a solitary pursuit he loved and which Jongin resented because it took Kyungsoo away from him. At first Jongin had tried to tag along but the other man hadn't allowed it and that had frustrated and angered him.
"Why do you need to do things without me? We get a break from each other when we're at work and I just want to to be with you when I get home. Why is this wrong?"
"I didn't say it was wrong! I just think we need time away from each other to do our own thing sometimes. Work doesn't count, Jongin."
"I don't. I don't need time away, Soo." And Jongin was being truthful. For years, he'd willingly orbited around Kyungsoo and he couldn't imagine himself straying from that trajectory. Ever.
"Well, I do. I need time away. I need a break from all the fighting. I need a break from you." Kyungsoo dragged a frustrated palm over a face lined with fatigue. Kyungsoo's words were like jagged chips of ice floating through Jongin's blood stream, freezing his body from the inside out.
Kyungsoo couldn't be telling Jongin he was leaving him. He had to be hearing snatches of conversation from another room. Those words couldn't be falling from Kyungsoo's lips. Kyungsoo wouldn't do this to him. Kyungsoo would never leave him. This wasn't happening.
"I'm moving out. This weekend. We're just hurting each other and it needs to stop ... so I'm going to move back in with my brother till I can find my own place."
Jongin felt fissures forming in the thin layer of ice beneath his feet, felt the fragile surface crack and disintegrate, and felt himself drown.
Jongin hasn't allowed himself to think of that night in more than three months. Reliving it now doesn't wound him as badly as it had those first two weeks after Kyungsoo's departure, but it still stings and burns.
It hurts so much, Soo. I miss you so much, Jongin thinks as he curls up on the floor with his knees close to his chest, ignoring the persistent ringtone. I Against I ... It's Sehun, of course, but Club Zen is the furthest thing from Jongin's mind as he closes his eyes, lashes wet. Meanwhile, Massive Attack's addictive, electro hip hop beats play on unheeded as the phone rings and rings.
It's been 108 days.
Empire Records has a serene, restful air about it that's always made Jongin feel at home. The scuffed, marled brown carpet, the textured cream walls and the muted lighting create a perfect ambience for browsing and listening to music. Kyungsoo had been the one to discover this treasure trove when they were sophomores at college, but ironically, Jongin's never bumped into Kyungsoo here since the breakup. In fact, Jongin hasn't seen Kyungsoo at all in more than 3 months. Who knew the city sprawled so wide they could go about their lives in parallel lines, never to intersect?
He wanders into the R&B section of the store - it's his default area whenever he's in the store. Sometimes he just picks CDs off the rack and tries out random songs that are obscure or at least new to him. But today, Jongin is after something specific and he locates it swiftly: Musiq Soulchild's Ifuleave. As he's removing it from the shelf, he hears a familiar cough behind him - one he hasn't heard in far too long. And he's so desperate for any glimpse of him that he's probably imagining the tendrils of Versace Eros scenting the air. Surely it couldn't be ...?
Jongin doesn't know what he expects to find when he turns around but it's most definitely not Kyungsoo standing there, staring right at him. Kyungsoo's face has hollowed out slightly and there are faint shadows beneath his eyes like he hasn't been sleeping well. His clothes, too, hang loosely off him like he's lost some weight. In other words, Kyungsoo's changed physically over the last 3 months in much the same way Jongin has changed. Only Kyungsoo's so much more beautiful, Jongin thinks. He drinks in the handsome face and the haunting eyes and welcomes the heavy aching in his chest as the words echo unsaid in his head:
You're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
"Jongin, it's you." Kyungsoo murmurs with an awkward half smile, "I didn't realize you still came here."
"I ... I like this place. You know how I am about places I like. I keep going back." Jongin can't stop himself from staring because he's missed seeing this man so much, and he's trying really hard not to think about how much of a wreck he'll be when Kyungsoo walks away from him a second time.
"How have you been?" Kyungsoo asks and it's the sort of casual thing you'd ask an acquaintance but there's something like pain in Kyungsoo's eyes and Jongin knows there's nothing casual about his question.
"Struggling. I haven't been coping so well without you," Jongin's voice is quiet as he watches Kyungsoo intently.
"Ah." Kyungsoo says enigmatically before taking a few steps closer to Jongin. "I've been struggling too."
They're facing each other, with about ten inches of what seems like impassable space between them.
"Are you still living with your brother? Or did you manage to find your own place?"
"I'm at my brother's. I never looked for my own place."
"I don't understand. You said you were going to find your own place."
"I was angry and exhausted. I said some things I didn't mean, Jongin." Kyungsoo sounds ... Jongin isn't sure but he thinks he sounds regretful.
"Are you going to be at your brother's permanently?" Jongin's fingers worry the side seam of his black 501s as he watches Kyungsoo.
"It depends," Kyungsoo's words trail off to the dying notes of a jazzy song Jongin's never heard before. They always plays an eclectic selection of music (not too loudly) over the in-store speakers and you're never sure what you'll hear. But it's not the next song Jongin is holding out for, it's the rest of Kyungsoo's sentence.
"I missed you, Jongin. Let me come home, please?" He says the words almost softly and it's so unlike his confident, sometimes blunt way of stating things.
"Why didn't you answer my texts and my calls? I thought ... I thought you didn't want us anymore."
"I knew if I answered, I wouldn't have been able to resist. I would have gone back to you all those months ago and I didn't want that. We needed time on our own. But I guess I left it too long because your calls and messages stopped completely. I didn't expect you to stop so soon, Jongin. You've always been there for me and I didn't think you'd give up so easily. And my stupid pride stopped me from contacting you myself."
