[exo] how am i supposed to breathe (when all my heart does is bleed)
|| jongin x yixing; minor implied! luhan x yixing || r || romance, angst ||
warning: #HowToGrammar // disclaimer: copyright infringement not intended.
summary: second chances don't come along just because you want them to.
a/n: part 1/3
***
how am i supposed to breathe
(when all my heart does is bleed) ;;
Cold. So cold it reaches down to your very bones - seeping into your blood. So cold it penetrates your veins, numbs your heart and ultimately - inevitably - freezes your soul. Like a thousand knives coming at you - piercing through skin and slicing past flesh. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Your senses are encased in ice. You’re frozen, buried alive in an icy tomb.
-
Jongin wakes up abruptly in the middle of a night, heart pounding furiously in his chest - the fabric of his pyjamas clinging uncomfortably onto his lean body. The beads of perspiration, the small miniscule droplets of cold sweat feel alarmingly like a thin layer of liquid on his burning feverish skin. Like an unwanted second skin wrapping relentlessly around him, preventing the flow of oxygen from reaching him, cruelly cutting off his air supply. He struggles with himself, clenching his eyes shut and tries to break free, to breathe again. Jongin feels stifled, he feels so suffocated, and it frustrates him to the point of tears forming and prickling at the edges of his obsidian orbs.
And as he lays there, chest heaving and breaths coming out in harsh ragged gasps - as he continues to struggle for air, Jongin feels the dark shadows - the lingering ghosts- of his nightmare fade and vanish. Only to be confronted with reality. A reality that is more frightening than any nightmare Jongin has ever had. The reality that he’s all alone in this cold cold world.
A strangled sob escapes Jongin as his heart aches suddenly - a solitary tear making its way down a cheek. Jongin knows the exact reason for the pain, and the knowledge has him shoving the bedcovers aside in annoyance. He sits up; legs bent and elbows resting atop his knees. Taking his spinning head into his trembling hands, Jongin’s fingers clutch at his midnight black hair, and starts pulling and tugging at it. He parts his dry cracked lips and lets out a growl, a low growl of helplessness. Jongin’s confused. So confused. He doesn’t know what to do, what to feel. Jongin is lost, floating around aimlessly, neither here nor there.
A cool breeze floats by, entering through the open windows, and gently caresses Jongin’s heated skin. The young man relishes in the sensation, lifting his head up and letting his hands fall to his sides, as he inhales deeply. A small smile makes its way to his lips as the air rushes straight into his lungs. A smile that gets erased as soon as it appears. The wind smells faintly of Jasmine. His favorite flower. Jongin’s blinks the traitorous tears away as he swallows the lump in his throat.
He hastily looks around for something to distract him from the rising feeling of despair in the pits of his stomach, the feeling of anguish, the dreaded feeling of loss. Jongin’s gaze falls onto the right side of his bed - it’s cold and empty.
Jongin’s heart clenches painfully and it gets so hard to breathe again.
The room is deadly silent, like an abandoned graveyard. The silence is overwhelming, eerie, and yet at the same time, it’s loud. So loud, deafeningly loud.
Jongin wants to scream, wants to do something, anything to break the silence - the silence which is slowly but surely eating him inside, killing him softly bit by little bit. So he takes in a shuddering breath, throws his head back, and lets an agonized scream claw and tear itself out from his throat.
Jongin screams till the air in his lungs run out, he screams till his throat feels strained. He screams out, long and hard. Jongin screams till his voice cracks, till his eyes start to water.
Till tears start flowing from the dark pools of his eyes.
And then it’s quiet again. But this time, the silence is punctuated by the sounds of laboured breathing and muffled sobs.
Trembling hand against mouth, Jongin valiantly tries to stifle his cries. His cheeks are wet, his vision blurring, his eyes drowning.
It’s silent, so silent. Jongin cannot hear anything. He cannot hear anything but the ghosts of yesterdays. His voice, his words, his laughter. His whispers and his breath against his ear.
Yixing.
Jongin hears Yixing, and he wants so much to ignore it - to brush it away, to erase it from his mind.
Jongin wants to forget the way how that melodious voice had sounded to him - warm, mellow, and comforting. Haunting. He wants to forget how the peals of laughter had tinkled magically in the breeze.
He wants to forget how Yixing had once whispered “I love you”.
Jongin wants so much to forget, but at the same time, he’s afraid of losing the memories - he doesn’t want to let go of all the snapshots stored in his mind. Jongin knows he’s holding onto something that has been long gone, something that doesn’t belong to him anymore. He knows very well that he’s foolishly and desperately clinging on to the past when he should let go, but Jongin has always been a stubborn kid. Holding onto nothing but fading shadows, yesterdays’ ghosts.
He hates that he hurts, he hates that he’s hurting so much. Jongin has always hated the feeling of hurt, of being in pain. Yixing had once told him that the ability to feel pain was what makes them human, because how can there be a rainbow if there’s no rain. How can a person feel happiness if he’s never experienced pain. Jongin had chuckled at the cheesy words as he nods his agreement - if only to humor the older boy. Jongin thinks that if being human means that he has to undergo such agony, he’d rather be dead. But he knows, deep down, that the heartbreak he’s experiencing is proof that the limited time they spent together is actually a reality and not just a fleeting dream.
A reality that feels so very much like a far-away dream. A reality that has passed its expiration date. A reality, which can only be relived in memories. A story which has ended before its allocated time-span, never to be continued.
A story never to be completed.
A story which has been plagued by hesitations and regret.
-
“Hello. Can I take your order sir?”
