You Are Here
Title: You Are Here
Pairing: Minho/Key - OC(faceless, unknown)/Key
Rating: PG-13 for language
A/N: Watch out for grammatical errors and typos ugh ew and this is also nearly the same situation that inspired Buckets and yeah ugh.
At least I'm done crying now.
---
It had started off so sweetly, I’d like to think. It was college, we were young and fresh-faced and still naïve about the world. We made friends and we had our cliques and somehow we had been thrown together. As friends, at first. You would tease me about my hair or my clothes and I would just roll my eyes and make some homophobic comment about the lacrosse team. You just let it roll off of your shoulders in a way that I was envious of, because I had a habit of holding grudges for way too long, I had a habit of not being able to forgive easily and smile often like you.
But it’s not like either of us could have seen it coming. When the teasing breached that line of teasing and somehow turned into insinuation, sweet insinuations of things that neither of us knew about but were curious about all the same. Soon we sailed those uncharted waters and you were so amazing, so gorgeous when in the midst of it all you told me I was beautiful and you had eyes only for me. I was on cloud nine and you were my angel of a best friend, my lover, my confidante.
However… Fate had different plans.
And it’s not like we can rewind time and get your brother back. It’s not like I can be mad at God for deciding that it was his time to go, it’s not like I can wish for all alcohol to be banned and wish for that drunk driver to not have been on the road at the same time as your brother. It’s not like I can do much of anything. So when you left, when you said you’d think of me often and cherish me, I could only nod, smile lightly, and believe you.
And tell you to take care.
It was shortly after that, that I started to write in a notebook that you left behind in our shared dorm. I didn’t allow anyone else to move in because I wanted to savor your presence, your scent, the few trinkets you left behind, that you may have forgotten but I knew better. I knew that you left them so I could see them and admire them and think of you whenever I looked at that stupid Picasso painting on the wall or even made sure to not knock over that wolf figurine on the desk.
I had my own diary that I wrote in constantly, but those were personal things directed at myself, towards others. But you left behind a notebook and I always wondered, did you know? Did you mean to? Its pages were empty and the spine still straight, the cover pink and simple. You hated pink. I can only try to fool my mind into thinking that you left it here specifically for me.
And so the letters started, the letters that I constantly wrote to you that I would never send, that you would never see, that no one else would ever read. The letters that I poured my heart and soul into, the letters that I wanted to write and then burn and send the ashes on the wind and hope that maybe my unspoken words would reach your ears, wherever you were.
But you had told me to move on, to find happiness in your leave. I didn’t want to. God, did I just want to sit and cling on to that one sweatshirt that I stole from you when you came home all sweaty and gross from a lacrosse game, the sweatshirt that still smelled like your scent and your deodorant and your shampoo. But I wanted to prove to you that I could, that I wasn’t completely useless without you.
So I did.
At least, I tried.
I had met him, then, and now he’s nameless and faceless from all the torment he put me through. He had told me he loved me, that he could erase any pain you left behind and fill your empty space. In the back of my mind I knew he never could do either of those things but for face I let him think he could. I smiled and I laughed and I was foolishly led to believe that this man was the one, the one I could spend the rest of my life with.
He proposed and there was no ring but I accepted anyhow. He scooped me up into his life but I must not have been enough. Again I was feeling useless as I felt him growing distant, closer and closer to our wedding date and finally the bomb dropped and my world collapsed.
I thought I had better friends than that, but I know why he left me to find solstice in one of my friends. I was useless, utterly useless just like I had feared, and then cast aside to lick my wounds and hang my head and seek comfort in the one real friend that I had. He reminded me a lot of you, he was laid back and smiley and my best friend. He had been there when you left, he had been there when my fiancé left. He never complained, actually he never really spoke much now that I think of it. Just full of laughter, smiles, hugs, and kisses on my cheek along with encouraging words that one day I’ll be useful again.
But I couldn’t help it. When my fiancé left me that was the first day I opened up that untouched notebook of yours and touched my pen to the surface.
February 24th, 2010
“I just want you to know that I miss you and I'm staying strong. I think about you often. I smile about you often.
And today when I ran out of smiles, I remembered that a part of you is still here with me, and I felt elated.
I hope you're staying strong and doing well, too. It's been almost two months, please be healthy and well.
I just... feel a little lost lately, and couldn't find a good outlet to express myself to, so I came here. It almost feels like talking to a gravestone.
Anyway... I miss you.”
I had set the pen down and stared at my girly handwriting that you used to make fun of me for, as tears welled up in my eyes. It was useless, writing that out to you, useless much like myself but I still couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.
It really was talking like a gravestone. Sometimes I felt like when your brother died, a part of you died, too. I know you were close and I know you had a responsibility with your family to take care of and that I really shouldn’t have been so selfish because damn, how big of a prick could I be? Really, being so selfish to think that you might have stayed for me or even that you would come back for me… I know a lot of people tell me I have screwed up priorities but you were always my priority. Maybe that’s why they’re so screwed up.