"I was trying to give you that space you wanted so much." Jongin gives a wistful smile.
"Is it too late? Did I leave it too late? I'm so sorry, Jongin." Now there's a hint of genuine distress in Kyungsoo's voice, "If I hadn't seen you here tonight I would have called you on Saturday because ... I just can't, without you anymore. Did I leave it too late, Jongin?"
"I don't think I know how to be with anyone else, Soo." Jongin says simply and it's enough to dissolve the final barrier between them as Kyungsoo takes a few steps forward and grabs Jongin's hand. Jongin's throat is thick with unshed tears at the what ifs. What if he hadn't heard that song on the radio and decided he needed to buy that single? What if he'd gone to a different music store? What if he'd waited till the weekend to come here? The possibilities are endless but in the end, all that matters are the cold, slender fingers gripping his hand so tightly it feels like they'll never let go. Jongin sighs before his arms reach around Kyungsoo's too-slim shoulders, and pull him close. It's enough to just have him in his arms again.
It's enough to know that Kyungsoo is almost home.
It's been 111 days
They go home in Jongin's car, catching up slowly on things they'd missed in the months they'd been apart. By some unspoken agreement, both Jongin and Kyungsoo carefully skirt around the issues which had caused their estrangement - there would be more than enough time for that later. It's just nice to be in each other's personal space again, to hold hands from time to time in the car. But there's still an air of shyness that clings to all their interactions, and Jongin hopes it evaporates soon, because he wants them to be okay again; he wants them to be close like before.
Once Jongin's locked the front door, he turns and sees Kyungsoo's beat up loafers and his heart stutters because seeing those shoes in their place by the door makes it seem like Kyungsoo had never left, that Jongin's heart had never left. He tells himself to calm down and breathe because what if Kyungsoo has a change of mind and decides to leave again?
"The place looks great." Kyungsoo surveys the clean and well kept apartment, "I was half expecting it to ..."
"Be a mess? I had a lot of time on my hands all of a sudden." Jongin chuckles, but there's no real mirth in his laugh.
"Did you see anyone, Jongin? While I was gone?" Kyungsoo unexpectedly sheds the small talk.
"No. I wasn't joking when I said I don't know how to be with anyone else. A couple of guys tried asking me out but ...I just couldn't." Jongin walks towards the other man and he only stops moving when their chests are almost touching, "What about you, Soo? Did you ...?" Jongin can't even bring himself to say out the words but it's okay because he knows Kyungsoo understands. They've always finished each other's sentences.
"Does Sehun count?" Kyungsoo's laughs and it's a hollow sounding thing, "He dragged me out for lunch and dinner a few times and we went to Club Zen two weekends ago."
"What is with that guy and Club Zen? It's like there aren't any other clubs in this city, for fuck's sake." Jongin jokes as his eyes gaze into Kyungsoo's. Then he just takes a risk and holds Kyungsoo's face in his hands. The sensation of Kyungsoo's pale skin beneath his own after all this time is everything and this almost unravels him.
"Soo," Jongin whispers, his lips brushing gently against his cheek. Then there's no need for words as Kyungsoo's hand cups Jongin's neck and his lips slide over Jongin's in a kiss that's both tender and sweet. The familiar, cherished taste of Kyungsoo floods his senses and he leans forward to drink more of it in, and when his hot mouth moves over Kyungsoo's neck, Jongin presses the words gently onto his skin: You're home. I'm so glad you're home.
"Me too, Jongin. Me too." Kyungsoo says just before his mouth engulfs Jongin in a fierce kiss that melts away the months of melancholy and loneliness ...
They sit on the bed, facing each other, hands tentatively exploring bare skin as they relearn every dip and curve, every contour of each other's bodies. Jongin's legs form an imperfect circle around Kyungsoo's slim hips and beautifully proportioned ass, while Kyungsoo's own legs lay draped over Jongin's leanly muscled thighs and narrow hips, forming a larger, not-quite-circle. Their pale and tan skin look pretty together - like milk and honey.
Everything's changed and yet nothing has. They're both leaner now after months of diminished appetite and sleep, and the bony ridges of their shoulders, collarbones and hips are more pronounced ... all the soft edges are gone. Their bodies are subtly different now, but when Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, cants his hips and slowly lowers himself onto Jongin's aroused cock, their bodies fit together like nothing has changed. Kisses drift across angular collarbones and shoulders, warm inviting necks, and hot, yielding mouths as Kyungsoo rides Jongin. Kyungsoo moves slowly, and Jongin moans softly as he savors the sensations, the pressure building more and more intensely in his groin. It's many minutes later when the two men finally come apart in a white hot flare of ecstasy, and a mingling of tongues and I love yous.
"Did you find it? The space you wanted?" Jongin asks as Kyungsoo lays sprawled above him in an elegant tangle of limbs.
"Too much. There was too much of it. I didn't care for the space so much after a while." Kyungsoo's fingertips skate across the flat, hard planes of Jongin's belly as he continues solemnly, "But I meant what I said all those months ago, Jongin. We need time to hang out with our own friends as well, on our own. And I won't give up photography. I love you and I ... I don't deal well without you, I think you know that already, but we need to make some compromises. I need to be able to do my things too, my Kyungsoo-without-Jongin things. And you should find your own Jongin-without-Kyungsoo things too. We've been with each other for so long we've almost lost our sense of who we are without each other and that's not healthy. If we go back to the way things were, I can't promise I won't leave again. But it won't be for long because I can't ... I can't be without you, Jongin. So I'd rather not experience the pain of the last three and a half months again."