Kim Jongin, nineteen, spared the cashier a quick glance before returning his attention to the huge menu mounted on the wall. He frowns slightly at the number of items there is, the different types of beverages. Why the hell does a coffee place have so many variations of the same thing anyway? Caffeine is caffeine, who cares if there’s caramel, whipped cream, or green tea extract in it? Green tea in coffee? Is that even legal? Jongin fights down the urge to shudder.
Jongin has never been in such places before, always bullying Joonmyun or Sehun into grabbing him something whenever he has a craving.
“Sir? Your order?” the cashier spoke up again, frowning slightly. Jongin notes that the cashier is a girl, a petite little thing, with bleached hair and purple streaks in the white blonde strands. He also notes that she’s looking at him with a perplexed expression. Jongin’s brows furrow.
“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not doing anything to you.”
The cashier, Becca - her name tag reads, rolls her eyes and grits out. “Yes sir, but you’re in a queue at a coffee place and when the cashier asks you for your order; you give her you freaking order.”
Jongin’s frown deepens, and he looks over his shoulder. Turning back to face the irate girl, he places his palms on the counter top and leans forward. “Tell me Becca. Do you have the ability to see ghosts? Because there’s no one behind me and so technically speaking, I’m not in a queue. Am I right?”
Straightening back up and crossing his arms across his chest, Jongin sends a wide grin in her direction - amusement dancing in his eyes.
There’s a loud snort somewhere behind him as Becca throws up her hands and mutters, “Oh my god, he’s insane.” Squinting her eyes and shooting Jongin a glare, she raises her voice and calls out. “Oy! Zhang Yixing, come here to deal with this lunatic.”
“Yah! I’m no longer an employee here so I suggest you deal with your own shit. And I have half a mind to tell management about how you’re treating your customers so you better watch it.”
Jongin turns around and sees a young man seated at one of the tables with a half-eaten muffin in his hands. The man, Zhang Yixing presumably, shoots a look at Jongin and grins. Jongin shrugs off the strange lurch he gets in his stomach and raises an eyebrow in his direction.
Kim Jongin does not smile at random strangers in a coffee house with ridiculous menus and employees. No matter how cute said stranger is.
“Oppa, Yixing oppa,” Becca says as she steps out from behind the counter and walks towards the still grinning man. Stopping at his table, she pastes a smile on her face. “Fuck you okay, fuck you.”
Yixing’s grin widens as he raises a hand to gently pat the girl’s cheek. “Sorry honey, but you’re not exactly my type.” He lets his gaze run along the length of her body. “Too much fire. I’m afraid I won’t have enough in me to put out the flames.”
The petite cashier rolls her eyes and walks away. “Go to hell Yixing.”
“You’ll miss me too much,” laughs Yixing as he raises the muffin to his lips.
Realising that Jongin is still standing at the counter; he sighs and looks at his muffin with a longing expression, before putting it down and makes to stand up. Brushing off the crumbs from his clothes, he begins walking towards the counter, gentle smile playing on his lips. He stops beside Jongin, leans his side against the wood and asks - mischief lacing his voice and sparkling in his eyes. “Ready to order now, sir?”
Jongin notes with sharp eyes that Zhang Yixing was a few centimeters shorter than him, has fair skin, a head of reddish-brown hair, dancing mocha brown eyes, a delicate nose, and a pair of luscious looking lips colored in the perfect shade of pale pink. Jongin notes that this Zhang Yixing looks nothing short of beautiful.
Yixing laughs breezily and cocks his head to one side as he looks at the dazed young man. “Not decided yet huh.”
Jongin feels his brain get short-circuited when he hears wind chimes in the air and sees a dimple indented into Yixing’s left cheek. He stares unabashedly at the man in front of him, his hazy mind urging him to reach out a hand and touch a cheek, to press into the softness with his fingers. A soft cough wakes him up from his reverie and he realizes that Yixing is peering up at him with an expression of bemusement.
“Sorry, I er..i don’t really come to places like this and well, I don’t know what to order?” Jongin mutters - face heating up in embarrassment and hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his nape.
“Oh! That’s perfectly alright. Go on and take a seat, I’ll get you something,” Yixing smiles brightly at him before heading into the small kitchen.
Jongin stands there blankly- completely disarmed by that dancing dimple - for a minute, feeling his heartbeat kick up a notch. His mind swirls into a confusing array of emotions and he frowns lightly at all the different feelings.
He’s once again shaken out of his trance by Yixing when the latter sticks his head out from behind the door and makes a shooing motion with his hands. Once he disappears back into the kitchen, Jongin shakes his head to clear his thoughts and heads for the table where Yixing was seated.
Jongin sits rigidly on a wooden chair and proceeds to attempt sorting out all the conflicting voices in his head. He-he’s just taken aback by Zhang Yixing’s pretty face that’s all, blown away by that beauty. He isn’t, he’s not..he couldn’t be falling.
“Here you go,” a Styrofoam cup is placed before him. Yixing sits on the chair facing Jongin across the table. Resting his elbows on the table, face in his palms, Yixing quirks an eyebrow and looks pointedly at the cup. “I’m not sure if it’s to your liking or not, but try it anyways. Chocolate latte with a dollop of whipped cream. One of my favorites.”
Jongin looks at the bright grin on Yixing’s face and slowly brings the drink to his lips. He takes a sip and immediately gets a sugar rush. Fighting to keep his face from scrunching up, he mumbles under his breath. “It’s um, a little too sweet for my liking.”
“Should I get you something with less sugar then? I mean, you’re here as a customer after all, and customers always come first so - “
Jongin cuts him off by reaching over cover Yixing’s hand with his own. “It’s alright, really,” he smiles. “I’m sure I can get used to the taste after a while.”