But I continued on with my life. I forgot about the asshole that used me to get what he wanted, sick physical pleasure that apparently I was quite good at giving. I wasn’t a slut by means but word spread fast and… well. I’m sure you could just imagine the outcome of that. I studied my ass off not only so I could pass all of my classes but so I could forget about you. Well, not forget about you, but maybe try to push the ache into the back of my mind, try to move past the nausea that I woke up with every morning because I started to realize that your sweater was starting to smell more like me than it smelled like you.
Another friend had left, about a month after you did. He was like a retarded husband to me. But an incident with his family brought him away and I found myself wondering if God had a personal grudge against me, or that if maybe your family and his family hated me and didn’t want either of you around me because it just wasn’t fair. I had cried and I had fussed and I told him that he better not break any bones or anything else for that matter because he’s a huge yutz - you used to make fun of me and mockingly call me ‘mom’ but you’ve known from the beginning how I am.
And so I had opened up that notebook again, tapping the pen a few times on the paper before letting my handwriting scrawl over the paper, decidedly a lot messier than the girly script from the first entry.
March 18th, 2010
“I don't know why I keep coming here.
I don't know why I can't let things go.
I don't know why, if I'm so fabulous, the people that matter keep going away.
And you know I'm f a b u l o u s.~
... Ugh, who am I kidding.
I miss you so much.
I shouldn't.
But I do.
I'm trying because you told me to.
But I'm failing. Miserably, horribly...
And yet, I'm never the one that leaves.
I'm the one that's left behind.
I'm here because it clears my head. Makes me think about how pathetic I'm acting, hah.
Knowing that when I write this, it'll disappear into your notebook and stay unread to the rest of the world.
Even to you.
Fuck, I should just get another diary.
... Well I did but I've already forgotten about it and I hate writing because I get wrist cramps and I can't read my handwriting anyway--
God, Minho.
The moment you said "you're mine", I haven't stopped being yours.
What does that make me, now?
Maybe for once I'll be the one to leave, I feel like I'm cheating people.
Even though I get cheated first.
It was all a game... and now I've forgotten the rules and started making them up as I go.
I don't know if I want to win, anymore.”
And yet again I stared at the entry and scolded myself because I knew I was being ridiculous, writing things that you would never read, never see. So I tried to move on, and yet it was the next day - the next day when I found out I was failing two of my four classes, when I lost my part-time job, when my parents informed me that they were getting a divorce - that I broke down and could do nothing but write words out to you.
March 19th, 2010
“Stuff like this shouldn't be so frustrating. It shouldn't. I'm starting to think that maybe I should save these and just write a fucking novel.
Sometimes I just run in circles, round and round and round and it's ridiculous.
I can't help but wonder how you're doing.
Part of me wants you to never come back so you don't have to see these pathetic notes, the other part of me just wants... what? What would happen if you came back? Would I forget everything that's happened in the past few months and just run back to you? Would I push all of my loved ones aside just to get a taste of you?
Jonghyun gets worried about me occasionally, almost like he knows. Taemin, too - oh, Taemin knows way more than he should, it reminds me every day that he's not our adorable maknae that we wish he'd stay. It's a bit scary when he can look me in the eyes and say 'umma, stop hurting'.
I wish I could.
No matter what I do part of me was taken with you when you left. I'd like to say that I want that part back but it'd be a lie because then you wouldn't have that part with you. Make sense? Not really.
God. You're so infuriating. Getting rid of everyone else in your life, leaving me there for everyone to see. I can't decide if I'm mocked or flattered. It's a stupid combination of both and it just makes my gut twist.
Onew-hyung is gone, now, too. I wasn't as floored as when you left. I even had the chance to beg him to stay but I didn't.
So many call me a fool but I know only a fool could be a genius when it comes to matters of the heart.
Why am I doing this...
I miss you. Still.”
And it’s at this point in my story that we find me, closing your notebook and standing up, working at the kinks in my neck and drying my tears because honestly, I can’t not cry whenever I write in that book. There’s a picture of us in a frame on the desk, too, and God we look like such idiots, smiling and giving peace signs. Shaking my head, I let a smile slip through.
It’s been three months and still no sign from you. Not a telephone call, not a letter - none of our mutual friends even know where you went. They don’t understand my desperation though, no one knew about our relationship. It’s not that we didn’t want to be found out, it’s because it was our secret, our special thing that no one else knew about that we could keep to ourselves and enjoy selfishly.
I step back and flop onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a sigh. I briefly think about the homework that’s spread on my own desk, and then sit up, staring across the room at your empty, perfectly made bed. I haven’t washed the sheets, I haven’t touched it - you were always a bit anal about how the blankets got tucked under the mattresses. Contemplating taking a nap on it, I get distracted as a knock sounds on the door and I flop backwards again, assuming it’s Jonghyun coming to try and get me to go out to eat with him.
