Morning came all too quickly the next day, an alert chiming in Kibum’s ear like an inescapable bell. Groggily, he looked around and tried to figure out what was waking him up on a Sunday morning. His fingers brushed the activator and he gasped as he heard Jinki’s voice flow through. I just wanted to let you know I was on my way to the hover hub. I’ll see you when I get there.

                “Crap!” he flailed as he sat up in bed, looking at the time. 11:32. A full hour and a half past their usual meeting time. Another message was lined up too. He activated it and cringed.

                I hope this doesn’t wake you up. Or maybe you’re on your way. But I’m here at the hover hub. Maybe you can send me a location pin and I can come to you if you prefer. No pressure though. Just let me know!

                A thin wail escaped Kibum’s mouth and he looked down at his clothes. He wasn’t even remotely ready. It wasn’t like he had to clean up much, just put up the bed really, but it would take more time than he wanted to make Jinki wait. The fact he woke up later than expected was already making him anxious and if he just had to sit in the hover tube, he knew he’d only be panicking anyway so…

                He pulled up Jinki’s call screen and tapped his indicator, pacing in the small confines of the room as he waited for the line to connect. “Hello?”

                “Jinki! I’m sorry! I overslept and-” he started to blurt, the words rushing out of him haphazardly.

                “It’s okay.”

                “-I’m getting ready and-“

                “Kibum.”

                “-I’ll be there as soon-“

                “Kibum!”

                The last was sharp enough to break through the rush of words he couldn’t seem to stop, for which Kibum was embarrassed and grateful at the same time. “Yeah?” he asked after a brief pause that allowed him to take a small breath.

                “Take your time. There’s no rush,” Jinki promised sincerely, voice tender and careful. “If you’re okay with it, you can just send me a location pin and I’ll come to you.”

                Kibum nodded in automatic response until he realized Jinki couldn’t see him. Then he was annoyed with himself and he smacked his face with both hands, stifling a groan. Why in the solar system was he being so weird about this?! “Okay,” he stated in a firm tone, literally manhandling his voice to function like he wanted it to. He exhaled again and added, “It should take you about thirty minutes to get here.” For a moment, he hesitated, not sure if he wanted to say the next part. He could still turn back… no! “Quit being a coward,” he muttered under his breath.

                “Huh?” Jinki chirped in confusion.

                “Nothing!” Kibum blurted back, shaking his head at himself as he pulled his defenses back into place. “Just let Sunny know you’re… here to see me. I’ll give her permission to let you in.”

                “Sounds good. I’ll see you soon.”

                Kibum wasn’t sure if Jinki ended the call for brevity’s sake or his own, but he was grateful instead of offended. It meant he didn’t have to. He sent his address to Jinki as promised and then sat back down on the edge of his bed extending from the wall before casting a look around the room. This was it. He was going to let the first person in over six years into this space with him.

                Technically, it had been empty for five years and he’d only recently started living in it for his first year of university, but still… At first glance, it was nothing special. Mostly empty walls and barren floors with minimal furniture and decorations. You could barely call it lived in, but when Kibum looked longer… the room started to take on a different life, a different image from another time.

                With his eyes closed or not, if he thought about the history of this space, much of his early memories flowed back to him. Many of the conflicting connections he shared inhabited this place like ghosts in a haunted apartment. Physically, it was practically empty. And yet it was also full to the brim with what had once been and what had already come to pass. Kibum’s first steps, his first words, his very early childhood of laughter and life and hugs and never enough space but it didn’t matter because they were happy. In those days, he’d slept under the bed when his father was home from work and in the bed with his mother when he was away.

                But then things started to change and his memories shifted with them. This place of so much sadness and so much pain, etched into every inch of the walls and the floors. His later childhood of overhearing arguments, unable to escape them as he tucked himself under the bed and tried to plug his ears. Sharp anger and burning sadness from his mother’s stifled tears and his father’s absence. His brow furrowed as the moment his father left came to mind, a faceless shade with hunched shoulders and coiled tension that disappeared out the door without a look back.