Yixing looks at him in surprise before looking down at their hands - Jongin’s over his. Jongin gets hit by a sudden wave of self-consciousness and he hurries to retract his hand. “Sorry about that.” Yixing simply waves off the apology with a flick of his hand and a roll of his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t have to apologize for that.”
“You’re a strange one aren’t you,” he laughs good-naturedly, eyes squinting slightly in amusement at Jongin.
Jongin’s head jerks up at the sound of twinkling bells and he finds himself gazing at bright alive brown eyes and perfect pink lips that were slightly curled upwards around the edges. He also finds himself speechless, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He makes a strange gurgling noise at the back of his throat and promptly wishes for the ground to open up and swallow him.
Yixing leans forward in his seat and peers curiously into his face. “Hey. You alright? Your face has gone red.” Placing a hand on Jongin’s forehead, he mutters under his breath. “You’re not having a sudden attack of fever are you?” When Jongin shakes his head slowly only to nod furiously soon after, he laughs again and sits back down.
“You’re cute you know,” Yixing grins - the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I still haven’t found out what your name is. Maybe you want to tell me? Just so I don’t feel like such a creep calling a nameless stranger cute? I’m Zhang Yixing by the way, if you didn’t already know.”
Jongin feels time slowing down and hears the soft lub dub lub dub beneath his ribcage. He finds no explanation as to why he simply can’t seem to look away from this Zhang Yixing’s face. He can’t explain why he’s so attracted and drawn to those perfectly- shaped lips.
Jongin wonders how that mouth would taste beneath his own. The thought shakes him rudely from his reverie because dammit, he had just fantasized about kissing a stranger.
Kim Jongin doesn’t believe in love. He does not fall for anyone. Ever.
When he realizes rather belatedly that Yixing is still looking at him expectedly with shining eyes, a small sheepish smile creeps onto his face.
“Jongin, Kim Jongin. It’s nice to meet you Zhang Yixing,” he says, internally marvelling over the way those foreign syllables roll off his tongue.
Jongin thinks, as he enters a dream-like trance, that the name is absolutely beautiful - perfect for such a beautiful boy.
He forgets that he doesn’t believe in the thing called love.
But when he hears musical giggles fill the air, when Yixing says It’s nice to meet you too Kim Jongin, he decides that maybe, just maybe, it’s alright to forget every once in a while.
-*&*-
It takes Jongin only a total of 5 minutes to find himself completely at ease in Yixing’s presence. He finds that the other man effortlessly radiates a comforting warmth, a very attractive and pleasant aura. Yixing is friendly, exceptionally so, and it proves to be a good thing. Jongin has always been a person who takes his time when it comes to warming up to people, and the fact that Zhang Yixing has managed to get his guard down in a span of a few short minutes, only served to make himself that more attractive in the calculative and skeptical eyes of Jongin.
Jongin finds himself laughing unreservedly at Yixing’s jokes, some of them rather weird but the wide smile on Yixing’s face makes up for it anyway. He opens himself up to the other man, talking about his family, his friends, his hobbies and what he’s studying. Oh! You dance too? That’s just plain awesome dude.
He finds out that Yixing comes from a place in China called Changsha, that he’s a year older than Jongin himself, and that he loves snacking. It’s a good thing I don’t gain weight that easily then, he laughs easily - the laugh that Jongin has fallen in love with.
Jongin finds out that Yixing is a majoring in music, Hey! We should totally do a collaboration one day; it’ll blow people’s minds with our awesomeness!, and Jongin finds himself wishing that that day would come sooner rather than later.
“But you’ve never seen my dance,” Jongin says. “How do you know if I’m any good?”
Yixing simply shoots him a cryptic smile - complete with wriggling eyebrows - and taps his nose. “I just do.”
Yixing works part-time as a dance instructor in that studio down Namsan Street every Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes on Sundays, from 6 to 10 in the evenings. “You should pop by if you have the time!” exclaims the older boy. Jongin had nodded rather energetically with a grin threatening to split his face.
And on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he teaches guitar for free down at the orphanage. "Sometimes the kids request for piano music as well. They don’t have a piano though, so I just make do with the portable keyboard that I bring along." Yixing had said all these with a gentle smile and a fond expression upon his face.
Jongin decides that Yixing is a genuinely nice person, and he gets a little more attracted to the older boy. But still, doesn’t he get tired from running all over Seoul for his jobs? Jongin voices out the concern with a slight frown and gets a slight shrug and soft smile as a response. “Sure it’s tiring, but I enjoy what I do and the smiles on those children’s face make it all worth it.”
“Is that why you quit your job here? Since you’re so busy making little kids happy?” Jongin suddenly asks with a grin attached on his lips.
Yixing looked at him with surprise briefly before throwing his head back and breaking out into peals of laughter. “Well yes, that and I couldn’t stand working with an emotionally unstable girl anymore,” he smirks - leaning forward and dropping his voice dramatically. “The boss’s daughter is difficult to be around with, to say the least.”
“You mean Becca? She’s the daughter of your ex-boss?”
“Of course. I mean, why else would she dare to be so rude to customers and not worry of being fired?” replies Yixing. “Oh wait, I have a text. Let’s see...”
Jongin watches as Yixing’s eyes widen comically and a look of horror gets plastered to his face. “Shit shit shit, I’m so dead. He’s going to slaughter me,” the words spew out the older boy’s mouth as he jumps to his feet and grabs his bag.
Swinging the backpack over his shoulder, Yixing looks over at a slightly stunned Jongin and grabs the latter’s hand - giving it a quick shake. “It was nice meeting you Jongin. I wish we had more time to talk but I really have to go now. Bye!”