“It’s open,” I say, and the handle jiggles and the door opens in a way that’s completely unlike Jonghyun’s way of opening doors, which is just barging in and announcing his presence in the most boisterous way possible.
It’s quiet, it’s tame like the person that’s opening it doesn’t want to disturb the occupant. I sit up and feel my heart stop for three seconds before the blood rushes to my head and leaves me feeling dizzy and breathless, tears wetting my eyes as his face greets my vision for the first time in three months.
“Er…” he steps inside and shuts the door behind him, looking sheepish. “There’s really no way to say it after being gone for so long but…” he runs a hand through his hair, which is way longer than I remember it being. “Honey, I’m home.”
I’m not sure what happened next but I know that I left a dumbfounded Minho behind as I grabbed my satchel and tore out of that room and flew down the hallway of the dorm to the elevators, nearly jamming my thumb as I tried to get the elevator to come to my level. I shouldn’t have reacted like that but what could I have done? My heart and my mind were in two different places and I just couldn’t take it.
After about three hours of wandering around campus to try and clear my head, I decide I should finally go back to my dorm. Maybe it was just my imagination? Maybe he’s really not there and I just thought it all up because my depression was making me so lonesome for him.
I open the door and peek inside, and my heart hammers in my chest as I see him seated on his bed, the pink notebook in his hands. He’s staring at it with intense concentration and I used to joke that he could set anything on fire with that gaze, but now it really looks like the notebook might spontaneously combust.
I shut the door behind me and he looks up, his smile soft as he sets the notebook aside. I take a breath to steel myself and gather my thoughts - as if I hadn’t been gathering them for the past few hours - and then start to speak, staring at the floor.
“It's been 3 months. Over three months. I can't explain to you how much I've missed you.” I lick my lips and refuse to look up. I can’t. “My mind... just can't wrap around this. And I've never been so frustrated because you told me not to wait, you told me to go on ahead and not wile away waiting for you.” I shook my head, tears starting to form. “I've been waiting for you since the day we met and that-- the reality of that sinks in now. Now, when I've been through so much shit that I really should just smack you right across the face but...” I take another breath; I’m rambling, I know it, he knows it but he allows it because I know he knows I need this. “You know you have me wrapped around your finger and you know I could never hate you or truly be mad at you. And that in itself is just a huge... conundrum and it's just retarded ok?” I ran a hand through my hair, nearly grumbling. “My head still isn't clear even after a few hours of me trying to figure myself out. You, Choi Minho,” I finally looked up and pointed at him, “are the biggest asshole on the planet.” I ran a hand over my features and sighed. “And it's been so long that I've felt so happy to see anyone and I've never wanted to pin someone to the ground and kiss them so badly. I guess what I mean to say is, fuck you, I've fallen for you.”
It’s the most I’ve talked since he left, to anyone or anything, even that stupid notebook that he just looked through, that he read everything in. I just want him to see, why can’t he see what I’ve gone through? I bury my face in my hands and he chuckles, standing up and moving to where I’m slumped against the door. His hands raise and rest against the wood on either side of my head, and I’m forced to look up into his handsome face.
“I’m not back for good,” he says, in that voice that haunted my dreams every night. “I’m only here for a while. But I see you’ve met someone…” he glances over at my bedside table, where there’s a picture of me and that friend, that friend that is so much like Minho - that friend that I decided to give a bit of my heart to, that friend that has been there for me flawlessly, effortlessly and selfishly and made me feel useful because I can make him smile. Because that friend, that is so much like Minho, started the tedious task of mending my heart. “I don’t mind that. I’m happy for you.” His voice brings me back and I bite my life in spite of myself. “He just better treat you well.”
“He treats me spectacular,” I interject and I’m not sure why I’m defending him. It’s not like Minho really cares about what kind of a guy he is, all he cares about is that I’m alright .And I am. I was. Until Minho came back. “I told you I’d wait, even when you told me not to…”
“Yeah, and you’re an idiot for it.” His words are slightly cold but there’s a smile on his lips. “I read everything you wrote.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks and suddenly I’m embarrassed. I really didn’t think he’d come back, ever, I didn’t think that he’d read those entries.
“Stop pretending that you’re so strong. I know you have everyone else fooled but you can’t fool me, Kibum.”
I huff slightly and tilt my chin up, “I’m strong.”
He cocks an eyebrow and I know he’s right, God do I know he’s right. I’m not strong. I’m so weak and he knows it and my boyfriend knows it and I don’t even know why I’m still here. Why I haven’t kicked Minho out of my (our) room, why I’m wanting him closer, why I just want to fell him all over again and cling on to him and never let him go because this can’t be real, this is a dream and he’s not really here and even as I feel his breath puffing over my face with his shallow breaths there’s no way this is happening.
I shake my head, and I’m surprised that I’m not crying right now. “I know… you’re right.”
