1;;Final
When Time Stops
“You just don’t believe, do you, JongIn?”
“What? In love?”
“Yeah,” SeHun whispers. “Love.”
“No, I don’t. It’s pointless and it just simply wastes your time. Why kiss when you can buy a ticket to France. Why hug when you can take a picture from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Why fall in love when you can eat pastries baked by the finest. Why?”
SeHun sighs. “Because it gives life a purpose.”
“Yeah, well, not mine.”
-
JongIn’s skin is cold and pale. It’s windy outside and the sky is dark. Not a cloud in sight.
“A white mocha, please.”
JongIn can already taste the bitter-sweet sensation on his tongue. Small drops of the white-brown liquid hanging off of his bottom lip.
He pays the cashier and takes his items, walking out onto the sidewalk.
-
His earphones are covered by his thick, black hair but are louder than an elephant’s cry. He walks down the streets with stares of the unknown and strange. He’s different, he knows.
-
He arrives back home, no annoying little brother SeHun to his ear with the words LuHan or Love.
He slowly sips his coffee, being sure not to burn his sensitive skin and stares out his window, peering down on the beautiful city of Seoul beneath him.
Lights.
Lights are everywhere and it’s not even afternoon yet. A quarter early.
The room is silent with the exception of the faint clicking sounds of the old clock.
JongIn’s bed is not made and there are coffee rings scattered across his desk, encircling the white sheet of paper in the center entitled, “Love: True or False.”
Such an ugly topic to JongIn. Love was 100% irrelevant to him.
-
It’s 3pm and there’s a melodic knock at the door. A bright contrast from the dark aura emitting from his apartment.
JongIn doesn’t usually doesn’t care too much for who knocks on the door. For it’s either LuHan looking for SeHun, SeHun looking for LuHan, or a random member of an Interest Group for gay marriage or something.
But, this time, it’s different.
JongIn almost jumps backwards from the sight.
In front of him stands a short, owl-eyed boy with thick, black eyebrows and a colorful bowtie.
“Good Afternoon. Do you happen to be a Mr. Kim JongIn?”
“Uhh, yeah. What do you want?”
The boy’s nose wrickles very subtly at the smell of cigarettes and bitter, black coffee.
“I work for the landlord and he has asked me to inform you that you have not paid rent for over two months.”
JongIn rolls his eyes. “Yeah? Well tell him he can kiss my !” He slams the door in front of the kid’s face and feels a little guilty. But he shrugs it off and walks back to his desk.
The boy knocks again and JongIn spins around on his heels.
“S-Sir?” he mumbles from behind the door. “S-Sir, please. If you d-don’t cooperate with m-me, I’ll lose my j-job and I-”
“Okay! Just shut up! How much do I need to pay you?”
KyungSoo, according to the shiny name tag on his shirt pocket, blinks quickly, his cheeks quickly turning into a rosy red.
“T-Two hundred dollars.”
JongIn scoffs as he pulls his worn out wallet from his back pocket, quickly taking out the money.
“Here.” And he throws it at his face. “Have a good day, KyunSo.”
“I-It’s KyungSoo, sir…”
-
The buzz in JongIn’s pocket nearly makes him fall down the steps. He forefully takes out his phone and reads his text message.
“jongin where are you its 2 in the morning you idiot
-received from dickhun at 1:56am”
JongIn laughs to himself.
“im outside on the steps. just go to sleep ill be there in a minute
-sent to dickhun at 1:58am”
He lays on the steps and closes his eyes. The sound of cicadas and cricket calls echoing in the night.
It’s a dark and starless night. The moon is a waning crescent and the wind is an unnoticable breeze.
JongIn breathes out, all of his stress pouring out also.
If you listened closely you could hear the door of the entrance open and close. The almost silent pitter patter of feet. The sound of clothes rusting and scratching against the concrete ground.
JongIn opens his eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
It was that boy KyungSoo again.
“I came here to thank you.”
He closes his eyes again. “For what?”
Everything is silent for a moment. Until JongIn’s screams fill the air of course.
“YAH! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”
KyungSoo punches JongIn in the stomach again. “FOR GIVING ME THIRTY DOLLARS, YOU ! I LOST MY JOB!”
JongIn slowly lets go of his stomach and frowns. “Oh,” he says. “Well, I deserved that, then.” He chuckles. “Sorry about that. That was all the money I had.”