"One hundred and eleven."
"What?"
"We were apart for one hundred and eleven days."
"Jongin, you kept count?" Kyungsoo's eyes fill with something that looks like pain.
"It wasn't on purpose, but I lost my centre, Soo. You were my center. I didn't know what to do with myself at first and I guess the counting helped give the days some structure." Jongin's fingers trail over Kyungsoo's almost shyly, and their fingers entwine.
"Did you find some Jongin-without-Kyungsoo things to do when I wasn't here?" Kyungsoo's fingers stroke Jongin's right temple. They've been deprived of each other's touch for so long that they find themselves constantly reaching out to make tactile imprints on each other's skin, reveling in the fact that they're inhabiting the same space again.
"I did, it was good for me. But I don't think the wooden surfaces in this place will need polishing for a year, maybe two." Jongin said matter of factly and his soul soared at the sound of Kyungsoo's velvet smooth laughter.
"You hate housework!"
"I hated drowning in memories of us more and housework helped me to blank out."
"But did you find something other than housework to occupy you, Jongin, because housework isn't exactly a hobby." Kyungsoo's fingertips make comforting pressure trails on his scalp and Jongin's entire body goes limp at the pleasure and the knowing that he's finally here. Kyungsoo is here.
"I did. A colleague suggested I take up rock climbing at the center downtown and I went in thinking I'd give it one shot to get him off my case but I ended up loving it. You should try it sometime, Soo. You might like it." Jongin says as he lazily nibbles on Kyungsoo's right earlobe.
"Don't expect to see my ass scaling a wall of rock anytime soon, Kim Jongin!" Kyungsoo laughs.
"That's fine. You can take photos of my ass scaling a wall of rock instead," Jongin's kiss is a sweet tentative thing.
"I've missed this ass." Kyungsoo gropes Jongin's butt playfully but his eyes are intense with emotion as he says, "And I've missed this hair and this face. Let's not do this again, Jongin."
"Why didn't you take the mug? And the shirt?" Jongin asks carefully, trying his best not to show how hurt he'd been that Kyungsoo had left the two things left behind.
"I left them behind on purpose."
"Because they didn't mean anything to you anymore?"
"Because I was always going to come home. I left them here so you'd know I was coming home." Kyungsoo smiles wistfully just before he leans up and kisses Jongin, "No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you, Jongin, because you're my center too, my home."
"I love you so much, Soo, and I'm so glad you're back." Jongin hugs him tightly, tears flowing down his cheeks.
"I'm glad I'm back too. I love you, Jongin. You'll always be my coffee cup. Always." Kyungsoo adds at the end and it's so unexpected that Jongin laughs and Kyungsoo joins him.
As they share a lingering kiss and hold each other close, the words resound elatedly through Jongin's mind:
Kyungsoo is home. Kyungsoo is finally home.
~FIN
Title: Concentric Circles
Pairings: Kai/D.O.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5,920
Summary: Jongin and Kyungsoo parted ways months ago; but the ties that bind them run so deep and so strong that it’s hard to let go.
Author’s Note: To my recipient, I hope this isn't too far from what you wanted. It was a pleasure writing for you and I hope you will like this at least a little <3
“Even painful memories are ties that bind.”
― Milan Kundera, Farewell Waltz
Swipe, swipe. Mindlessly, Jongin watches the circular, sweeping movements his hand makes as it goes over the already glossy plane of the coffee table. The sharp odor of lemon Pledge pricks unpleasantly at his nostrils and makes his eyes water but the repetitive polishing helps keep his mind off more painful things.
The house phone rings and he ignores it. His hands are slick from the wood polish and his heart is worn paper-thin; there just isn't a single tattered shred of energy left in him to deal with whoever might be calling so he lets it ring unanswered.
Swipe, swipe. He's starting to zone out again when the answering machine comes on. "Hi, we can't come to the phone right now but we'll call you back if you leave your name and number." It's nothing but a simple, impersonal message but the midnight velvet voice slips effortlessly through the razor thin crevices in the walls he's erected. The voice penetrates Jongin's senses and permeates them - abruptly flooding his empty mind with images of the face the voice belongs to. Jongin tries to stem the flow but the seeds have been planted and they take root and his mind explodes with flashbacks of the day they'd recorded that message ...
"You do it." Kyungsoo said, staring at the answering machine like it was about to grow horns and attack him.
"You know I can't speak to machines." Jongin wrapped his arms around his lover's narrow waist, nuzzling his face in Kyungsoo's shoulder.
"I can't either." Kyungsoo snorted.
"But you sound more professional and I mumble," Jongin said persuasively as he nibbled on the pale earlobe that had been tempting him for the past ten minutes.
"You're ... cheating." Kyungsoo complained.
"So you'll do it?" He kissed a smile onto Kyungsoo's sensitive nape. Twisting around, Kyungsoo growled, "I hate you, Kim Jongin!" just before he dragged Jongin closer and captured his lips in a lingering, seductive kiss. Kyungsoo's mouth tasted like the Cola he'd been drinking just minutes earlier and Jongin loved the way it tasted on his tongue. They collapsed breathlessly onto the sofa and as their bodies fell into each other's, Jongin gazed into the whiskey brown depths of Kyungsoo's eyes. Tenderly, his index finger traced the generous curves of Kyungsoo's lips, "I love your voice the best," Jongin said, lowering his head to kiss him ...