All too soon he’s out of my bubble, out of my personal space and I want to draw him back in, I want to share oxygen with him and I just want to breathe him; my hands shoot out and clutch onto his jacket and I whimper, and he knows what I want, he knows that my knees are weak and my heart is pounding in my throat and I can barely breathe, I can barely see --
He grabs onto my hands and makes soft shushing noises, pulling me into his chest and finally I break down, I cry, I sob and it’s the most unattractive thing. I didn’t cry when he left, I put on a brave face and waved him off but now he’s seeing this side of me, this side that I’ve done nothing but experience for the past three months and fuck it hurts, it hurts so bad and even his arms around me are lessening the pain but somehow making it worse.
“Shhh. I’m here. I’m real.”
I really wish he couldn’t read my mind sometimes, but I just choke on a sob and press myself closer to him. I think about my boyfriend, I think about how careful he’s treated me and how well he’s treated me, how amazing and forgiving he is and how he looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing on the planet. I think about how he’ll be waiting for me to come over to his dorm later on so I can cook him dinner and we’ll have a romantic evening in. I think about how he knows about Minho, about how he knows that part of my heart is irrevocably attached to this man, and I think about how he understands. I think about anything and everything revolving around my boyfriend under the sun but it all leaves as soon as Minho starts to talk again.
“You don’t need me anymore, Kibum.”
My heart stops.
“And it kinda bums me out.” He chuckles.
I can only think kinda? It kinda bums him out? My world shattered when he left but when he comes back he’s only slightly disappointed that I’ve moved on.
“But I’m glad. Really, truly.”
I shake my head against his chest and my fingers curl into fists and I pound against his taller figure weakly, wishing that there was more force behind my hits. He grabs my wrists and stops my hitting and I hang my head, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to form any words even though my mind is running a million miles an hour and I know what he’s going to say.
“I don’t need to come back anymore. You have a guy that treats you like the Princess you and I know you are.” It’s an attempt at humor but I can only recall how he used to call me his Prinecss. “It’s unnecessary for me to be here. You have happiness. Just open your eyes.”
I keep shaking my head and I’m a bobblehead that’s on it’s side, endlessly moving my head, crying and sobbing with snot and tears running down my face and I know it’s not attractive and I know I’m not the same Kibum that this man left behind. This man that never told me he loved me even though I was always bursting at the seams to tell him - to tell him then that I loved him, to tell him now that I still love him no matter what.
He pulls me into a hug and I collapse against him but it’s brief and I know it’s hard for him.
“Take care of yourself, love.” I still shake my head. “Forgive easily and smile often.” I shake my head more furiously, I can’t forgive you for this, I won’t forgive you for this! “I love you.”
And like that, he’s gone, and I collapse onto my knees as the door shuts behind him, my hands chafing on the rough gritty carpet of the dorm and he’s really gone, I hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway until I hear nothing at all and my heart feels like it’s dropped into my stomach. I feel like I’m going to puke, and I just curl up there on the floor, snot and tears running down my face as I bawl into the night and I’m sure I’m waking people up but I don’t care.
The love of my life that I couldn’t hold on to reappeared in my life and walked out of it just as easily.
I curl in on myself and fall asleep there on the floor, still sobbing quietly in my sleep.
--
The next morning I stir and hiss in pain as my dorm door opens and my boyfriend’s face appears in my vision, as he kneels down next to me and helps me sit up, a concerned expression on his face.
“Hey, babe.” His voice is soft and he brushes some hair out of my eyes and I blink stupidly for a second, utterly confused. “I was worried when you didn’t show up or answer your phone all night…”
I wanted to snap at him, to tell him ‘well why didn’t you come and check on me, asshole’ but I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t want him to see me like how I was last night, ever. Even if he walks out of my life, too, I will never show anyone else that side of me. Wiping my face and my eyes, I grimace at the crustyness, and my boyfriend merely chuckles as he takes my hands and helps me to my feet.
“Study too hard?” he asks and I roll my eyes.
“Sure,” I say as I wipe my face again and pick up the notebook that Minho had left on his bed, putting it on the desk.
My boyfriend eyes the book, and I know he eyes the crinkled bed that is unused and usually pristine. He glances back over at me and I can’t meet his eyes; I stare at the floor and at my feet but a second pair of feet enters my vision and suddenly he tilts my chin up, looking into my eyes and I know he knows. There’s no way he can’t know.
But he offers an easy smile and I remember Minho’s last words and decide that I can’t forgive him, ever, but I’m going to anyway.
A sweet kiss is pressed to my lips, sweet words murmured against them as he grabs my hands and places them on his chest, over his heart.
“You are here.”
And with my eyes closed I just imagine a big sign board, one of those maps in giant malls where there’s a dot and an arrow that says YOU ARE HERE so you can pinpoint just where you are in life. But as I stare at that big signboard I see three hearts.
One heart has a dot in the middle. YOU ARE HERE.
The other heart has a bigger dot in the middle. I AM HERE.
And the last heart has a hole in the middle. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE HERE.
I smile a bit and open my eyes, returning the kiss.
“Thank you.”