Jongin quickly get to his feet and calls out to the hurriedly retreating back. “Yixing wait!,” the boy turns around with wide orbs. He’s fidgeting on the spot as if he has ants in his pants, and Jongin would have chuckled at the sight if he wasn’t worried about never seeing the other boy again. “At least give me your number,” he blurts out.
Yixing stares blankly at him for a quick second before an impish grin spreads out across his cheeks. “My mama says never to give out my number that easily. See you around Jongin!,” he gives Jongin a wave, and before the younger boy can utter a word, he’s already flying out the door.
“What the actual fuck was that about?”
Jongin hears a loud snort and spins around to the sight of Becca trying valiantly to keep a straight face.
The young man briefly looks over his shoulder at the glass door where Yixing had just disappeared from, takes his phone out of the pocket of his dark red skinnies, and struts over to the pint-sized girl.
Pasting a seductive smirk on his face, the one that he knew made people go weak in the knees, Jongin reaches out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Becca’s ear.
“Be a sweetheart and give me his number will you?’
-*&*-
Yixing is running flat-out towards the university auditorium, dodging people left right and center, when he sees Jongdae waving his arms frantically in the air. He skids to a halt in front of his constipated-looking junior, bent over double and clutching his side - chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
As he attempts to catch his breath, Yixing faintly hears Jongdae ranting and rattling on like a bullet train about how much trouble he was in. It’s difficult making sense of the words over the loud pounding of blood in his ears and his erratic breathing.
“…and I’m telling you that you’re so dead and - “
“Jongdae dude, relax yes?,” Yixing manages to choke out once his heartbeat has slowed down. “You’ll still have your hyung when this is over. Don’t worry, I won’t die that easily.”
The younger boy looks like his eyes are going to pop out of his sockets as he grabs Yixing by the shoulders. “Xing Xing hyung,” he whines. “Are you even listening to me? We’re talking about Kris here! Oh my god, he’ll be so furious. Why the hell are you so late anyways?!”
Yixing shrugs lightly and shoots Jongdae a dimpled grin. “I kind of met someone?”
“Alright alright,” he hurries to sling an arm over Jongdae’s shoulders and begins steering them to the auditorium. The boy had a twitching eye which reminded Yixing of old Mr. Chen who had a stroke just a few days ago. “We’ll sneak in from the back okay? And I’ll treat you to a meal when it’s over.”
Jongdae huffs and crosses his arms, saying nothing. “Aww come on. I already said I’m sorry. No wait,” frowns the older boy. “Actually I haven’t but whatever. You know I’m sorry right?”
“We’re getting beef at Kyungsoo’s restaurant,” Jongdae says, giving Yixing a pointed look. “You’re getting me beef if you want my forgiveness hyung.”
“Beef?! At Kyungsoo’s? You must be out of your m -,” Jongdae quirks a brow at him.”Okay fine. I’ll get you beef. But must it be at Kyungsoo’s? It’s so expensive and we both know you’re a pig.”
“My forgiveness is at stake here, Xing hyung,” he pauses then smirks at the older boy. “Don’t worry, I bet Kyungsoo hyung will get us a special discount if I bring Baek along.”
“Baekhyun’s coming too? But that means two pigs!,” Yixing pretends to sob hysterically. When he sees that Jongdae is simply staring at him with a blank look, he gives up.
“You’re lucky you’re one of my favorite juniors,” glares the older boy. “There goes half of my salary.”
“I’m warning you though, if you order a ridiculous amount of food, I’m running out of the restaurant and you can jolly well wave goodbye to a hyung who spoils you way too much,” a frown appears on Yixing’s face. “You know what, order as much as you can. That way I’ll be rid of you forever.”
"Don’t be so dramatic hyung, you know perfectly well you love me too much to ever leave. And hey! Guess what? I love you too.”
He shoots a cheeky grin in the older boy’s direction.
Yixing merely grunts and mumbles, “Yeah yeah..if you say so Jongdae.” His phone buzzes. “Oh wait. A message,” he turns his gaze over to the younger, who is disturbingly making kissy-faces at him. Rolling his eyes and snorting at the absurd behavior of his younger friend, Yixing unlocks the sleek black device in his hands.
The words that greet him has him smiling like an idiot.
<< Did you really think you could just run off like that? You owe me big time for the things I had to do to persuade that bitch into giving me your number. >>
“Zhang Yixing! Kim Jongdae! Why the fuck are you not inside?!”
Yixing looks up and gulps.
Ah crap.
-
The only source of light comes from the silver orb hanging in the velvet black sky. The soft moon beams shines over Jongin, and he shivers at the eerie glow casted on his skin.
The young man reaches out a hand for the photo frame that he has on his bedside table. He looks at the picture with a longing expression in his eyes and a growing ache in his heart.
Jongin rapidly blinks away the tears that are forming and threatening to spill over - he cannot afford to have his vision blurred now. His fingers ghost over one of the smiling faces and the hairline fracture in his heart widens to a gaping hole. He lets out a soft whimper - he knows that the hole will probably never heal, never be mended. And he has no one to blame but himself. The one at fault is him, only him, and the knowledge has him reeling in despair. Regret’s a fucking bitch, Jongin thinks. Too bad that bitch is here to stay, to haunt me forever.
Jongin’s mind begins to wander to all the what ifs, the what could have beens, and the what should have beens.
Till it gets too painful for him to think of all the possibilities, the wasted opportunities. The openings he missed, and the closings he didn’t have a say in - the heart-wrenching goodbye that had happened all because of his own stupidity, his blindness. Till the regret gets too much for him to bear.
He’s in the middle of a sea of anguish, an ocean of pain, and he’s drowning. Drowning - struggling for air as the waves crash upon him, swallowing him, engulfing him. Eating him alive.