                A shiver took him when he realized he was sitting where his mother had sat that day, utterly broken in that moment. Kibum raised his hands to rub along his arms, trying to chase away the sudden chill that accompanied it. She’d been sick. He knew that much. It was the crux of everything, but he couldn’t remember why. Almost violently, his mind shied away from it as a tidal wave of hurt threatened to wash over him. He closed his eyes and hunched in on himself, trying to focus on something, anything else.

                Ghosts of memories haunted this place, crowding so close together sometimes it was a wonder Kibum could exist in the same space at all. For years he hadn’t had to think about it at all and for months, he’d told himself he should leave to save electricity, to cut costs, to do anything to get out of the apartment for every other reason beyond the real one. He gripped his arms harder, fingernails digging into the covered skin harshly, and it hurt but the pain was welcome. It brought him back to the moment. Kibum took a shaky breath and rammed his fists into his thighs. More pain and more clarity. The swell of emotion that caught him pulled back just enough and he looked at the time again, desperately trying to direct his attention elsewhere. Surprise hit when it showed 11:53.

                Kibum yelped and hopped up, yanking his shirt off and stumbling for the room panel to message Sunny and let her know that L- Jinki would be coming to see him shortly. If he gave her his last name, she’d just call him Mr. Lee and he knew how annoying that was. That task finished, he frantically splashed water on his face and changed into something… clean at the very least. A fresh t-shirt and soft pants, something comfortable and unrestricting. It felt fine but he thought it might be too informal and he debated on changing but then he heard his door chime and he yelped at the vaguely familiar but unexpected sound.

                Sunny’s voice floated over the com into his room. “Mr. Kim. Jinki is outside your door. Should I let him in?”

                Slowly, Kibum turned his head towards the door, staring at the all too flimsy barrier separating him and Jinki. He could still back out now. Could just sit in this sterile, crowded, bare purgatory of a place and be as he had been. Except… he couldn’t. Finally reaching his hand out, even just a little bit, had stirred up everything he’d kept stuffed inside, locked behind avoidance and lies he told himself and the promise of better later if only he could get out of here and yet the fear of later never coming weighed down on him. Crushing like gravity that never got any lighter if he stopped to think about it at all. Choking in its oppressiveness.

                Everything that he didn’t want and everything he needed to say crashed around inside him like a maelstrom, twisting his guts into painful knots and making it hard to breathe… to think. His shoulders drooped, suddenly letting go of the tension bunching them tight. A swallow of sticky saliva made its way down his throat and he sighed as a single word slipped past his trembling lips.

                “Yes.”

                The door whispered open, sliding back and spilling light from the hallway into the room, silhouetting the man in front of it, holding a carry case of something in his arms. A t-shirt and loose pants covered his muscular frame and none of it mattered save for the genuine smile that curled his mouth into a welcome expression of pink lips and partially revealed white teeth. Rising cheeks pressed at his eyes and made them crinkle at the edges, becoming mere slits that hid most of the warmth pouring out of the shadowed brown orbs.

                His smile slipped when he saw Kibum there. Something invisible but all too tangible about the way he was standing or the unspoken words howling around in his head. “Kibum?” he asked, voice feather soft as he took a small step inside, one hand rising to reach for him.

                “Hi,” Kibum choked out, blinking quickly as he turned and looked away, motioning with his hand for Jinki to come in. Jinki’s presence had banished the oppressiveness but now he had absolutely no idea where to start… what to say… How could he? He’d never tried to put the thoughts into words before and they all careened in his head in messy strands and bucking sounds he wasn’t sure he knew how to tame.

                “Are you okay?” He heard the sound of shoes slipping off, the habit engrained and familiar enough to follow almost unconsciously.

                Yes. No. “I don’t know,” he admitted with an uncertain laugh, knowing both were correct and not.

                Quiet steps padded close. Jinki touched the back of Kibum’s shoulder, the barest of pressure with his fingertips. It felt like lightning, terrifying and grounding at the same time. Kibum gasped and the hand disappeared immediately with a murmured, “Sorry.”