Pairing: Minho/Key - OC(faceless, unknown)/Key
Rating: PG-13 for language
A/N: Watch out for grammatical errors and typos ugh ew and this is also nearly the same situation that inspired Buckets and yeah ugh.
At least I'm done crying now.
---
It had started off so sweetly, I’d like to think. It was college, we were young and fresh-faced and still naïve about the world. We made friends and we had our cliques and somehow we had been thrown together. As friends, at first. You would tease me about my hair or my clothes and I would just roll my eyes and make some homophobic comment about the lacrosse team. You just let it roll off of your shoulders in a way that I was envious of, because I had a habit of holding grudges for way too long, I had a habit of not being able to forgive easily and smile often like you.
But it’s not like either of us could have seen it coming. When the teasing breached that line of teasing and somehow turned into insinuation, sweet insinuations of things that neither of us knew about but were curious about all the same. Soon we sailed those uncharted waters and you were so amazing, so gorgeous when in the midst of it all you told me I was beautiful and you had eyes only for me. I was on cloud nine and you were my angel of a best friend, my lover, my confidante.
However… Fate had different plans.
And it’s not like we can rewind time and get your brother back. It’s not like I can be mad at God for deciding that it was his time to go, it’s not like I can wish for all alcohol to be banned and wish for that drunk driver to not have been on the road at the same time as your brother. It’s not like I can do much of anything. So when you left, when you said you’d think of me often and cherish me, I could only nod, smile lightly, and believe you.
And tell you to take care.
It was shortly after that, that I started to write in a notebook that you left behind in our shared dorm. I didn’t allow anyone else to move in because I wanted to savor your presence, your scent, the few trinkets you left behind, that you may have forgotten but I knew better. I knew that you left them so I could see them and admire them and think of you whenever I looked at that stupid Picasso painting on the wall or even made sure to not knock over that wolf figurine on the desk.
I had my own diary that I wrote in constantly, but those were personal things directed at myself, towards others. But you left behind a notebook and I always wondered, did you know? Did you mean to? Its pages were empty and the spine still straight, the cover pink and simple. You hated pink. I can only try to fool my mind into thinking that you left it here specifically for me.
And so the letters started, the letters that I constantly wrote to you that I would never send, that you would never see, that no one else would ever read. The letters that I poured my heart and soul into, the letters that I wanted to write and then burn and send the ashes on the wind and hope that maybe my unspoken words would reach your ears, wherever you were.
But you had told me to move on, to find happiness in your leave. I didn’t want to. God, did I just want to sit and cling on to that one sweatshirt that I stole from you when you came home all sweaty and gross from a lacrosse game, the sweatshirt that still smelled like your scent and your deodorant and your shampoo. But I wanted to prove to you that I could, that I wasn’t completely useless without you.
So I did.
At least, I tried.
I had met him, then, and now he’s nameless and faceless from all the torment he put me through. He had told me he loved me, that he could erase any pain you left behind and fill your empty space. In the back of my mind I knew he never could do either of those things but for face I let him think he could. I smiled and I laughed and I was foolishly led to believe that this man was the one, the one I could spend the rest of my life with.
He proposed and there was no ring but I accepted anyhow. He scooped me up into his life but I must not have been enough. Again I was feeling useless as I felt him growing distant, closer and closer to our wedding date and finally the bomb dropped and my world collapsed.
I thought I had better friends than that, but I know why he left me to find solstice in one of my friends. I was useless, utterly useless just like I had feared, and then cast aside to lick my wounds and hang my head and seek comfort in the one real friend that I had. He reminded me a lot of you, he was laid back and smiley and my best friend. He had been there when you left, he had been there when my fiancé left. He never complained, actually he never really spoke much now that I think of it. Just full of laughter, smiles, hugs, and kisses on my cheek along with encouraging words that one day I’ll be useful again.
But I couldn’t help it. When my fiancé left me that was the first day I opened up that untouched notebook of yours and touched my pen to the surface.
February 24th, 2010
“I just want you to know that I miss you and I'm staying strong. I think about you often. I smile about you often.
And today when I ran out of smiles, I remembered that a part of you is still here with me, and I felt elated.
I hope you're staying strong and doing well, too. It's been almost two months, please be healthy and well.
I just... feel a little lost lately, and couldn't find a good outlet to express myself to, so I came here. It almost feels like talking to a gravestone.
Anyway... I miss you.”
I had set the pen down and stared at my girly handwriting that you used to make fun of me for, as tears welled up in my eyes. It was useless, writing that out to you, useless much like myself but I still couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.
It really was talking like a gravestone. Sometimes I felt like when your brother died, a part of you died, too. I know you were close and I know you had a responsibility with your family to take care of and that I really shouldn’t have been so selfish because damn, how big of a prick could I be? Really, being so selfish to think that you might have stayed for me or even that you would come back for me… I know a lot of people tell me I have screwed up priorities but you were always my priority. Maybe that’s why they’re so screwed up.