A dull ache throbs in the core of Jongin's chest in the wake of that all-too-vivid memory he'd thought so deeply embedded it would never surface again. It takes him a while to tuck those moments away again but Jongin somehow manages. Swipe, swipe. He forces his hand to resume polishing the chestnut wood of the coffee table until the surface is a glassy mirror - completely smooth and perfect, marred only by two solitary spheres of salty liquid.
It's been 99 days.
Jongin rams the last bite of toast into his mouth and brings his cornflower blue dish and daffodil yellow coffee mug to the sink. The colors are so vibrant they hurt his eyes (and maybe his soul). As he turns on the tap, his eyes wander and settle on a vanilla colored mug in the deep recesses of the shelf where the cups are kept.
In black handwriting font, the letters spell out: I envy the coffee cup that gets to kiss your lips awake every cold and bitter morning. Jongin's never noticed it there before today, and it hurts him more than he can say that Kyungsoo's left it behind. If Kyungsoo had taken it with him, he could at least pretend that he'd wanted to keep a piece of Jongin with him. But there the mug lies, half-hidden in the corner, taunting him. He reaches out and takes it, stares into the circular mouth of the mug and remembers ...
Kyungsoo had burst into laughter when Jongin had first presented him with that mug at breakfast one morning. Reading the slogan, he'd laughed, then scolded Jongin for being the corniest person alive. Ignoring his mirth, Jongin had placed his hands on his narrow waist and lifted him up onto the countertop. As Kyungsoo sat on the edge of the countertop, he'd chuckled, "You are the cheesiest fuck, Jongin," and Jongin had replied, "Shh, let me be your coffee cup, Do Kyungsoo." And he'd silenced Kyungsoo's delighted laughter with a teasing kiss which had escalated into something darker and more passionate as Kyungsoo wrapped his legs around Jongin's waist and pulled him closer. As Jongin licked the edges of Kyungsoo's jaw and gently nipped his earlobe, Kyungsoo had groaned, "We're going to be so fucking late for work." Taking that as their cue, Jongin's fingers had deftly unbuckled the slim, black leather belt and unzipped his fly.
"Careful not to wrinkle my trousers," Kyungsoo had gasped as Jongin's fingers encircled his half hard cock. "No promises," Jongin's voice was raspy with desire and he watched with satisfaction as Kyungsoo's knuckles turned white from gripping the counter so hard. "Oh God." Kyungsoo's moaned as Jongin's lips glided slowly over his cock, and his fingers tangled shakily in Jongin's lustrous dark hair - gripping and tugging in time to the erotic movements of Jongin's mouth ...
They'd called in sick in the end and spent most of the day in bed. That night, as the room lay blanketed in opaque onyx shadows, Jongin had placed his lips against the warm ivory of Kyungsoo's neck and whispered against his skin, "Am I your coffee cup, Soo?"
"Yes, Jongin, you are. Every morning of every day, you are." There had been more than a slight catch in Kyungsoo's voice and then his lips were moving desperately over Jongin's - his tongue probing the warm honeyed depths of his mouth.
With impatient hands and eager mouths, they'd tattooed their love onto each other's bodies, and Jongin's fists had curled tightly around the dove gray bedsheets as Kyungsoo pushed into him and moved, eyes closed, entering him over and over again in a steady, driving rhythm. Eventually, it was Kyungsoo who climaxed first but it was only seconds later when Jongin hurtled over the edge with him. Kyungsoo had sunk bonelessly onto the hard strength of Jongin's chest so they could feel each other's wild hearts beating fast, so fast, like they were trying to outrun each other.
After marking the pale cinnamon skin of his lover's neck with rose-tinted impressions, Kyungsoo had looked up at Jongin and said, in a voice threaded with emotion, "You'll always be my coffee cup, Jongin. Always." Jongin had tried so hard not to, but he'd shed a few tears anyway and Kyungsoo had caressed his jaw and kissed away the silvery tracks of salt ...
Jongin wants so much to able to spend the whole day in bed with Kyungsoo again. Even for one more day. Just one.
It's been 102 days.
Jongin stares at the creamy coated paper of the menu. He's read through the Entrées and Mains three times and his eyes see the letters but he can't seem to make sense of the words. Giving up, he orders items from memory - he's been coming to this café for years after all, and he knows all their house specialties.
"I'll take the grilled eggplant and the Reuben sandwich." The words are desultory and Jongin turns to look out the window before he's even finished voicing his order. The wind is picking up outside and he can see skirts lifting and trenchcoat tails flapping and people pulling their beanies further down and turning their collars up. An old lady is struggling with her red umbrella, and it's threatening to turn itself inside out as the wind flirts aggressively with it. The air had been heavily laced with the sharp sweet zing of ozone as Jongin had walked the short distance from his car to the doors of Cravings Café; he knows the scent of a storm when he smells it. He knows that rain is on its way.
"Jongin!"
"Hmm?" A faraway look in his eyes, Jongin drags his gaze from the windy street scene and tries to focus on the rangy, dark-haired young man sitting across the table from him.
"Are you all right?" Sehun has been a close friend to both Kyungsoo and him since their college days, and sometimes he's too perceptive for Jongin's comfort.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"You hate eggplant and you detest corned beef. Those are Kyungsoo's favorites." Sehun's eyes are incisive as blades as he watches Jongin unfalteringly.