                Pain again, this time his fingernails digging into his palms, gave him something else to focus on. He shook his head and forced a paper-thin laugh. “I’m sorry. Come in,” he urged, prying one hand open to gesture at the space where the table and chairs should be. His fingers curled closed just as fast when he noticed the crescent imprints in his palm. Awkwardly, he moved to summon the table and chairs, his body feeling more like a marionette than his own. He risked a glance at Jinki and for once, the other man didn’t seem to know entirely what to say or do himself. That was as comforting as it was frustrating. Kibum glanced at the carry case in his hands though and it seemed to prompt a response.

                “Ah! I brought breakfast,” he forced out, a weak smile curling his lips. “Mom insisted I-” he started to say before stopping himself with a clack of his teeth and pursing his lips hard.

                Kibum tensed at the reminder. Of what he didn’t have. Of who he didn’t have. And he looked at the still frame beside the door.

                Jinki set the carry case on the table, an uncertain frown on his face, and then followed Kibum’s gaze. He stood up and shuffled over a single step. Fingertips rested on the wall just beneath the image and he looked at it before shifting his gaze back to Kibum. “Is this your mother?” Kibum nodded, a barely perceptible movement. Jinki’s smile was gentle as he viewed the image again. “You look like her.”

                The words, as well meaning and beautiful as they were, stabbed Kibum, splitting him open. He did look like her. Same nose. Same eyes. Sharper cheekbones, but similar facial structure. Different hair color but the same wavy style when it got long enough. He only looked like his mother. The similarity ended there, though. She had been kindness and light incarnate. Her laugh like a symphony dancing in Kibum’s ears and her smile his whole world, even when she had nothing left to give. She had been hope and love and wishes for happiness despite everything.

                But he… Kibum was not like her. All half-truths and secrets and unspoken words. Walls to hide behind lined his existence and a different mask for every person hung on pegs in his mind. Because you couldn’t trust people. Even when they promised. Even if they loved you.

                “Kibum?” He flinched and looked up from where his gaze had dropped. Jinki was standing directly in front of him, searching his face as if he could find the source of his pain if he looked long enough.

                “Sorry!” he apologized roughly, shaking his head in an attempt to step away from the direction his thoughts wanted to move in. He swallowed hard and waved at the front door. “How was the trip here? Not too many people I hope?” he wondered, looking over and immediately glancing away when he saw that Jinki could tell he was avoiding something, the faint crease of his brow and worried eyes a dead giveaway.

                “It was fine,” he finally answered though, playing along for the time being. “I didn’t realize you lived so far from the school. No wonder you never wanted me to walk you home.” He laughed it off like it was a joke but there was sadness there too.

                “Yeah,” Kibum agreed, the same bitter undertone accompanying the word. Looking around, he noticed the carry case again and nodded towards it. “You said your mother sent it?”

                “Mm,” Jinki nodded, reluctantly turning to focus on the case himself. He moved over and opened it so Kibum could see, pulling out the tray of still steaming food and setting it back on the table while he put the outer case underneath. “She wanted to make sure you had food so you could study hard,” he explained, an honest laugh and smile escaping him finally.

                Kibum shared the expression, easily able to imagine Jinki’s mother saying exactly that. “It looks good,” he promised, the weight on his chest still pressing down heavily but his stomach was undeterred.

                “I didn’t know what you wanted so just brought a bit of most of the things you’ve had for breakfast at my place,” he explained with a helpless shrug. “If you’re hungry… please,” he offered, gesturing at the table and the chair next to it.

                “You know me so well,” Kibum chuckled, the realization both frightening and wonderful at the same time. He sat down and surveyed the veritable banquet before him. Fresh mixed fruit, a pancake, some congee, a rolled egg dish, and lots of little sides that he could add to them or eat separately. “I guess you already ate earlier,” he murmured, glancing up to see Jinki watching him.

                “Yeah,” he chuckled with a smile. “But you go ahead,” he urged again, gesturing towards the food once more.

                Kibum nodded and started to pick at the selection before him. Each bite was delicious but it was tainted by the shadow of why he had asked Jinki here in the first place. Eating gave him a chance to calm down enough to try and organize his thoughts, but it did nothing to lessen the carefully contained maelstrom locked inside.

                “Your apartment reminds me of a first-year dorm,” Jinki commented as he gestured to the interior, eyes traveling over the doorway to the washroom.

                “I thought you didn’t stay in the dorms,” Kibum commented around a mouthful of food.