But I continued on with my life. I forgot about the asshole that used me to get what he wanted, sick physical pleasure that apparently I was quite good at giving. I wasn’t a slut by means but word spread fast and… well. I’m sure you could just imagine the outcome of that. I studied my ass off not only so I could pass all of my classes but so I could forget about you. Well, not forget about you, but maybe try to push the ache into the back of my mind, try to move past the nausea that I woke up with every morning because I started to realize that your sweater was starting to smell more like me than it smelled like you.
Another friend had left, about a month after you did. He was like a retarded husband to me. But an incident with his family brought him away and I found myself wondering if God had a personal grudge against me, or that if maybe your family and his family hated me and didn’t want either of you around me because it just wasn’t fair. I had cried and I had fussed and I told him that he better not break any bones or anything else for that matter because he’s a huge yutz - you used to make fun of me and mockingly call me ‘mom’ but you’ve known from the beginning how I am.
And so I had opened up that notebook again, tapping the pen a few times on the paper before letting my handwriting scrawl over the paper, decidedly a lot messier than the girly script from the first entry.
March 18th, 2010
“I don't know why I keep coming here.
I don't know why I can't let things go.
I don't know why, if I'm so fabulous, the people that matter keep going away.
And you know I'm f a b u l o u s.~
... Ugh, who am I kidding.
I miss you so much.
I shouldn't.
But I do.
I'm trying because you told me to.
But I'm failing. Miserably, horribly...
And yet, I'm never the one that leaves.
I'm the one that's left behind.
I'm here because it clears my head. Makes me think about how pathetic I'm acting, hah.
Knowing that when I write this, it'll disappear into your notebook and stay unread to the rest of the world.
Even to you.
Fuck, I should just get another diary.
... Well I did but I've already forgotten about it and I hate writing because I get wrist cramps and I can't read my handwriting anyway--
God, Minho.
The moment you said "you're mine", I haven't stopped being yours.
What does that make me, now?
Maybe for once I'll be the one to leave, I feel like I'm cheating people.
Even though I get cheated first.
It was all a game... and now I've forgotten the rules and started making them up as I go.
I don't know if I want to win, anymore.”
And yet again I stared at the entry and scolded myself because I knew I was being ridiculous, writing things that you would never read, never see. So I tried to move on, and yet it was the next day - the next day when I found out I was failing two of my four classes, when I lost my part-time job, when my parents informed me that they were getting a divorce - that I broke down and could do nothing but write words out to you.
March 19th, 2010
“Stuff like this shouldn't be so frustrating. It shouldn't. I'm starting to think that maybe I should save these and just write a fucking novel.
Sometimes I just run in circles, round and round and round and it's ridiculous.
I can't help but wonder how you're doing.
Part of me wants you to never come back so you don't have to see these pathetic notes, the other part of me just wants... what? What would happen if you came back? Would I forget everything that's happened in the past few months and just run back to you? Would I push all of my loved ones aside just to get a taste of you?
Jonghyun gets worried about me occasionally, almost like he knows. Taemin, too - oh, Taemin knows way more than he should, it reminds me every day that he's not our adorable maknae that we wish he'd stay. It's a bit scary when he can look me in the eyes and say 'umma, stop hurting'.
I wish I could.
No matter what I do part of me was taken with you when you left. I'd like to say that I want that part back but it'd be a lie because then you wouldn't have that part with you. Make sense? Not really.
God. You're so infuriating. Getting rid of everyone else in your life, leaving me there for everyone to see. I can't decide if I'm mocked or flattered. It's a stupid combination of both and it just makes my gut twist.
Onew-hyung is gone, now, too. I wasn't as floored as when you left. I even had the chance to beg him to stay but I didn't.
So many call me a fool but I know only a fool could be a genius when it comes to matters of the heart.
Why am I doing this...
I miss you. Still.”
And it’s at this point in my story that we find me, closing your notebook and standing up, working at the kinks in my neck and drying my tears because honestly, I can’t not cry whenever I write in that book. There’s a picture of us in a frame on the desk, too, and God we look like such idiots, smiling and giving peace signs. Shaking my head, I let a smile slip through.
It’s been three months and still no sign from you. Not a telephone call, not a letter - none of our mutual friends even know where you went. They don’t understand my desperation though, no one knew about our relationship. It’s not that we didn’t want to be found out, it’s because it was our secret, our special thing that no one else knew about that we could keep to ourselves and enjoy selfishly.
I step back and flop onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting out a sigh. I briefly think about the homework that’s spread on my own desk, and then sit up, staring across the room at your empty, perfectly made bed. I haven’t washed the sheets, I haven’t touched it - you were always a bit anal about how the blankets got tucked under the mattresses. Contemplating taking a nap on it, I get distracted as a knock sounds on the door and I flop backwards again, assuming it’s Jonghyun coming to try and get me to go out to eat with him.
