How long must I love you?
Title: How long must I love you?
Pairing: Sehun/Krystal, Kai/Krystal, Minho/Krystal
Genre: Romance/Angst; 2,276 w~
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Do you reckon this will all matter tomorrow or ten years from now?
► Because I need a goodbye post, okay lol. And besides my hiatus is in June. It isn't June yet /excuses pfft/ I wanted to write something before I go. Okay. Whatever. This will be one of my most favorite pieces ever, I think. I like how this turned out to be. This is for my Rizza-unnie (ﾉ^▽^)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Here's my love for your awesome support and for being the nicest not-related big sister ever. Plus the song was from my dad's playlist. I had to write this one down immediately.
"When they ask me how long I'm gonna love you
If the road to my heart will always stay true
I'll say forever for you"
Forever for you, Hall & Oates
( i )
He never liked women younger than he was, Soojung understood that part; how he always would prefer to play basketball in the afternoons even after trainings, and how he would want to sleep the stress away afterwards. What she didn’t comprehend much was why, despite knowing all of his quirks, his yes’ and no’s, that she tried, reluctantly, to win his heart every time, that oppa that is.
He had subtle imperfections though, hardly any if one preferred to overlook them (just as Soojung often did) and maybe that became her reason for liking him.
He was tall, the tallest among the group of boys he was set to be with as they were climbing fame mountain. Uphill he was going, as Soojung from below waited for him to come down, and he did -occasionally; Soojung never complained his kindness towards her, treatment much like a younger sister, Soojung really didn’t mind it (not too long before she found it odd already). Every time he smiled in her direction, she was unequivocally intoxicated by unsure feelings such as guilt and lust and the shallowest of them all, fabricated love.
Fabricated, as her older sister Sooyeon would define as flitting from one boy to another, as depending how well they would do her good, or how they might persuade her in the end into going out. That was Sooyeon after her break-up, the messed up aftermath of the only boy she ever love -that kind of fabrication insisted on dramas these days. But to this point, 2008 then, Jessica had transformed herself into a better woman when the cameras go on and Girls’ Generation was the highlight. The term, though, remained in Soojung’s little mind, and thus never completely forgetting it. Dramas were overrated -not really real, a fallacy indeed.
But when Choi Minho requested Soojung herself to appear in the music video of this supposed hit Juliette, she now lived a fair lie. After the filming, they had gone out and had coffee, talked a little too much of each other, and she was grinning (plus blushing) all the way back to the dormitory.
“Until next time, okay?” He said to her, kissing her cheek and she looked up at his assuring heroic face, and noticed heaven for the first time.
A year and couple of months later, hell finally went loose, without Krystal (then Jung Soojung) knowing why. Debuting in a group and having schedules left and right brought fences high, separating Minho and herself from each other and consuming their already little time to spend. Although she was climbing up right behind him to total recognition, there would always be things, uncontrollable things, that cause them to be another forgotten couple that even lunch at the company, they hardly sat together anymore.
It had became so horrible that Krystal couldn’t anymore sleep at night, couldn’t anymore perform that much better that she had begun to stand out, wrecked at once, her attitude considered rude now even to the media with the company doing their best to block off such things. She wasn’t herself anymore, wasn’t Jung Soojung anymore -but a notorious brat named Krystal, coming off as a bad name for her sister as well.
There was no call of ending, no such thing. Krystal remembered each piece of him in grief somehow, each part of him helping her up when she was down, fixing her already tired heart with a simple smile and the warmest hug he could only satisfy. At the end, dreading the same moments and being swooned by the same moments, Krystal would assure herself that it would get better, that this was just another thing that would prevent her from reaching the endgame -her endgame with Minho. In the end it would be them, even Minho knew of this, agreed to this through text messages and warm secret greetings in practice rooms.
But one day, before the distribution of lines and lessons on the choreography of Chu, Krystal found herself sobbing alone in her room back in the dormitory, wiping the tears and keeping her cell phone meters away from her as it rang ceaselessly. She threw her pillow, head craned against the wall as eyes continued to pour. Sulli, actually, liked to buzz her up for anything, anything that came up and she knew she had practice. But Krystal remained in bed, burying herself in the stuffed piglet pillow of hers.
It wasn’t Minho. He said he wouldn’t call her anymore. He said he wanted her to forget, needed her to move on. That their relationship wasn’t at all the fairytale fabrication, but the honest killer off to murder a sixteen year old’s heart. Minho was gone, and dating a noona to be exact and Krystal didn’t care which hurt harder: the fact that he was with someone else now, or that he was with someone else when they hadn’t even finished everything officially.
So much for first love stories.
( ii )
“Soojung.”
She stared right into his eyes, her trembling hands holding on to his shirt so very closely, her mouth trying to stay shut but couldn’t as she continued to squeal out loud, right in front of him and he couldn’t help himself from laughing. She thumped his shoulder angrily, unable to make anymore sudden movements.
“Okay, okay. I’m going back. I’m not going,” she hastily responded, moving away from him slowly before her foot slightly slipped at the ledge, a ear-piercing shriek again before he took her hand, wrapped his arm around her waist to flex her towards him and her attention was all his with this. They eyed each other for a long time, uncovering each other’s secrets, even when they knew perfectly so much of each other enough.
“We are 200 feet above the ground, and you shout like that in another higher octave, we’re both going to die before we reach the end of the zipline.”
“I fucking hate you Jongin, I’m not lying this time. Dammit, you retard!” she cursed, as he smugly shrugged.