                “I didn’t but Henry did. I used to crash his room quite often,” he grinned with that charming smile of his.

                “I wanted to,” Kibum admitted quietly, looking down at his food before he picked another piece and chewed on it with slow care.

                “Why didn’t you?” Jinki wondered after a moment when silence ensued.

                “Didn’t have a choice.” His words were bitter and dark. “But the apartment’s mine.”

                “You bought it?” the second year wondered curiously, brows rising to match his tone.

                Kibum scoffed. “My father did.” Biting anger rose and threatened to make him choke. “It’s the only decent thing he left me.”

                “Ah.” It was clear Jinki didn’t know how to respond to that.

                He wasn’t finished with the food on the tray but it was starting to sit heavy in his belly and the taste was more like sand in his mouth now anyway. “I’m done,” he sighed, pushing it away and pulling his hands back to lightly clasp them in front of him. “Thank you for the food,” he murmured without looking up.

                “Of course,” Jinki answered immediately, no hesitation present at all.

                “And… thank you for agreeing to come here today,” he added in an even quieter whisper. It was a struggle trying to figure out how to make the words come. Kibum tensed slightly when he saw one of Jinki’s hands appear to gently rest on top of his. When he looked up, he could see the other man’s reassuring smile and Kibum faltered all over again. “I…” he whispered, continuing to look at the one person he wanted so desperately to trust, to prove to himself that maybe it was okay. But doubt and fear clung to him like a sickness, twisting his insides and keeping the words locked behind his teeth.

                Jinki nodded once, a mute supportive gesture, but still no words passed between them. “Was there something you wanted to tell me?” he eventually asked, gently prompting as he was so good at.

                Everything. And nothing. The maelstrom rose up again, words and fragments savagely crashing against each other, vying to be the first sounds to break free. Kibum grimaced, a pained expression. A nod conveyed his intent but still… where to start?

                Like a lifeline, Jinki risked a more direct question. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at the picture on the wall. “Want to tell me about your mother?”

                Kibum’s laugh was a mere breath of sound but the smile that pulled at his mouth, reluctantly curling the edges, was real. “She was amazing,” he admitted, lifting his face to stare at her photo on the wall. “Patient, caring, full of light and love. She was everything I wanted. All I needed,” he explained, easily falling into a well-worn train of thought. “Dad worked outside the dome. Sometimes on planet and sometimes off so it was mostly just me and mom. She taught me how to talk, how to walk, everything.” He looked down with a laugh that turned bitter. “She was my world far more than my father ever was.”

                Jinki’s hand tightened on Kibum’s. “She does sound lovely.”

                “She was,” Kibum agreed with a hard swallow. “Even when everything changed, she still tried to smile, to put on a brave face,” he explained, his voice turning to a croak on the last word. He blinked and started when he saw a drop of water land on top of Jinki’s hand. Sniffing once, he touched his cheek with his fingers and saw they came back wet.

                “Kibum,” Jinki whispered, standing up so that he could move closer and kneel in front of the other man, clasping one slender hand in both of his. “What happened?” he asked, eyes searching Kibum’s face with care and concern. “What happened to your mother?” he asked again when silence stretched between them.

                There was no doubt in his mind that Kibum’s mom was dead. No question of that. Just ‘what happened?’ and a solid thread to grab so Kibum could finally free the words and break the dam holding them back. “She got sick. When I was four.” He winced as the sharp memory of her sitting on the bed after receiving the news came back to him. He hadn’t understood it then. He was too young to recognize the pained betrayal and hurt she must have felt, but he knew she was sad because she hadn’t smiled. She had cried then. And he couldn’t help her.

                Kibum exhaled as more tears spilled over with each blink, words dripping from his tongue like a slow leaking faucet. “It was my father’s fault. He made her sick,” he explained, brow furrowing as if he was searching for the reason. It made him nauseous though and he had to swallow hard, still not ready to free that truth. “They argued all the time he was home. We weren’t happy when he was here anymore,” he explained in a flat tone, eyes staring at nothing as flashes of clearer memories resurfaced. “We weren’t happy when he was gone either though,” he added, more tears pooling in his eyes and blurring his vision as the weight on his chest grew and pressed suffocatingly upon him. He looked at Jinki and his voice trembled when it came out again. “I knew she was sick and not getting better. She still smiled but it was never the same as before. Forced. Tired. Hiding pain,” he went on, sniffing and swallowing.