“It’s open,” I say, and the handle jiggles and the door opens in a way that’s completely unlike Jonghyun’s way of opening doors, which is just barging in and announcing his presence in the most boisterous way possible.
It’s quiet, it’s tame like the person that’s opening it doesn’t want to disturb the occupant. I sit up and feel my heart stop for three seconds before the blood rushes to my head and leaves me feeling dizzy and breathless, tears wetting my eyes as his face greets my vision for the first time in three months.
“Er…” he steps inside and shuts the door behind him, looking sheepish. “There’s really no way to say it after being gone for so long but…” he runs a hand through his hair, which is way longer than I remember it being. “Honey, I’m home.”
I’m not sure what happened next but I know that I left a dumbfounded Minho behind as I grabbed my satchel and tore out of that room and flew down the hallway of the dorm to the elevators, nearly jamming my thumb as I tried to get the elevator to come to my level. I shouldn’t have reacted like that but what could I have done? My heart and my mind were in two different places and I just couldn’t take it.
After about three hours of wandering around campus to try and clear my head, I decide I should finally go back to my dorm. Maybe it was just my imagination? Maybe he’s really not there and I just thought it all up because my depression was making me so lonesome for him.
I open the door and peek inside, and my heart hammers in my chest as I see him seated on his bed, the pink notebook in his hands. He’s staring at it with intense concentration and I used to joke that he could set anything on fire with that gaze, but now it really looks like the notebook might spontaneously combust.
I shut the door behind me and he looks up, his smile soft as he sets the notebook aside. I take a breath to steel myself and gather my thoughts - as if I hadn’t been gathering them for the past few hours - and then start to speak, staring at the floor.
“It's been 3 months. Over three months. I can't explain to you how much I've missed you.” I lick my lips and refuse to look up. I can’t. “My mind... just can't wrap around this. And I've never been so frustrated because you told me not to wait, you told me to go on ahead and not wile away waiting for you.” I shook my head, tears starting to form. “I've been waiting for you since the day we met and that-- the reality of that sinks in now. Now, when I've been through so much shit that I really should just smack you right across the face but...” I take another breath; I’m rambling, I know it, he knows it but he allows it because I know he knows I need this. “You know you have me wrapped around your finger and you know I could never hate you or truly be mad at you. And that in itself is just a huge... conundrum and it's just retarded ok?” I ran a hand through my hair, nearly grumbling. “My head still isn't clear even after a few hours of me trying to figure myself out. You, Choi Minho,” I finally looked up and pointed at him, “are the biggest asshole on the planet.” I ran a hand over my features and sighed. “And it's been so long that I've felt so happy to see anyone and I've never wanted to pin someone to the ground and kiss them so badly. I guess what I mean to say is, fuck you, I've fallen for you.”
It’s the most I’ve talked since he left, to anyone or anything, even that stupid notebook that he just looked through, that he read everything in. I just want him to see, why can’t he see what I’ve gone through? I bury my face in my hands and he chuckles, standing up and moving to where I’m slumped against the door. His hands raise and rest against the wood on either side of my head, and I’m forced to look up into his handsome face.
“I’m not back for good,” he says, in that voice that haunted my dreams every night. “I’m only here for a while. But I see you’ve met someone…” he glances over at my bedside table, where there’s a picture of me and that friend, that friend that is so much like Minho - that friend that I decided to give a bit of my heart to, that friend that has been there for me flawlessly, effortlessly and selfishly and made me feel useful because I can make him smile. Because that friend, that is so much like Minho, started the tedious task of mending my heart. “I don’t mind that. I’m happy for you.” His voice brings me back and I bite my life in spite of myself. “He just better treat you well.”
“He treats me spectacular,” I interject and I’m not sure why I’m defending him. It’s not like Minho really cares about what kind of a guy he is, all he cares about is that I’m alright .And I am. I was. Until Minho came back. “I told you I’d wait, even when you told me not to…”
“Yeah, and you’re an idiot for it.” His words are slightly cold but there’s a smile on his lips. “I read everything you wrote.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks and suddenly I’m embarrassed. I really didn’t think he’d come back, ever, I didn’t think that he’d read those entries.
“Stop pretending that you’re so strong. I know you have everyone else fooled but you can’t fool me, Kibum.”
I huff slightly and tilt my chin up, “I’m strong.”
He cocks an eyebrow and I know he’s right, God do I know he’s right. I’m not strong. I’m so weak and he knows it and my boyfriend knows it and I don’t even know why I’m still here. Why I haven’t kicked Minho out of my (our) room, why I’m wanting him closer, why I just want to fell him all over again and cling on to him and never let him go because this can’t be real, this is a dream and he’s not really here and even as I feel his breath puffing over my face with his shallow breaths there’s no way this is happening.
I shake my head, and I’m surprised that I’m not crying right now. “I know… you’re right.”