Jongin chokes on air, and struggles to breathe again.
-
Part two.
warning: #HowToGrammar // disclaimer: copyright infringement not intended.
summary: second chances don't come along just because you want them to.
a/n: part 1/3
***
how am i supposed to breathe
(when all my heart does is bleed) ;;
Cold. So cold it reaches down to your very bones - seeping into your blood. So cold it penetrates your veins, numbs your heart and ultimately - inevitably - freezes your soul. Like a thousand knives coming at you - piercing through skin and slicing past flesh. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Your senses are encased in ice. You’re frozen, buried alive in an icy tomb.
-
Jongin wakes up abruptly in the middle of a night, heart pounding furiously in his chest - the fabric of his pyjamas clinging uncomfortably onto his lean body. The beads of perspiration, the small miniscule droplets of cold sweat feel alarmingly like a thin layer of liquid on his burning feverish skin. Like an unwanted second skin wrapping relentlessly around him, preventing the flow of oxygen from reaching him, cruelly cutting off his air supply. He struggles with himself, clenching his eyes shut and tries to break free, to breathe again. Jongin feels stifled, he feels so suffocated, and it frustrates him to the point of tears forming and prickling at the edges of his obsidian orbs.
And as he lays there, chest heaving and breaths coming out in harsh ragged gasps - as he continues to struggle for air, Jongin feels the dark shadows - the lingering ghosts- of his nightmare fade and vanish. Only to be confronted with reality. A reality that is more frightening than any nightmare Jongin has ever had. The reality that he’s all alone in this cold cold world.
A strangled sob escapes Jongin as his heart aches suddenly - a solitary tear making its way down a cheek. Jongin knows the exact reason for the pain, and the knowledge has him shoving the bedcovers aside in annoyance. He sits up; legs bent and elbows resting atop his knees. Taking his spinning head into his trembling hands, Jongin’s fingers clutch at his midnight black hair, and starts pulling and tugging at it. He parts his dry cracked lips and lets out a growl, a low growl of helplessness. Jongin’s confused. So confused. He doesn’t know what to do, what to feel. Jongin is lost, floating around aimlessly, neither here nor there.
A cool breeze floats by, entering through the open windows, and gently caresses Jongin’s heated skin. The young man relishes in the sensation, lifting his head up and letting his hands fall to his sides, as he inhales deeply. A small smile makes its way to his lips as the air rushes straight into his lungs. A smile that gets erased as soon as it appears. The wind smells faintly of Jasmine. His favorite flower. Jongin’s blinks the traitorous tears away as he swallows the lump in his throat.
He hastily looks around for something to distract him from the rising feeling of despair in the pits of his stomach, the feeling of anguish, the dreaded feeling of loss. Jongin’s gaze falls onto the right side of his bed - it’s cold and empty.
Jongin’s heart clenches painfully and it gets so hard to breathe again.
The room is deadly silent, like an abandoned graveyard. The silence is overwhelming, eerie, and yet at the same time, it’s loud. So loud, deafeningly loud.
Jongin wants to scream, wants to do something, anything to break the silence - the silence which is slowly but surely eating him inside, killing him softly bit by little bit. So he takes in a shuddering breath, throws his head back, and lets an agonized scream claw and tear itself out from his throat.
Jongin screams till the air in his lungs run out, he screams till his throat feels strained. He screams out, long and hard. Jongin screams till his voice cracks, till his eyes start to water.
Till tears start flowing from the dark pools of his eyes.
And then it’s quiet again. But this time, the silence is punctuated by the sounds of laboured breathing and muffled sobs.
Trembling hand against mouth, Jongin valiantly tries to stifle his cries. His cheeks are wet, his vision blurring, his eyes drowning.
It’s silent, so silent. Jongin cannot hear anything. He cannot hear anything but the ghosts of yesterdays. His voice, his words, his laughter. His whispers and his breath against his ear.
Yixing.
Jongin hears Yixing, and he wants so much to ignore it - to brush it away, to erase it from his mind.
Jongin wants to forget the way how that melodious voice had sounded to him - warm, mellow, and comforting. Haunting. He wants to forget how the peals of laughter had tinkled magically in the breeze.
He wants to forget how Yixing had once whispered “I love you”.
Jongin wants so much to forget, but at the same time, he’s afraid of losing the memories - he doesn’t want to let go of all the snapshots stored in his mind. Jongin knows he’s holding onto something that has been long gone, something that doesn’t belong to him anymore. He knows very well that he’s foolishly and desperately clinging on to the past when he should let go, but Jongin has always been a stubborn kid. Holding onto nothing but fading shadows, yesterdays’ ghosts.
He hates that he hurts, he hates that he’s hurting so much. Jongin has always hated the feeling of hurt, of being in pain. Yixing had once told him that the ability to feel pain was what makes them human, because how can there be a rainbow if there’s no rain. How can a person feel happiness if he’s never experienced pain. Jongin had chuckled at the cheesy words as he nods his agreement - if only to humor the older boy. Jongin thinks that if being human means that he has to undergo such agony, he’d rather be dead. But he knows, deep down, that the heartbreak he’s experiencing is proof that the limited time they spent together is actually a reality and not just a fleeting dream.
A reality that feels so very much like a far-away dream. A reality that has passed its expiration date. A reality, which can only be relived in memories. A story which has ended before its allocated time-span, never to be continued.
A story never to be completed.
A story which has been plagued by hesitations and regret.
-
“Hello. Can I take your order sir?”
Kim Jongin, nineteen, spared the cashier a quick glance before returning his attention to the huge menu mounted on the wall. He frowns slightly at the number of items there is, the different types of beverages. Why the hell does a coffee place have so many variations of the same thing anyway? Caffeine is caffeine, who cares if there’s caramel, whipped cream, or green tea extract in it? Green tea in coffee? Is that even legal? Jongin fights down the urge to shudder.