"I ... I wasn't paying attention, I guess." Jongin says quietly. What else can he say? He really does despise eggplant and corned beef. Perhaps he should summon the waiter and change the order but it just seems like more effort than he wants to expend. And truth be told, he feels (in some fucked up way) that eating the food Kyungsoo likes will make him somehow feel like it's him sitting across the divide of claret colored tablecloth instead of Sehun - that it's narrow shoulders he sees instead of broad ones, obsidian black hair he sees instead of mocha, and lush plump lips he sees instead of the small pink mouth that's currently pursed in a mixture of concern and annoyance.
"How is he?" Jongin's eyes are trained on the activity on the street because he can't bear the weight of Sehun's measuring stare. There's the soft, distant wail of the wind as it whips hair into tangles and makes flurries of fallen leaves levitate and dance along Jackson Avenue. There's the muted sound of cars zooming past and the sight of a procession of mani-colored umbrellas bobbing past as they repel the rain falling downward in long diagonal spears.
"Not much better off than you - which is to say he's just as pathetic as you are. I took him out for drinks last Saturday night and you know what he ordered? A JD Coke. You know better than anyone that as far as Do Kyungsoo is concerned, Jack Daniels is poison that no one has any business drinking. He never touches the stuff and yet he ordered a JD Coke, which only happens to be your favorite drink. I should kick your fucking asses for being stupid above and beyond the call of duty." Sehun's voice was quiet but firm. He was usually the joker of their unit but there were no traces of humor in his words today.
"He never replied my messages or took my calls. The last time I tried was, I don't know, three weeks after he left. I can take a hint, Sehun."
"And you just gave up? You finished each other's sentences for five years and this is it? This is the best you can do to fight for Kyungsoo?"
"He was the one who gave up on us. Because I boxed him in and didn't give him enough breathing room. It's hard but I'm trying to give him the space he wants. And when I have lapses, I think, no, I dream that he will OD on all that space and he'll miss us and I'll come home one day and see his beat up loafers by the door and find him in the living room with the newspaper spread out on the coffee table because he finds holding the pages up tiring. And there'll be a cup of coffee nearby because he always says newspapers and coffee go together. This is what I dream of when I forget myself." Jongin's words flow out in a toneless stream as he folds and unfolds the table napkin distractedly.
"I don't know how else to tell you this, and I suspect you already know anyway, but you're both morons. You obviously need to be in the same room as each other again so you can just talk things out. Then you can kiss and make up, and ideally make out. Kyungsoo moves back in and you both move on - WITH EACH OTHER. This is how it should be."
"That's ... all I want, Sehun. But I don't know if that's what he wants." Defeat wraps itself around Jongin's voice and Sehun sighs, a troubled look on his face.
"Maybe he can't see it right now but I honestly think that's what he wants too." Sehun watches him intently and takes a sip of black, sugarless coffee.
"So what's your plan of action for getting Kyungsoo back?"
"Plan of action?" a bitter laugh escapes Jongin's lips at Sehun's question, "The only workable plan of action when it comes to Kyungsoo, is to let him decide what he wants to do."
"There must be a way-" Sehun says just before his phone begins buzzing inside his trouser pocket. He quickly mouths work to Jongin and leaves the table. Grateful for the reprieve, Jongin stares out the window at the puddles forming on the pavement. The surface is rippling and churning with concentric circles as the rain hits the ground hard. Jongin's always loved the rain, the energy of the rain drops as they crash to the earth, cleansing, invigorating. Kyungsoo loves the rain too, or at least he used to. Jongin wonders if he still does, and that's a mistake as image after bittersweet image sneaks determinedly into his thoughts ...
Kyungsoo was standing in front of their bedroom window, deep in reverie as he stared out at the falling rain. Lost in some daydream, Kyungsoo had only one arm inside the sleeve of a navy blue shirt with tiny white polka dots. Jongin smiled at the faded cotton button-down; it was the first article of clothing Jongin had ever bought for Kyungsoo. They'd been college students then and for five weeks, Jongin had gone without coffee and dessert just so he could pool together enough money to buy this shirt. It had been worth every lost brownie and latte to see the lustrous smile on Kyungsoo's face when he'd looked inside that sand colored paper bag.
Five years later, and Kyungsoo still refused to give up that shirt. It's a perfectly good shirt, why should I stop wearing it? Kyungsoo always said, whenever Jongin gently suggested that perhaps it was time to retire the shirt. This was what Kyungsoo always said but Jongin liked to think that he refused to give it up because Jongin had given it him.
Silently, Jongin walked towards Kyungsoo, and he reached him just as the other man slid his left arm into the remaining sleeve and pulled the shirt forward slightly so it sat nicely on his shoulders, draping in crisp lines down his chest. Kyungsoo straightened the lapels and was about to secure the topmost button when Jongin slipped in behind him and carefully adjusted his collar. Caught off guard, Kyungsoo's fingers froze as Jongin's arms reached around him, setting his skin and senses tingling. He could hear the hitch in Kyungsoo's breathing as Jongin's hands began slowly pushing buttons into slits until they were all fastened. There was a familiar stirring in his heart as his lips pressed gently to Kyungsoo's nape, the skin warm and living and intermingled with the intoxicating scent of Versace Eros.
"'Morning, Soo." Jongin whispered as his arms formed a possessive circle around his boyfriend and his hands trapped Kyungsoo's in his as they lay low against his belly. Leaning back into Jongin's embrace, Kyungsoo sighed and smiled before turning around to face Jongin. "Good morning, Jongin." Their lips met in a lingering kiss which ended with a quiet, I'm-just-so-glad-you're-here embrace. Then they stood together by the glass, Jongin's arms draped around Kyungsoo's waist again, chin resting on his lover's shoulder as showers of crystalline droplets bathed the world outside their window.