                Jinki’s hands were warm as he wiped Kibum’s tears. Then he grabbed Kibum’s hand again and cradled it close, mutely providing comfort and reassurance. ‘I’m here. I’ve got you.’

                “The last time I saw my father was when I was eight. He left and never came back. And things only got worse from there.” Picking through the graveyard of his memories, his throat closed as a name finally surfaced, bubbling up from beneath years of avoidance. He saw it clearly on the data screen his mother was reading. His father had just walked out and she was sitting on the bed again, her back to the door. Everything about her posture signaled defeat and Kibum’s heart broke anew. “Mors hominus feminae. Woman’s Demise,” he croaked, the name sour on his tongue as he looked down.

                Jinki inhaled quietly. “Kibum…”

                “I didn’t know what it meant then, but we tried,” he exhaled, reaching out to grab the front of Jinki’s shirt in his free hand, holding firm. “Me and mom. We tried everything to save her.”

                “There is a cure,” Jinki whispered, his voice soft but the words as good as poison.

                Dark derision curled Kibum’s lips into something hard and ugly, even as liquid pooled in his eyes once more. “If you have money,” he smiled and laughed, the expressions at odds with the crying sounds that emerged instead. “We didn’t. She was a single mother abandoned by the one person who was supposed to protect her and I was a child,” he snarled, pain twisting his words into garbled sounds. Despite his harsh words, he pulled at Jinki’s hand and shirt, desperate for something.

                “No one would help us,” he admitted through clenched teeth and closed eyes as the original wave of helplessness and fear crashed down on him. “My fa-“ He could barely get the word out. “My father did this to her. He lied!” The word emerged as a growl and he twisted the shirt in his hand. “And because he lied,” he gasped, his throat trying to close up on the memory, a fresh horror dug from its grave. “And abandoned us. His family!” He gripped Jinki’s hand hard, fingers crooked into bony claws. “And ran away to some place off world where I couldn’t follow…” Speaking was so hard, he had to choke the words out.

                Kibum took a gasping breath and leaned forward like he was trying to curl in on himself. He felt like he was suffocating. “They let her die… He let her die!” he keened as he scrunched his eyes tight, salty droplets raining down in the space between them, spattering on skin and fabric alike. “And I couldn’t do anything.” It was a plaintive sob pried from out of his rigid throat. “No matter what I did, what I learned, what I tried… it was never enough and she still died!” The words rushed out in a croak, a sob bursting out as the last word broke free. “She left me too and it was my fault because I couldn’t do anything!”

                No longer supported by the stiff rage against his father, the injustice of his mother’s death, Kibum’s body turned to jelly and he sagged forward. Strong arms caught him, holding him close as Jinki cradled him in his embrace. One gentle hand braced the back of his neck and the other ran soothing up and down his back as he rocked him in place. “I’ve got you. I’m here,” he murmured, resting his cheek against the top of Kibum’s head.

                Suddenly that grief stricken twelve-year-old boy once more, Kibum curled up against Jinki’s body and wrapped his arms around him tight, holding on like he was the only thing keeping him from floating away. Inconsolable, he sobbed between gritted teeth, body shaking with wracking bursts of intermittent breaths and coughs.

                He cried until there were no more tears.

                Until he felt empty and hollow and bereft of anything else.

                Until he felt sick, his stomach so twisted and abused.

                He had no idea how long he cried for. Even less awareness of how long strong arms cradled him close, just rocking back and forth as he sniffled and slowly regained control of his breathing and his thoughts.

                Eventually, he became aware enough to feel embarrassment creeping in. Acting like a child weeping and clinging to Jinki. He swallowed and took a breath. “Umm…” he hesitated, finally loosening his hold.

                Jinki paused and did the same, though he didn’t let go entirely. “How are you feeling?” he asked, letting his hand droop to rub small circles at the top of Kibum’s back.

                “Like a child,” he answered with a weak snort, his head carefully tucked against Jinki’s chest so he wouldn’t see.