KyungSoo rolls his eyes. “Gee, well thanks for telling me. Now I have no place to live or work. You deserve an award.”
JongIn was a little speechless at this side of KyungSoo. Sure, he’s only met him twice but he seemed so naïve and wimpy last time. Now he’s a stranger-attacking monster.
“Hey, if you want, you can live with me for a while.”
“Che! Live with you? You can’t even pay rent for yourself yet.”
“Hey, at least I’m offering you something, you no-good er.”
KyungSoo can’t help but laugh. He shakes JongIn’s hand and smiles. “Fine.”
-
It’s been over a month and SeHun has moved into LuHan’s house.
KyungSoo used to sleep in SeHun’s room but lately, he’s been creeping his way onto JongIn’s bed, snuggling behind him and wrapping his arms around JongIn’s lower stomach.
JongIn doesn’t mind though because sometimes he does the same.
-
It’s December 4th. It’s snowing.
All the big bussinesses are closed and people are out in coffee shops, drinking hot chocolate and eating warm pastries.
The atmosphere today is a little gloomy, though. JongIn’s coffee maker broke a few days earlier and he’s been rather cranky.
He wakes up to the hum of the 15,000 heaters in his room and KyungSoo’s soft hands cradling his jaw.
One-by-one, he gently peels off KyungSoo’s fingers and looks down at the snow-covered streets.
He places the tips of his warm fingers on the cold glass window and shudders at the sudden chill.
-
There’s a flash of light and JongIn turns around to see what it was.
“KyungSoo, what are you doing?”
He lays on his back, flipping a piece of paper in the air quickly. It’s a polaroid.
“Taking pictures of you.~”
JongIn sets down his pen and lays on the bed beside him. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Scrapbook maybe?”
He takes the camera.
“Hey, give it back, JongI-”
He flashes KyungSoo right in the eyes and chuckles.
The piece of paper shoots out of the camera and JongIn flips it.
“Wow, how photogenic are you, JongIn.”
JongIn laughs uncontrollably as he points at KyungSoo’s face.
“Ahaha- y-you- ahahaha! Look at your face, you derp!”
KyungSoo rolls over, purposely laying on top of JongIn.
“Shut up, you noob.”
“What happened to the nice KyungSoo?”
“He died when you gave me tHiRTY DOLLARS!”
-
JongIn looks at the clock. 11:42am.
Suddenly, KyungSoo peeks over JongIn’s shoulder and asks, “What’s that?”
“My essay.”
KyungSoo snorts. “It’s dated November 7th. You’ve been working on that for a month?”
“Uhh, yeah?” JongIn mocks his voice and elbows him off. “Go away, I have to work on it.”
“Whatever you say.”
-
“Love: True or False” is still the only thing on the paper. JongIn’s hands tremble and his head aches. It’s amazingly quiet but JongIn doesn’t bother to check behind him to see what KyungSoo’s doing.
He hasn’t written anything and he swears 2 hours have passed. So he looks at the clock to make sure.
11:43am.
Only one minute has passed.
-
Days. Weeks. Months. Years pass. KyungSoo and JongIn grow old with each other.
They aren’t exactly together yet they aren’t exactly friends.
JongIn wakes up every morning to KyungSoo’s smooth, soft hands wrapped around his stomach.
He doesn’t think much ot if… But he knows he likes it.
“Do you ever feel like time is playing jokes on you?” JongIn asks one day.
“Nah,” KyungSoo says. “Do you?”
JongIn shrugs. “I just get this crazy feeling that- that a minute… isn’t exactly a minute. That an hour, isn’t exactly an hour. I just feel like… like time stops for me. But I don’t realize it.”
KyungSoo frowns. “I’m sure you’re just going a little crazy, JongIn.”
JongIn stands up. “B-But I’m not! I swear! Every day, I ing swear it’s been three hours. But according to the clock in the living room, the clock in the kitchen, the clock in the café, on the wall, on my phone, everywhere, it’s says it’s only been a few minutes! Time stops!”
“JongIn,” KyungSoo mutters, “You’re losing it.”
-
A week passes by, but it felt like a day.
A month passes by, but it felt like an hour.
A year passes by. It felt like a second.
The brittle red-green leaves fall down from the nearly bare tree.
KyungSoo steps on a few, the quiet cruches beneath his feet echoing in the noise-ridden air.