There's still a window and a world outside, but there's no mint-scented raven hair teasing his senses and no warm, male body in his arms. There's only the rain, the claret-shrouded table beneath his palms, and the gnawing emptiness in his chest. When Sehun reappears and takes his seat across the table, Jongin finds solace in his friend's presence because it's far less painful than being left alone with his thoughts and his shattered heart.
It's been 105 days.
Impatiently, Jongin slides open the wardrobe panel. He's supposed to meet Sehun for drinks at Club Zen, and it's the first time he's let Sehun convince him to go out for drinks since Kyungsoo left. Jongin just hasn't been in the mood for the noise and the lights and the unwelcome pressure of strangers' bodies pushing at you. He still isn't, but he's put Sehun off for so long that he doesn't have the energy or the will to argue with his friend anymore.
With a reluctant sigh, he begins sifting through the array of shirts hanging neatly off wooden hangers Kyungsoo had bought on sale from IKEA years ago. He hasn't looked in the casual dress shirt section of his wardrobe in more than 3 months because he hasn't had to. His eyes vaguely register the colors as they flash by. White. Gray. Burgundy. Black. Navy blue. Navy blue with white polka dots.
Navy blue with white polka dots.
Jongin isn't prepared for the wave of agony that rolls over him as he sees the shirt Kyungsoo had refused to stop wearing for 5 years, lurking silently in the shadows. His soul feels even more lacerated this time than it had the time he'd discovered the coffee cup. Dazed, he walks a few steps away from the wardrobe before sinking onto the floor, back to the wall. His head drops low, resting on his knees as the memories he'd managed to suppress for months finally leak out and run him over.
"I can't do this anymore, Jongin, I just can't. Let's not do this anymore. I love you, only you, and I can't take it that you don't believe that. I can't take it that you get upset when I want to do things on my own every now and then." Kyungsoo's voice sounded tired, spent. They'd been shouting at each other for half an hour, strung out emotions whipping and lashing around the room. But Jongin and Kyungsoo were so drained now they weren't even yelling anymore.
Their words kept going round and round in the same circles, with no resolution in sight as both combatants refused to compromise. They'd been clashing more and more frequently in the past 2 months as Kyungsoo chafed more and more against Jongin's possessive ways. He'd picked up photography 3 months before and it had become a passion for him, a solitary pursuit he loved and which Jongin resented because it took Kyungsoo away from him. At first Jongin had tried to tag along but the other man hadn't allowed it and that had frustrated and angered him.
"Why do you need to do things without me? We get a break from each other when we're at work and I just want to to be with you when I get home. Why is this wrong?"
"I didn't say it was wrong! I just think we need time away from each other to do our own thing sometimes. Work doesn't count, Jongin."
"I don't. I don't need time away, Soo." And Jongin was being truthful. For years, he'd willingly orbited around Kyungsoo and he couldn't imagine himself straying from that trajectory. Ever.
"Well, I do. I need time away. I need a break from all the fighting. I need a break from you." Kyungsoo dragged a frustrated palm over a face lined with fatigue. Kyungsoo's words were like jagged chips of ice floating through Jongin's blood stream, freezing his body from the inside out.
Kyungsoo couldn't be telling Jongin he was leaving him. He had to be hearing snatches of conversation from another room. Those words couldn't be falling from Kyungsoo's lips. Kyungsoo wouldn't do this to him. Kyungsoo would never leave him. This wasn't happening.
"I'm moving out. This weekend. We're just hurting each other and it needs to stop ... so I'm going to move back in with my brother till I can find my own place."
Jongin felt fissures forming in the thin layer of ice beneath his feet, felt the fragile surface crack and disintegrate, and felt himself drown.
Jongin hasn't allowed himself to think of that night in more than three months. Reliving it now doesn't wound him as badly as it had those first two weeks after Kyungsoo's departure, but it still stings and burns.
It hurts so much, Soo. I miss you so much, Jongin thinks as he curls up on the floor with his knees close to his chest, ignoring the persistent ringtone. I Against I ... It's Sehun, of course, but Club Zen is the furthest thing from Jongin's mind as he closes his eyes, lashes wet. Meanwhile, Massive Attack's addictive, electro hip hop beats play on unheeded as the phone rings and rings.
It's been 108 days.
Empire Records has a serene, restful air about it that's always made Jongin feel at home. The scuffed, marled brown carpet, the textured cream walls and the muted lighting create a perfect ambience for browsing and listening to music. Kyungsoo had been the one to discover this treasure trove when they were sophomores at college, but ironically, Jongin's never bumped into Kyungsoo here since the breakup. In fact, Jongin hasn't seen Kyungsoo at all in more than 3 months. Who knew the city sprawled so wide they could go about their lives in parallel lines, never to intersect?
He wanders into the R&B section of the store - it's his default area whenever he's in the store. Sometimes he just picks CDs off the rack and tries out random songs that are obscure or at least new to him. But today, Jongin is after something specific and he locates it swiftly: Musiq Soulchild's Ifuleave. As he's removing it from the shelf, he hears a familiar cough behind him - one he hasn't heard in far too long. And he's so desperate for any glimpse of him that he's probably imagining the tendrils of Versace Eros scenting the air. Surely it couldn't be ...?