Jongin has never been in such places before, always bullying Joonmyun or Sehun into grabbing him something whenever he has a craving.
“Sir? Your order?” the cashier spoke up again, frowning slightly. Jongin notes that the cashier is a girl, a petite little thing, with bleached hair and purple streaks in the white blonde strands. He also notes that she’s looking at him with a perplexed expression. Jongin’s brows furrow.
“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m not doing anything to you.”
The cashier, Becca - her name tag reads, rolls her eyes and grits out. “Yes sir, but you’re in a queue at a coffee place and when the cashier asks you for your order; you give her you freaking order.”
Jongin’s frown deepens, and he looks over his shoulder. Turning back to face the irate girl, he places his palms on the counter top and leans forward. “Tell me Becca. Do you have the ability to see ghosts? Because there’s no one behind me and so technically speaking, I’m not in a queue. Am I right?”
Straightening back up and crossing his arms across his chest, Jongin sends a wide grin in her direction - amusement dancing in his eyes.
There’s a loud snort somewhere behind him as Becca throws up her hands and mutters, “Oh my god, he’s insane.” Squinting her eyes and shooting Jongin a glare, she raises her voice and calls out. “Oy! Zhang Yixing, come here to deal with this lunatic.”
“Yah! I’m no longer an employee here so I suggest you deal with your own shit. And I have half a mind to tell management about how you’re treating your customers so you better watch it.”
Jongin turns around and sees a young man seated at one of the tables with a half-eaten muffin in his hands. The man, Zhang Yixing presumably, shoots a look at Jongin and grins. Jongin shrugs off the strange lurch he gets in his stomach and raises an eyebrow in his direction.
Kim Jongin does not smile at random strangers in a coffee house with ridiculous menus and employees. No matter how cute said stranger is.
“Oppa, Yixing oppa,” Becca says as she steps out from behind the counter and walks towards the still grinning man. Stopping at his table, she pastes a smile on her face. “Fuck you okay, fuck you.”
Yixing’s grin widens as he raises a hand to gently pat the girl’s cheek. “Sorry honey, but you’re not exactly my type.” He lets his gaze run along the length of her body. “Too much fire. I’m afraid I won’t have enough in me to put out the flames.”
The petite cashier rolls her eyes and walks away. “Go to hell Yixing.”
“You’ll miss me too much,” laughs Yixing as he raises the muffin to his lips.
Realising that Jongin is still standing at the counter; he sighs and looks at his muffin with a longing expression, before putting it down and makes to stand up. Brushing off the crumbs from his clothes, he begins walking towards the counter, gentle smile playing on his lips. He stops beside Jongin, leans his side against the wood and asks - mischief lacing his voice and sparkling in his eyes. “Ready to order now, sir?”
Jongin notes with sharp eyes that Zhang Yixing was a few centimeters shorter than him, has fair skin, a head of reddish-brown hair, dancing mocha brown eyes, a delicate nose, and a pair of luscious looking lips colored in the perfect shade of pale pink. Jongin notes that this Zhang Yixing looks nothing short of beautiful.
Yixing laughs breezily and cocks his head to one side as he looks at the dazed young man. “Not decided yet huh.”
Jongin feels his brain get short-circuited when he hears wind chimes in the air and sees a dimple indented into Yixing’s left cheek. He stares unabashedly at the man in front of him, his hazy mind urging him to reach out a hand and touch a cheek, to press into the softness with his fingers. A soft cough wakes him up from his reverie and he realizes that Yixing is peering up at him with an expression of bemusement.
“Sorry, I er..i don’t really come to places like this and well, I don’t know what to order?” Jongin mutters - face heating up in embarrassment and hand scratching awkwardly at the back of his nape.
“Oh! That’s perfectly alright. Go on and take a seat, I’ll get you something,” Yixing smiles brightly at him before heading into the small kitchen.
Jongin stands there blankly- completely disarmed by that dancing dimple - for a minute, feeling his heartbeat kick up a notch. His mind swirls into a confusing array of emotions and he frowns lightly at all the different feelings.
He’s once again shaken out of his trance by Yixing when the latter sticks his head out from behind the door and makes a shooing motion with his hands. Once he disappears back into the kitchen, Jongin shakes his head to clear his thoughts and heads for the table where Yixing was seated.
Jongin sits rigidly on a wooden chair and proceeds to attempt sorting out all the conflicting voices in his head. He-he’s just taken aback by Zhang Yixing’s pretty face that’s all, blown away by that beauty. He isn’t, he’s not..he couldn’t be falling.
“Here you go,” a Styrofoam cup is placed before him. Yixing sits on the chair facing Jongin across the table. Resting his elbows on the table, face in his palms, Yixing quirks an eyebrow and looks pointedly at the cup. “I’m not sure if it’s to your liking or not, but try it anyways. Chocolate latte with a dollop of whipped cream. One of my favorites.”
Jongin looks at the bright grin on Yixing’s face and slowly brings the drink to his lips. He takes a sip and immediately gets a sugar rush. Fighting to keep his face from scrunching up, he mumbles under his breath. “It’s um, a little too sweet for my liking.”
“Should I get you something with less sugar then? I mean, you’re here as a customer after all, and customers always come first so - “
Jongin cuts him off by reaching over cover Yixing’s hand with his own. “It’s alright, really,” he smiles. “I’m sure I can get used to the taste after a while.”