Fresh, crisp autumn wind blows by, yet it leaves a bitter taste and an uneasy feeling.
“Are you still having those crazy thoughts?” KyungSoo manages to blurt out to cut through the silence.
“Yeah,” JongIn says as he grinds his teeth. “And they aren’t ing crazy, okay.”
JongIn fists his hands but he isn’t mad. He could never be mad at BabySoo. Never.
“I don’t know. It’s just odd. Time? Stopping? If so, why haven’t I noticed it yet? Why haven’t I remembered it?”
“Because… It stops.”
-
Three weeks pass. The time skipping becomes worse.
“One month,” JongIn whispers. “Is one hour.”
KyungSoo stares at him. “One minute…”
“Is a nano-second.”
KyungSoo lays down. “You’ve been talking about time for years now, JongIn.”
JongIn snaps his head back. “It’s just not affecting you, okay! It’s not affecting anyone! Just me! I can’t control it but I’m aging must faster than you ing think.”
“Well, you look the same.”
“But, I’m not the same.”
-
Spring of 2016.
“I can’t do it anymore, JongIn.” KyungSoo tightens his grip on the doorknob. “I’m leaving.”
JongIn is asleep on his bed. Sketchbook and ink-ridden pens scattered on KyungSoo’s side of the bed. Full of madness about the Space Time Continum and the ability to age.
KyungSoo looks back one more time.
And leaves.
-
Summer 2017.
The bed remains untouched for over a year. The notebooks and writing utensils remain in the same area.
Kai sits on a small wooden chair, holding his knees and looking out the window.
He sees fingerprints all across the glass panes. KyungSoo’s.
He hasn’t shaved in a while and his eyes are bugged out, bloodshot and red.
He hasn’t slept in 5 days. 15 years in his head.
JongIn slowly unlatches the window and looks down, wanting to jump and just die.
Just to end all the pain and suffering time has caused him. All the pain and suffering he took instead of caring for KyungSoo. But, he could never be mad at KyungSoo. Never.
-
Fall 2018.
It’s been two years since JongIn last saw KyungSoo. The bed is still untouched and the pages on the notebook begins to yellow.
JongIn turns pale and he’s 19,290,704 years old in his head.
Coffee doesn’t help anymore. Antu-depressants don’t help anymore. Nothing helps anymore.
He’s dead inside.
-
Winter 2019.
It’s cold outside but JongIn leaves the window open. He wishes like always, he could just step out of his window and soar down to the hard cement ground, waiting for him at the bottom.
To feel his head bash open and bleed. Because it meant his time-obsessed mind would die, also.
-
Spring 2020.
JongIn lays on the ground.
“One second,” he whispers. “Is how long I showed my love for you.”
“One minute. Is how long I held you.”
“One hour. Is how long I knew you.”
“One hour. Is how long I regret losing you.”
The room is silent.
With the exception of the old, brown clock, ticking away.
-
JongIn is 88,000,576,890,126 years old.
He threw the clock out of the window a couple minutes earlier.
The annoying tick tock tick tock finally ceased.
And he feels younger.
His skin isn’t as wrinkly and his breathing is easier.
He closes his eyes as a 52 year old man and opens them as a 19 year old.
“JongIn?” someone calls. “JongIn, come back to bed.”
JongIn gasps.
He’s in his bathroom. Back to normal again.
-
JongIn laid in bed beside KyungSoo, and wrapped his arms tightly around his waist.
“Jesus, JongIn. What’re you trying to do, kill me?” KyungSoo giggles.
“What day is today, KyungSoo?” His voice is flat. Monochromatic in tone if tone was a color.
“Umm, Tuesday? The 4th of December.”
JongIn smiles.
It’s snowing outside.
Cars are on the road but they don’t move. People are on the sidewalks but the don’t move. Time stopped.
11:42am.
It’s been 11:42am for an hour.
-
A/N: This fic… was… very confusing…
Sorry! ;__; It’s also not as angsty as my other fics nor is it as romantic omg.
I’m sorry! m( _ _ )m My next fic will be very angsty, I promise! XD
I apologize soooo much if you were expecting smth better... This was... Not my best work? OTL
Until then…~ /hugs you all
Check out my other Angsty One-Shots!
***The Bucket List ~ **Under the Willow Tree ~ *Say Hello ~ Soft Winds
New Oneshot! [Better than this crazy one... lol]
*Untouchable
*Untouchable
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