when it's dark
→ chanyeol/kai, pg, married models au, 394 words
→ occurs after i'll burn myself and before love is swinging in the air tonight.
→ inspired by this.
→ nat u call me satan so here i am doing hell’s work ^-^ i hope YOU ARE UNHAPPY READING THIS because then i have done my job c: (i love you, keep @-ing me pics)
→ originally posted at tumblr.
jongin is alone in new york, and lets himself hate chanyeol.
There is a time after Jongin and Chanyeol break up that Jongin lets himself hate Chanyeol, and wish they’d never met. He’s in New York for fashion week, and he’s learned how much unhappiness Chanyeol could bring because now Jongin hates New York when it once had been a place where a dream came true.
Jongin is drunk and cold and unhappy. Jongin is also alone having rejected invitations to a night out in the city from friends he hasn’t seen since last year, not willing to risk that chance of running into Chanyeol. He’s acting cowardly, he knows, but he’s not ready to see Chanyeol smiling from the presence of others not him. There’s a dark space in Jongin’s heart, quiet and locked inside, that is wildly jealous and obsessive, that is (was, Jongin tries to convince himself on any other day) so in love with Chanyeol it wants to keep the brightness of his being inside the walls of his chest. It tells Jongin that Chanyeol is his, still and always, and Jongin tells it no, not tonight. Not any more.
Tired, Jongin sits at the top of the flight of stairs, and leans his head against the wall. At the bottom of the steps are two payphones; Jongin used the last of his change for a ticket. He takes the phone out of his jacket, spins it in his hands. Even if he were to call Chanyeol, Jongin doesn’t have his number. Jongin had told him, the day before Chanyeol left for New York, that they couldn’t be friends any more. Chanyeol looked at him, face stricken from love, eyes pleading for Jongin to be kinder, but he stayed quiet. He knew Jongin, better than anyone has ever managed, knew that his heart was asking for too much, so he let Jongin have his way, he owed him that much, and broke up with him.
“Re-bye, Jongin,” Chanyeol had said to him, and those last words ring in Jongin’s ears as he fiddles with the keypad of his phone. He lets himself wonder what Chanyeol had wanted to say before he cut himself off, wonders if it’d make him feel better or worse. His fingers itch for a cigarette, but he finished his last one only minutes earlier.
→ occurs after i'll burn myself and before love is swinging in the air tonight.
→ inspired by this.
→ nat u call me satan so here i am doing hell’s work ^-^ i hope YOU ARE UNHAPPY READING THIS because then i have done my job c: (i love you, keep @-ing me pics)
→ originally posted at tumblr.
jongin is alone in new york, and lets himself hate chanyeol.
There is a time after Jongin and Chanyeol break up that Jongin lets himself hate Chanyeol, and wish they’d never met. He’s in New York for fashion week, and he’s learned how much unhappiness Chanyeol could bring because now Jongin hates New York when it once had been a place where a dream came true.
Jongin is drunk and cold and unhappy. Jongin is also alone having rejected invitations to a night out in the city from friends he hasn’t seen since last year, not willing to risk that chance of running into Chanyeol. He’s acting cowardly, he knows, but he’s not ready to see Chanyeol smiling from the presence of others not him. There’s a dark space in Jongin’s heart, quiet and locked inside, that is wildly jealous and obsessive, that is (was, Jongin tries to convince himself on any other day) so in love with Chanyeol it wants to keep the brightness of his being inside the walls of his chest. It tells Jongin that Chanyeol is his, still and always, and Jongin tells it no, not tonight. Not any more.
Tired, Jongin sits at the top of the flight of stairs, and leans his head against the wall. At the bottom of the steps are two payphones; Jongin used the last of his change for a ticket. He takes the phone out of his jacket, spins it in his hands. Even if he were to call Chanyeol, Jongin doesn’t have his number. Jongin had told him, the day before Chanyeol left for New York, that they couldn’t be friends any more. Chanyeol looked at him, face stricken from love, eyes pleading for Jongin to be kinder, but he stayed quiet. He knew Jongin, better than anyone has ever managed, knew that his heart was asking for too much, so he let Jongin have his way, he owed him that much, and broke up with him.
“Re-bye, Jongin,” Chanyeol had said to him, and those last words ring in Jongin’s ears as he fiddles with the keypad of his phone. He lets himself wonder what Chanyeol had wanted to say before he cut himself off, wonders if it’d make him feel better or worse. His fingers itch for a cigarette, but he finished his last one only minutes earlier.