He turned to her, his smile that reminded her of summer, of fun and excitement and everything in between as 2011 became the year that Jongin suddenly decided to show her one of his most devilish pastimes, that the new year was greeted with her excitedly agreeing. Right now, there was nothing but sheer regret all over her face, and even when her arms were circled around him, their bodies pressed together, including the ropes and other heavy metal that were defined to keep in them in place as the glided down the long rope, Soojung still felt unsafe, that she was going to die the moment they leap off the board.
“Have you tried this before?” Jongin whispered to her,
“Only roller coasters but never... ever this kind of shit,” she responded, chills obviously in the way she spat out her words. “I mean... if I die... can you tell Jessica I never really liked her cookies?”
Jongin didn’t repress his laughter as the instructor behind them signaled a countdown from three, two...
“If we die together, I want you to know I’ll never forgive you for this.”
He crashed his lips on to hers hastily before the final ‘one’ and they jumped off together, the line plummeting downwards that Krystal was screaming every part of her soul into the air, as Jongin remained calm, seeing her slowly smiling as they stretched farther in the journey, the hook above them making cling and clunk noises here and there. They were finally flying, suspended in air that was.
“Is that normal?”
“The what?”
“The noise!” she shouted, her hand automatically going up before Jongin grabbing it down nervously and glaring at her.
She beamed. “Why are you giving me that look?”
“You idiot, we’re running fast in case you’ve forgotten that! One touch and get burned by the rope,” Jongin explained, unhappily yet so strongly holding her hand with hesitation.
The wind rushed against their faces, the sound of a nearby waterfall also came across, and the smell of pine trees near the area eventually caused the couple to feel like this wasn’t as horrible as Krystal thought it would, as she felt brave eyeing nature with curiosity. He suddenly let go, distracted a little too, and distanced himself for once as they were too close, far too close, he decided. She kept looking down, a few ‘oh wow’s here and there which made her irresistable cute, no doubt.
“Eh! Don’t let go of me,” Soojung ordered, taking his shirt and as shallow as it might have appeared, staying in this position as though in an embrace. Jongin stiffens, and then smirks as the adventure came to a stop, the soles of their shoes finally stepping into something more solid and firm without letting go of each other.
“It’s safe now, Soojung,” he said as the crew took away the ropes.
“No... don’t let go of me yet,” Soojung uttered. “Not ever, okay?”
At that question, she looked up and he stared at her with great concern, their eyes meeting at the decent. This love, this romance game they entertain themselves with -who were they kidding here, reality? The truth slowly sunk, realizing now that Soojung was Krystal, maknae of the famous girl group f(x) and he was what? The nobody, the trainee who couldn’t even carry out the vocal lessons he applied for in cases of emergency. It was over a year now, and her insecurity still showed, still manifested itself before him, and only him (as Krystal was always brimming with confidence on stage).
He sighed. “I’ll never let you go. Not ever.”
“Promise?”
“It’s a promise,” Jongin whispered, putting a kiss on her lips again, the frail and feeble version of what he usually saw back home during training. This was Jung Soojung again, and there wasn’t a day he, Kim Jongin, wouldn’t worry of her heart.
But then it stopped, and the hands of the clock ran backwards to the time of hurt and pain and torture. Krystal found herself wanting what she couldn’t have anymore.
( iii )
“Jongin-ah... Jongin-ah...”
She was twenty-two now, a better adult than she was years beforehand, when back in the days she didn’t expect to be where she was now. F(x) was everything to the mainstream hallyu wave, known everywhere and every corner in the whole word; this year was theirs for the taking, after everything they had been through, finally this was the star they had aimed for in the beginning.
“Jongin-ah...”
“Soojung...” he shifted to her direction, amidst the moonlight shedding off a powerful gleam on her porcelain face. Her bed was smaller than his, but it never changed the fact that it felt colder here than elsewhere; be it because she always declined risky business with taking off each other’s clothes (she usually just stood there as he would be the one doing the effort, mindlessly observing him with her shrewd eyes). He could never understand what was it that ran through her mind and then after all that, as they slept together now, him unable to actually get some shut eye and even stirring more when she started sleep-‘talking’.
Somehow, he was taken aback, shortly then remembering that he was never what Soojung wanted, but only someone for comfort, for protection in case she took a knife and decided to cut, in case she jumped off a cliff for that kind of measure, in case she ran to Minho again and pleaded in front of him to take her back (that exception due to her drunk state, he recalled).
“Jongin-ah, don’t... don’t go...”
He had difficulty saying back the words, that he won’t, because after all it wasn’t him. Sehun knew he could never be Jongin, the one who always treasured gorgeous Soojung in his arms like the only pearl in the sea. Sehun knew this as the mere fact, as a universal known truth, like how much they could never be together; as true as the fact that he was the maknae of EXO while she was the younger sister of Girls’ Generation’s Jessica. It was beyond him that they were in this mess, that he was sleeping again with her.
She inhaled deep, eyes still closed with tiny tears excreted from the sides. “Jongin-ah... stay... please.”
All of this didn’t seem to matter, as Sehun pretended, like he always did, now caressing the side of her cheek like in dramas and taking hold of her, pulling Soojung close to him without another sound. She cried, again, and he started to feel the tears on his neck.
“Soojung... it’s going to be okay.”
“Promise... promise me... Jongin-ah...” She responded like it was a normal conversation before the breakup, the one played probably inside her head over and over again that Sehun’s heart died every time hearing from his girlfriend.
He stroked her hair, putting a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”
She was wounded, and hurt and slowly dying just like himself, so he wondered how long would he have to keep loving her this way, when in fact she didn’t even reciprocate exactly the amount of feelings he gave up. Yet Sehun, quiet and dear Sehun, knew because Krystal was just as tired, and not after how many tries would he be willing to give her up. Not now, and not ever, as he promised. He would be the person she was counting on in the first place, and he would be the person she would need in the end.
If only Soojung actually cared to notice that.
.