Prompt by cassiejoyz:

Everytime Taemin helps someone live longer, it shortens his lifespan

Warning: slightangst

If asked, what are you? I honestly couldn't answer.

Human? --Not really.

An angel? --Seriously? I had comitted too many sins.

I didn't know what I was; let's see, a weirdo who had a special talent? Could it even be called talent?

It all started when I experienced the brink of death myself. I was thirteen when I was pushed off the cliff by my evil step brother. In my comatose state, I kept having this weird dream about an old lady who taught me about my -even weirder- talent. Which I found rather ridiculous at first. She said that I could make people live longer but in exchange of that, my life would be shortened.

Hilarious, right? But that was what actually happened. I could see death coming and I could play with it.

I still remembered the time I helped a little boy from an accident, the time ticked very slowly as if I could chose whether to save him or not. The memory of the first time still got me shivering in fear sometimes. I really hated how my body stiffened upon the whirl of heat trailing from my feet up to my head. I could feel my lifespan reducing and it scared me.

Would you not be afraid if you were me?

I can see my own death whenever I tried to save someone. You had no idea how terrifying it was. I could feel my age being taken bit by bit when I tried to trick death. That was probably one of the reason why I had stopped helping people.

Did I feel bad for putting a blindfold upon someone's suffering, but nothing compared to my fear of my own death. I had not much time left and I still had things that I'd like to do.

I didn't want to die yet, at least not in my twenties.

If only I didn't meet him.
Choi Minho.

I threw my face away from him, trying so hard to ignore the calling.

"Taemin-ah..."

Did I cry? Yes.

That stupid Choi Minho did it again. He cut himself, this time on the neck. Maybe it was stupid of me yelling at him that if he wanted to die, he should just cut the main artery on his neck, not on his wrist. And that stupid guy really listened to what I was saying. Something felt not right, something churning in my stomach at dawn when I found him in the bathroom, blood bursting from his neck.

Choi Minho was a broken guy. His traumatic self was his own nightmare.

He had tried so many ways to end his life.

And I had been using my talent to bring him back.

"Why did you do this?"

"I'm tired of all this," he whispered.

"You hate me?"

"Never."

"Then, why?" I sobbed into my hands while he said no more, fast asleep. It was always like that.

He was all that I had, the one who gladly took me in when my family abandoned me in the hospital, he cared for me even if he himself needed someone to take care of him and his problematic life. We were in the same room back then. Heard the rumour that he tried to kill himself and was saved by the neighbour. We had laughed about how pitiful our lives were and he offered me to stay with him since I had nowhere to go. He asked me if I could watch over him and prevent him from doing something stupid, and I said yes, I made a promise on top of that.

Minho somehow became the reason why I wanted to stop saving people. I swore to use my lifespan to save him whenever he tried to kill himself. I devoted myself for him.

Why, you asked? --I don't know.

It might be because I didn't want to be left behind. Not by him.

Might as well because I loved him. Nobody never showed me how precious I could be, that I wasn't a piece of trash. Minho taught me how to feel things, I went through roller coaster ride of emotions with him. Nine years with him and I had experienced almost every kind of feelings, you could mention one by one and I could be saying, I know how it feels.

Although it was quite ambiguous to say, but I knew what I feel for him and it wasn't just a simple and childish crush. The fact that I would give my life for him was the proof of my sincerity, no?

"If you keep doing this, you'll be the death of me," I said to the sleeping form on the bed, seemed like he was still on drugs and that he often drifted to sleep. I made myself a space beside him, hugging him tight after giving a little kiss over the bandage on his neck.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

I peeked up, boy, he was awake.

"You're awake?"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost ten days."

He sighed as he wrapped himself around my smaller body, his warmth soon soothing me. The weak grip was enough for me. At least he was still alive and for that, I was thankful. The wound he made was healing quickly, even the doctor wondered how he could escape from death. Could I only chuckle, it was me who played with his destiny again.

There was a lazy kiss, I could feel it on my crown, thus I looked up. He was tearing up, I knew he would regret this once again. It was always like that, a circle; where he would regret his wrongdoing, tried to be normal, acted like there was nothing to worry about, then the night terror and nightmare came haunting him again, he would stress himself, had enough and tried to harm himself, and back to square one all over again. We tried to go to the doctor, he took meds for his illness, yet nothing changed much. He gave up easily.

I gave a small peck on his lips while he closed his eyes and caved in. We kissed a little longer, a little deeper than a friend should. But we had been doing this for quite some times, and nobody was questioning why we should stop.

"Don't do this ever again," I begged into his mouth.

"I'm sorry," said he. I knew he was, but in the other side, I knew he would hardly change.

"I think I'm almost at my limit."

True, my life was not that much left since I met him. I despised myself to be found by him, however, if asked what kind of life I would have, I probably replied: I want to be here, by Minho's side.

"You'll leave me?"

I shook my head, of course not, never I would leave him in the darkness. If I had greater power than this, I would bring him to a more beautiful life, to a better side, so that he wouldn't have to walk this thorny path. Unfortunately, I had none. I only had this weird prophecy.

It was lucky of him to have met me. It might be, right? Because, "I will always save you until my death comes."

For Minho, I would mess up with death, would do anything to let him lived longer. I wasn't ready to live without him. It was selfish of me, I realised that, but I loved him.

As he kissed me, I somewhat knew that it wouldn't hurt so bad if I had to die because of him. Am I right?

I've been learning to write angst. I want to make people cry somehow lol it's quite fascinating to be able to create a story that could bring people to tears, or maybe just a little pang in the heart.

Tell me what I'm lacking, okay?

And thank you for the prompts!^^

Love,

aqcelnicorus :D