Yixing looks at him in surprise before looking down at their hands - Jongin’s over his. Jongin gets hit by a sudden wave of self-consciousness and he hurries to retract his hand. “Sorry about that.” Yixing simply waves off the apology with a flick of his hand and a roll of his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t have to apologize for that.”
“You’re a strange one aren’t you,” he laughs good-naturedly, eyes squinting slightly in amusement at Jongin.
Jongin’s head jerks up at the sound of twinkling bells and he finds himself gazing at bright alive brown eyes and perfect pink lips that were slightly curled upwards around the edges. He also finds himself speechless, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He makes a strange gurgling noise at the back of his throat and promptly wishes for the ground to open up and swallow him.
Yixing leans forward in his seat and peers curiously into his face. “Hey. You alright? Your face has gone red.” Placing a hand on Jongin’s forehead, he mutters under his breath. “You’re not having a sudden attack of fever are you?” When Jongin shakes his head slowly only to nod furiously soon after, he laughs again and sits back down.
“You’re cute you know,” Yixing grins - the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But I still haven’t found out what your name is. Maybe you want to tell me? Just so I don’t feel like such a creep calling a nameless stranger cute? I’m Zhang Yixing by the way, if you didn’t already know.”
Jongin feels time slowing down and hears the soft lub dub lub dub beneath his ribcage. He finds no explanation as to why he simply can’t seem to look away from this Zhang Yixing’s face. He can’t explain why he’s so attracted and drawn to those perfectly- shaped lips.
Jongin wonders how that mouth would taste beneath his own. The thought shakes him rudely from his reverie because dammit, he had just fantasized about kissing a stranger.
Kim Jongin doesn’t believe in love. He does not fall for anyone. Ever.
When he realizes rather belatedly that Yixing is still looking at him expectedly with shining eyes, a small sheepish smile creeps onto his face.
“Jongin, Kim Jongin. It’s nice to meet you Zhang Yixing,” he says, internally marvelling over the way those foreign syllables roll off his tongue.
Jongin thinks, as he enters a dream-like trance, that the name is absolutely beautiful - perfect for such a beautiful boy.
He forgets that he doesn’t believe in the thing called love.
But when he hears musical giggles fill the air, when Yixing says It’s nice to meet you too Kim Jongin, he decides that maybe, just maybe, it’s alright to forget every once in a while.
-*&*-
It takes Jongin only a total of 5 minutes to find himself completely at ease in Yixing’s presence. He finds that the other man effortlessly radiates a comforting warmth, a very attractive and pleasant aura. Yixing is friendly, exceptionally so, and it proves to be a good thing. Jongin has always been a person who takes his time when it comes to warming up to people, and the fact that Zhang Yixing has managed to get his guard down in a span of a few short minutes, only served to make himself that more attractive in the calculative and skeptical eyes of Jongin.
Jongin finds himself laughing unreservedly at Yixing’s jokes, some of them rather weird but the wide smile on Yixing’s face makes up for it anyway. He opens himself up to the other man, talking about his family, his friends, his hobbies and what he’s studying. Oh! You dance too? That’s just plain awesome dude.
He finds out that Yixing comes from a place in China called Changsha, that he’s a year older than Jongin himself, and that he loves snacking. It’s a good thing I don’t gain weight that easily then, he laughs easily - the laugh that Jongin has fallen in love with.
Jongin finds out that Yixing is a majoring in music, Hey! We should totally do a collaboration one day; it’ll blow people’s minds with our awesomeness!, and Jongin finds himself wishing that that day would come sooner rather than later.
“But you’ve never seen my dance,” Jongin says. “How do you know if I’m any good?”
Yixing simply shoots him a cryptic smile - complete with wriggling eyebrows - and taps his nose. “I just do.”
Yixing works part-time as a dance instructor in that studio down Namsan Street every Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes on Sundays, from 6 to 10 in the evenings. “You should pop by if you have the time!” exclaims the older boy. Jongin had nodded rather energetically with a grin threatening to split his face.
And on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he teaches guitar for free down at the orphanage. "Sometimes the kids request for piano music as well. They don’t have a piano though, so I just make do with the portable keyboard that I bring along." Yixing had said all these with a gentle smile and a fond expression upon his face.
Jongin decides that Yixing is a genuinely nice person, and he gets a little more attracted to the older boy. But still, doesn’t he get tired from running all over Seoul for his jobs? Jongin voices out the concern with a slight frown and gets a slight shrug and soft smile as a response. “Sure it’s tiring, but I enjoy what I do and the smiles on those children’s face make it all worth it.”
“Is that why you quit your job here? Since you’re so busy making little kids happy?” Jongin suddenly asks with a grin attached on his lips.
Yixing looked at him with surprise briefly before throwing his head back and breaking out into peals of laughter. “Well yes, that and I couldn’t stand working with an emotionally unstable girl anymore,” he smirks - leaning forward and dropping his voice dramatically. “The boss’s daughter is difficult to be around with, to say the least.”
“You mean Becca? She’s the daughter of your ex-boss?”
“Of course. I mean, why else would she dare to be so rude to customers and not worry of being fired?” replies Yixing. “Oh wait, I have a text. Let’s see...”
Jongin watches as Yixing’s eyes widen comically and a look of horror gets plastered to his face. “Shit shit shit, I’m so dead. He’s going to slaughter me,” the words spew out the older boy’s mouth as he jumps to his feet and grabs his bag.
Swinging the backpack over his shoulder, Yixing looks over at a slightly stunned Jongin and grabs the latter’s hand - giving it a quick shake. “It was nice meeting you Jongin. I wish we had more time to talk but I really have to go now. Bye!”
Jongin quickly get to his feet and calls out to the hurriedly retreating back. “Yixing wait!,” the boy turns around with wide orbs. He’s fidgeting on the spot as if he has ants in his pants, and Jongin would have chuckled at the sight if he wasn’t worried about never seeing the other boy again. “At least give me your number,” he blurts out.