                “That’s not what I asked,” he laughed back, a soft, amused sound tinged with relief.

                Kibum wrinkled his nose but nodded once. “Tired. Empty.” Embarrassed. But he didn’t say that out loud at least.

                “Better?”

                “A little,” he conceded with another tiny nod.

                “Good.” Only then did Jinki relinquish his hold and push Kibum back to get a clear look at his face. He wanted to keep hiding but Jinki was having none of it. “Kibum. Look at me.” It wasn’t a forceful command but it worked all the same. Kibum lifted his head up, following the movement of his eyes. “There you are,” he smiled, laughing once as he used his thumbs to wipe at the tear tracks on the other man’s face.

                Kibum flinched away with a complaining groan before he wiped at his face himself and leaned back, forcing another swallow around the lump in his throat. He sniffed and mumbled, “You must think I’m-”

                “No,” Jinki stated sharply, interrupting Kibum with a finger in front of his face. He jerked in surprise and just looked at the other man then, not expecting the rebuttal. “Whatever you think I think right now is probably wrong,” he promised in a gentler tone of voice. He moved his hand up to place it on top of Kibum’s head in a brotherly fashion and smiled. “Right now, I’m just glad you decided to talk to me.”

                He didn’t entirely believe it, but Kibum didn’t have the strength to argue. He snorted once and rolled his eyes, the ghost of his usual self shining through. “Sure,” he agreed for the sake of saying something before wiping at his cheeks again and looking away.

                Jinki didn’t press the matter and moved his hand back so he could rise to his feet after awkwardly freeing his legs from under and around Kibum. By the way he moved, he was stiff and maybe suffering from some degree of pins and needles. “Can you stand?” he asked, offering his hands while leaning over slightly.

                Speaking of pins and needles… Kibum accepted and nearly fell again when his legs and feet announced they did not appreciate being folded up for so long. “Ow…” he whined with a pained and embarrassed snort, stumbling to the table with Jinki’s help.

                “Careful,” Jinki urged, staying close until Kibum was seated. Only then did he move his hands away.

                “I’m okay,” Kibum murmured, looking down at the clasped hands in his lap. But even as he said the words, he had to wonder if they were true. He felt alright but it was rather like the calm after the storm and it didn’t feel real to him just yet.

                Jinki sighed quietly and then placed his hand on Kibum’s nearest shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Thank you.”

                Pulled from his thoughts, Kibum looked up in confusion and blurted, “For what?” Shouldn’t he be the one thanking Jinki instead?

                “For trusting me,” the other man answered, the tone sincere and honest. So much so it almost hurt.

                Kibum dropped his gaze again and shifted his hand to scratch at his wrist, slightly uncomfortable. “You…” he started and stopped, chewing on his bottom lip again. Jinki squeezed his shoulder reassuringly and Kibum looked back up to meet the encouraging nod. “You don’t think I’m… stupid, do you?” Jinki sighed softly and he had to add, “For what I said.”

                “No, Kibum. I don’t.” Jinki simply affirmed what he’d told the first year in the beginning. “I’m just glad you decided to talk to me. Really.”

                Kibum shifted his gaze to watch Jinki’s thumb run little soothing on his shoulder. “It feels… strange. To have finally said it. Especially here,” he added, mouth twisting in thought as he frowned while a general sense of numbness began to suffuse him.

                Jinki’s thumb stilled and he took a quiet breath. “Why?”

                Sort of floating and no longer feeling much of anything that had assailed him earlier, Kibum looked up and around. “Because this is the only thing my father left us. The last place I saw him. The last place I saw my mother.” He stopped talking to point at the bed he hadn’t put up like he’d intended. “Right over there.” When he looked back at Jinki, he blinked at the stunned expression on his face.

 

(a/n: Can't believe this chapter and the one before were supposed to be a single chapter when I originally wrote them out. lol But finally! I'm satisfied enough with the changes to post this one and I'll be looking at giving the next chapter similar treatment. I got way too into the telling aspect of things. Ugh... We will be switching perspectives though so yay? lol Thank you for being patient and if you have any thoughts or questions you'd like to share, I'd love to hear them, but otherwise, happy reading and I hope you have a great day!)