Jongin doesn't know what he expects to find when he turns around but it's most definitely not Kyungsoo standing there, staring right at him. Kyungsoo's face has hollowed out slightly and there are faint shadows beneath his eyes like he hasn't been sleeping well. His clothes, too, hang loosely off him like he's lost some weight. In other words, Kyungsoo's changed physically over the last 3 months in much the same way Jongin has changed. Only Kyungsoo's so much more beautiful, Jongin thinks. He drinks in the handsome face and the haunting eyes and welcomes the heavy aching in his chest as the words echo unsaid in his head:
You're so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
"Jongin, it's you." Kyungsoo murmurs with an awkward half smile, "I didn't realize you still came here."
"I ... I like this place. You know how I am about places I like. I keep going back." Jongin can't stop himself from staring because he's missed seeing this man so much, and he's trying really hard not to think about how much of a wreck he'll be when Kyungsoo walks away from him a second time.
"How have you been?" Kyungsoo asks and it's the sort of casual thing you'd ask an acquaintance but there's something like pain in Kyungsoo's eyes and Jongin knows there's nothing casual about his question.
"Struggling. I haven't been coping so well without you," Jongin's voice is quiet as he watches Kyungsoo intently.
"Ah." Kyungsoo says enigmatically before taking a few steps closer to Jongin. "I've been struggling too."
They're facing each other, with about ten inches of what seems like impassable space between them.
"Are you still living with your brother? Or did you manage to find your own place?"
"I'm at my brother's. I never looked for my own place."
"I don't understand. You said you were going to find your own place."
"I was angry and exhausted. I said some things I didn't mean, Jongin." Kyungsoo sounds ... Jongin isn't sure but he thinks he sounds regretful.
"Are you going to be at your brother's permanently?" Jongin's fingers worry the side seam of his black 501s as he watches Kyungsoo.
"It depends," Kyungsoo's words trail off to the dying notes of a jazzy song Jongin's never heard before. They always plays an eclectic selection of music (not too loudly) over the in-store speakers and you're never sure what you'll hear. But it's not the next song Jongin is holding out for, it's the rest of Kyungsoo's sentence.
"I missed you, Jongin. Let me come home, please?" He says the words almost softly and it's so unlike his confident, sometimes blunt way of stating things.
"Why didn't you answer my texts and my calls? I thought ... I thought you didn't want us anymore."
"I knew if I answered, I wouldn't have been able to resist. I would have gone back to you all those months ago and I didn't want that. We needed time on our own. But I guess I left it too long because your calls and messages stopped completely. I didn't expect you to stop so soon, Jongin. You've always been there for me and I didn't think you'd give up so easily. And my stupid pride stopped me from contacting you myself."
"I was trying to give you that space you wanted so much." Jongin gives a wistful smile.
"Is it too late? Did I leave it too late? I'm so sorry, Jongin." Now there's a hint of genuine distress in Kyungsoo's voice, "If I hadn't seen you here tonight I would have called you on Saturday because ... I just can't, without you anymore. Did I leave it too late, Jongin?"
"I don't think I know how to be with anyone else, Soo." Jongin says simply and it's enough to dissolve the final barrier between them as Kyungsoo takes a few steps forward and grabs Jongin's hand. Jongin's throat is thick with unshed tears at the what ifs. What if he hadn't heard that song on the radio and decided he needed to buy that single? What if he'd gone to a different music store? What if he'd waited till the weekend to come here? The possibilities are endless but in the end, all that matters are the cold, slender fingers gripping his hand so tightly it feels like they'll never let go. Jongin sighs before his arms reach around Kyungsoo's too-slim shoulders, and pull him close. It's enough to just have him in his arms again.
It's enough to know that Kyungsoo is almost home.
It's been 111 days
They go home in Jongin's car, catching up slowly on things they'd missed in the months they'd been apart. By some unspoken agreement, both Jongin and Kyungsoo carefully skirt around the issues which had caused their estrangement - there would be more than enough time for that later. It's just nice to be in each other's personal space again, to hold hands from time to time in the car. But there's still an air of shyness that clings to all their interactions, and Jongin hopes it evaporates soon, because he wants them to be okay again; he wants them to be close like before.
Once Jongin's locked the front door, he turns and sees Kyungsoo's beat up loafers and his heart stutters because seeing those shoes in their place by the door makes it seem like Kyungsoo had never left, that Jongin's heart had never left. He tells himself to calm down and breathe because what if Kyungsoo has a change of mind and decides to leave again?
"The place looks great." Kyungsoo surveys the clean and well kept apartment, "I was half expecting it to ..."
"Be a mess? I had a lot of time on my hands all of a sudden." Jongin chuckles, but there's no real mirth in his laugh.
"Did you see anyone, Jongin? While I was gone?" Kyungsoo unexpectedly sheds the small talk.
"No. I wasn't joking when I said I don't know how to be with anyone else. A couple of guys tried asking me out but ...I just couldn't." Jongin walks towards the other man and he only stops moving when their chests are almost touching, "What about you, Soo? Did you ...?" Jongin can't even bring himself to say out the words but it's okay because he knows Kyungsoo understands. They've always finished each other's sentences.
"Does Sehun count?" Kyungsoo's laughs and it's a hollow sounding thing, "He dragged me out for lunch and dinner a few times and we went to Club Zen two weekends ago."
"What is with that guy and Club Zen? It's like there aren't any other clubs in this city, for fuck's sake." Jongin jokes as his eyes gaze into Kyungsoo's. Then he just takes a risk and holds Kyungsoo's face in his hands. The sensation of Kyungsoo's pale skin beneath his own after all this time is everything and this almost unravels him.