Yixing stares blankly at him for a quick second before an impish grin spreads out across his cheeks. “My mama says never to give out my number that easily. See you around Jongin!,” he gives Jongin a wave, and before the younger boy can utter a word, he’s already flying out the door.
“What the actual fuck was that about?”
Jongin hears a loud snort and spins around to the sight of Becca trying valiantly to keep a straight face.
The young man briefly looks over his shoulder at the glass door where Yixing had just disappeared from, takes his phone out of the pocket of his dark red skinnies, and struts over to the pint-sized girl.
Pasting a seductive smirk on his face, the one that he knew made people go weak in the knees, Jongin reaches out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Becca’s ear.
“Be a sweetheart and give me his number will you?’
-*&*-
Yixing is running flat-out towards the university auditorium, dodging people left right and center, when he sees Jongdae waving his arms frantically in the air. He skids to a halt in front of his constipated-looking junior, bent over double and clutching his side - chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
As he attempts to catch his breath, Yixing faintly hears Jongdae ranting and rattling on like a bullet train about how much trouble he was in. It’s difficult making sense of the words over the loud pounding of blood in his ears and his erratic breathing.
“…and I’m telling you that you’re so dead and - “
“Jongdae dude, relax yes?,” Yixing manages to choke out once his heartbeat has slowed down. “You’ll still have your hyung when this is over. Don’t worry, I won’t die that easily.”
The younger boy looks like his eyes are going to pop out of his sockets as he grabs Yixing by the shoulders. “Xing Xing hyung,” he whines. “Are you even listening to me? We’re talking about Kris here! Oh my god, he’ll be so furious. Why the hell are you so late anyways?!”
Yixing shrugs lightly and shoots Jongdae a dimpled grin. “I kind of met someone?”
“Alright alright,” he hurries to sling an arm over Jongdae’s shoulders and begins steering them to the auditorium. The boy had a twitching eye which reminded Yixing of old Mr. Chen who had a stroke just a few days ago. “We’ll sneak in from the back okay? And I’ll treat you to a meal when it’s over.”
Jongdae huffs and crosses his arms, saying nothing. “Aww come on. I already said I’m sorry. No wait,” frowns the older boy. “Actually I haven’t but whatever. You know I’m sorry right?”
“We’re getting beef at Kyungsoo’s restaurant,” Jongdae says, giving Yixing a pointed look. “You’re getting me beef if you want my forgiveness hyung.”
“Beef?! At Kyungsoo’s? You must be out of your m -,” Jongdae quirks a brow at him.”Okay fine. I’ll get you beef. But must it be at Kyungsoo’s? It’s so expensive and we both know you’re a pig.”
“My forgiveness is at stake here, Xing hyung,” he pauses then smirks at the older boy. “Don’t worry, I bet Kyungsoo hyung will get us a special discount if I bring Baek along.”
“Baekhyun’s coming too? But that means two pigs!,” Yixing pretends to sob hysterically. When he sees that Jongdae is simply staring at him with a blank look, he gives up.
“You’re lucky you’re one of my favorite juniors,” glares the older boy. “There goes half of my salary.”
“I’m warning you though, if you order a ridiculous amount of food, I’m running out of the restaurant and you can jolly well wave goodbye to a hyung who spoils you way too much,” a frown appears on Yixing’s face. “You know what, order as much as you can. That way I’ll be rid of you forever.”
"Don’t be so dramatic hyung, you know perfectly well you love me too much to ever leave. And hey! Guess what? I love you too.”
He shoots a cheeky grin in the older boy’s direction.
Yixing merely grunts and mumbles, “Yeah yeah..if you say so Jongdae.” His phone buzzes. “Oh wait. A message,” he turns his gaze over to the younger, who is disturbingly making kissy-faces at him. Rolling his eyes and snorting at the absurd behavior of his younger friend, Yixing unlocks the sleek black device in his hands.
The words that greet him has him smiling like an idiot.
<< Did you really think you could just run off like that? You owe me big time for the things I had to do to persuade that bitch into giving me your number. >>
“Zhang Yixing! Kim Jongdae! Why the fuck are you not inside?!”
Yixing looks up and gulps.
Ah crap.
-
The only source of light comes from the silver orb hanging in the velvet black sky. The soft moon beams shines over Jongin, and he shivers at the eerie glow casted on his skin.
The young man reaches out a hand for the photo frame that he has on his bedside table. He looks at the picture with a longing expression in his eyes and a growing ache in his heart.
Jongin rapidly blinks away the tears that are forming and threatening to spill over - he cannot afford to have his vision blurred now. His fingers ghost over one of the smiling faces and the hairline fracture in his heart widens to a gaping hole. He lets out a soft whimper - he knows that the hole will probably never heal, never be mended. And he has no one to blame but himself. The one at fault is him, only him, and the knowledge has him reeling in despair. Regret’s a fucking bitch, Jongin thinks. Too bad that bitch is here to stay, to haunt me forever.
Jongin’s mind begins to wander to all the what ifs, the what could have beens, and the what should have beens.
Till it gets too painful for him to think of all the possibilities, the wasted opportunities. The openings he missed, and the closings he didn’t have a say in - the heart-wrenching goodbye that had happened all because of his own stupidity, his blindness. Till the regret gets too much for him to bear.
He’s in the middle of a sea of anguish, an ocean of pain, and he’s drowning. Drowning - struggling for air as the waves crash upon him, swallowing him, engulfing him. Eating him alive.
Jongin chokes on air, and struggles to breathe again.
-
Part two.