All too soon he’s out of my bubble, out of my personal space and I want to draw him back in, I want to share oxygen with him and I just want to breathe him; my hands shoot out and clutch onto his jacket and I whimper, and he knows what I want, he knows that my knees are weak and my heart is pounding in my throat and I can barely breathe, I can barely see --
He grabs onto my hands and makes soft shushing noises, pulling me into his chest and finally I break down, I cry, I sob and it’s the most unattractive thing. I didn’t cry when he left, I put on a brave face and waved him off but now he’s seeing this side of me, this side that I’ve done nothing but experience for the past three months and fuck it hurts, it hurts so bad and even his arms around me are lessening the pain but somehow making it worse.
“Shhh. I’m here. I’m real.”
I really wish he couldn’t read my mind sometimes, but I just choke on a sob and press myself closer to him. I think about my boyfriend, I think about how careful he’s treated me and how well he’s treated me, how amazing and forgiving he is and how he looks at me like I’m the most amazing thing on the planet. I think about how he’ll be waiting for me to come over to his dorm later on so I can cook him dinner and we’ll have a romantic evening in. I think about how he knows about Minho, about how he knows that part of my heart is irrevocably attached to this man, and I think about how he understands. I think about anything and everything revolving around my boyfriend under the sun but it all leaves as soon as Minho starts to talk again.
“You don’t need me anymore, Kibum.”
My heart stops.
“And it kinda bums me out.” He chuckles.
I can only think kinda? It kinda bums him out? My world shattered when he left but when he comes back he’s only slightly disappointed that I’ve moved on.
“But I’m glad. Really, truly.”
I shake my head against his chest and my fingers curl into fists and I pound against his taller figure weakly, wishing that there was more force behind my hits. He grabs my wrists and stops my hitting and I hang my head, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to form any words even though my mind is running a million miles an hour and I know what he’s going to say.
“I don’t need to come back anymore. You have a guy that treats you like the Princess you and I know you are.” It’s an attempt at humor but I can only recall how he used to call me his Prinecss. “It’s unnecessary for me to be here. You have happiness. Just open your eyes.”
I keep shaking my head and I’m a bobblehead that’s on it’s side, endlessly moving my head, crying and sobbing with snot and tears running down my face and I know it’s not attractive and I know I’m not the same Kibum that this man left behind. This man that never told me he loved me even though I was always bursting at the seams to tell him - to tell him then that I loved him, to tell him now that I still love him no matter what.
He pulls me into a hug and I collapse against him but it’s brief and I know it’s hard for him.
“Take care of yourself, love.” I still shake my head. “Forgive easily and smile often.” I shake my head more furiously, I can’t forgive you for this, I won’t forgive you for this! “I love you.”
And like that, he’s gone, and I collapse onto my knees as the door shuts behind him, my hands chafing on the rough gritty carpet of the dorm and he’s really gone, I hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway until I hear nothing at all and my heart feels like it’s dropped into my stomach. I feel like I’m going to puke, and I just curl up there on the floor, snot and tears running down my face as I bawl into the night and I’m sure I’m waking people up but I don’t care.
The love of my life that I couldn’t hold on to reappeared in my life and walked out of it just as easily.
I curl in on myself and fall asleep there on the floor, still sobbing quietly in my sleep.
--
The next morning I stir and hiss in pain as my dorm door opens and my boyfriend’s face appears in my vision, as he kneels down next to me and helps me sit up, a concerned expression on his face.
“Hey, babe.” His voice is soft and he brushes some hair out of my eyes and I blink stupidly for a second, utterly confused. “I was worried when you didn’t show up or answer your phone all night…”
I wanted to snap at him, to tell him ‘well why didn’t you come and check on me, asshole’ but I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t want him to see me like how I was last night, ever. Even if he walks out of my life, too, I will never show anyone else that side of me. Wiping my face and my eyes, I grimace at the crustyness, and my boyfriend merely chuckles as he takes my hands and helps me to my feet.
“Study too hard?” he asks and I roll my eyes.
“Sure,” I say as I wipe my face again and pick up the notebook that Minho had left on his bed, putting it on the desk.
My boyfriend eyes the book, and I know he eyes the crinkled bed that is unused and usually pristine. He glances back over at me and I can’t meet his eyes; I stare at the floor and at my feet but a second pair of feet enters my vision and suddenly he tilts my chin up, looking into my eyes and I know he knows. There’s no way he can’t know.
But he offers an easy smile and I remember Minho’s last words and decide that I can’t forgive him, ever, but I’m going to anyway.
A sweet kiss is pressed to my lips, sweet words murmured against them as he grabs my hands and places them on his chest, over his heart.
“You are here.”
And with my eyes closed I just imagine a big sign board, one of those maps in giant malls where there’s a dot and an arrow that says YOU ARE HERE so you can pinpoint just where you are in life. But as I stare at that big signboard I see three hearts.
One heart has a dot in the middle. YOU ARE HERE.
The other heart has a bigger dot in the middle. I AM HERE.
And the last heart has a hole in the middle. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE HERE.
I smile a bit and open my eyes, returning the kiss.
“Thank you.”