"Soo," Jongin whispers, his lips brushing gently against his cheek. Then there's no need for words as Kyungsoo's hand cups Jongin's neck and his lips slide over Jongin's in a kiss that's both tender and sweet. The familiar, cherished taste of Kyungsoo floods his senses and he leans forward to drink more of it in, and when his hot mouth moves over Kyungsoo's neck, Jongin presses the words gently onto his skin: You're home. I'm so glad you're home.
"Me too, Jongin. Me too." Kyungsoo says just before his mouth engulfs Jongin in a fierce kiss that melts away the months of melancholy and loneliness ...
They sit on the bed, facing each other, hands tentatively exploring bare skin as they relearn every dip and curve, every contour of each other's bodies. Jongin's legs form an imperfect circle around Kyungsoo's slim hips and beautifully proportioned ass, while Kyungsoo's own legs lay draped over Jongin's leanly muscled thighs and narrow hips, forming a larger, not-quite-circle. Their pale and tan skin look pretty together - like milk and honey.
Everything's changed and yet nothing has. They're both leaner now after months of diminished appetite and sleep, and the bony ridges of their shoulders, collarbones and hips are more pronounced ... all the soft edges are gone. Their bodies are subtly different now, but when Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, cants his hips and slowly lowers himself onto Jongin's aroused cock, their bodies fit together like nothing has changed. Kisses drift across angular collarbones and shoulders, warm inviting necks, and hot, yielding mouths as Kyungsoo rides Jongin. Kyungsoo moves slowly, and Jongin moans softly as he savors the sensations, the pressure building more and more intensely in his groin. It's many minutes later when the two men finally come apart in a white hot flare of ecstasy, and a mingling of tongues and I love yous.
"Did you find it? The space you wanted?" Jongin asks as Kyungsoo lays sprawled above him in an elegant tangle of limbs.
"Too much. There was too much of it. I didn't care for the space so much after a while." Kyungsoo's fingertips skate across the flat, hard planes of Jongin's belly as he continues solemnly, "But I meant what I said all those months ago, Jongin. We need time to hang out with our own friends as well, on our own. And I won't give up photography. I love you and I ... I don't deal well without you, I think you know that already, but we need to make some compromises. I need to be able to do my things too, my Kyungsoo-without-Jongin things. And you should find your own Jongin-without-Kyungsoo things too. We've been with each other for so long we've almost lost our sense of who we are without each other and that's not healthy. If we go back to the way things were, I can't promise I won't leave again. But it won't be for long because I can't ... I can't be without you, Jongin. So I'd rather not experience the pain of the last three and a half months again."
"One hundred and eleven."
"What?"
"We were apart for one hundred and eleven days."
"Jongin, you kept count?" Kyungsoo's eyes fill with something that looks like pain.
"It wasn't on purpose, but I lost my centre, Soo. You were my center. I didn't know what to do with myself at first and I guess the counting helped give the days some structure." Jongin's fingers trail over Kyungsoo's almost shyly, and their fingers entwine.
"Did you find some Jongin-without-Kyungsoo things to do when I wasn't here?" Kyungsoo's fingers stroke Jongin's right temple. They've been deprived of each other's touch for so long that they find themselves constantly reaching out to make tactile imprints on each other's skin, reveling in the fact that they're inhabiting the same space again.
"I did, it was good for me. But I don't think the wooden surfaces in this place will need polishing for a year, maybe two." Jongin said matter of factly and his soul soared at the sound of Kyungsoo's velvet smooth laughter.
"You hate housework!"
"I hated drowning in memories of us more and housework helped me to blank out."
"But did you find something other than housework to occupy you, Jongin, because housework isn't exactly a hobby." Kyungsoo's fingertips make comforting pressure trails on his scalp and Jongin's entire body goes limp at the pleasure and the knowing that he's finally here. Kyungsoo is here.
"I did. A colleague suggested I take up rock climbing at the center downtown and I went in thinking I'd give it one shot to get him off my case but I ended up loving it. You should try it sometime, Soo. You might like it." Jongin says as he lazily nibbles on Kyungsoo's right earlobe.
"Don't expect to see my ass scaling a wall of rock anytime soon, Kim Jongin!" Kyungsoo laughs.
"That's fine. You can take photos of my ass scaling a wall of rock instead," Jongin's kiss is a sweet tentative thing.
"I've missed this ass." Kyungsoo gropes Jongin's butt playfully but his eyes are intense with emotion as he says, "And I've missed this hair and this face. Let's not do this again, Jongin."
"Why didn't you take the mug? And the shirt?" Jongin asks carefully, trying his best not to show how hurt he'd been that Kyungsoo had left the two things left behind.
"I left them behind on purpose."
"Because they didn't mean anything to you anymore?"
"Because I was always going to come home. I left them here so you'd know I was coming home." Kyungsoo smiles wistfully just before he leans up and kisses Jongin, "No matter what happens, I'll always come back to you, Jongin, because you're my center too, my home."
"I love you so much, Soo, and I'm so glad you're back." Jongin hugs him tightly, tears flowing down his cheeks.
"I'm glad I'm back too. I love you, Jongin. You'll always be my coffee cup. Always." Kyungsoo adds at the end and it's so unexpected that Jongin laughs and Kyungsoo joins him.
As they share a lingering kiss and hold each other close, the words resound elatedly through Jongin's mind:
Kyungsoo is home. Kyungsoo is finally home.
~FIN