spin the world

iamforgotten

He calls himself Yesung – and he is driving Kim Kibum absolutely insane.




Kibum is the perfect guy. He is smart and witty and funny. He’s God-fearing and family oriented. He’s responsible and polite. And Kibum is kind and naturally helpful. So it doesn’t really take a genius to realize the cause of everything that’s happening in his life right now – his medical-school-graduating life, that is.

His world crumbles that one day when the older man stumbles into his apartment in the middle of the night, drunken and positively loud. Kibum has never seen him before; he wasn’t, in the least way, familiar. But the soon-to-be doctor just can’t find it in himself to abandon the other in the freezing hallway and sleep in peace. Besides, his mom raised him better than that.

So Kibum hurls the now asleep man into his room, sets him onto the single bed and fusses over him like a worried wife – or husband, because really, Kibum is a guy, too. He passes out about an hour later, slumped into one of his bigger medical books, worry and concern evident in his face. It isn’t every day that he gets a little more color in his very driven life.

He wakes up the next morning only to realize that he had already missed his first class. Kibum curses under his breath, oblivious to the stare from the seemingly still conked out form on his bed. He stands from his swivel chair and makes his way towards the bathroom, determined to attend all his other classes. He walks back into the room after a while, an insanely revealing white towel wrapped around his waist. He bends over the drawers in search of clean boxers when he freezes – eyes wide with realization.

A man is sitting on his bed – eyes just as wide as his – and staring at his semi-.

A long, fat silence ensues.

“I – uh –“ the man stutters, obviously out of words.

Kibum is fished out of his trance, snatches a pair of boxers from the drawers, and runs back to the bathroom – much like a madman. He puts on whatever his hands reached – boxers, a pair of pants from yesterday, and a white tee from somewhere he couldn’t remember. He hastens back out to find the stranger still sitting on his bed, eyes still very much like saucers.

Kibum clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something –which he forgets when he notices the smile playing on the other’s lips.

“I’m sorry for intruding.” The stranger stands from the bed after a while. He walks towards the door and puts his hand on the knob. He turns back to the hospitable doctor. “I guess I was too drunk last night. Nothing happened, right? I didn’t take advantage of you or something, except, of course, taking your time and bed for the night.”

Kibum stares. “No. It’s alright. But are you fine? No hangover?”

The stranger shakes his head. He turns the knob and opens the door. But just as he steps out of the apartment he thanks Kibum for his hospitality, and bows his head in apology. “My name is Yesung, by the way.”

And he is gone.



♥



He takes a step at a time, each one slow, almost thoughtful. And he doesn’t make it to class at all.




Kibum pushes the cart down the aisle, his head turning left and right, and up and down. He is in search of things and ingredients that he’s making up as he goes. He seems to be craving for a certain taste, and that’s what he’s trying to figure out. He walks passed the rows of fresh produce – bunches of greens, mostly – when he realizes that he wants some mushrooms.

Kibum leaves the cart for a while, turning back to the shelf that contained the button mushrooms. But he is cut short. He bumps into another shopper, and they both fall onto the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Kibum says, over and over like a mantra, especially when the other person doesn’t say anything. He heaves himself onto his feet and dusts his pants before looking up into familiar eyes.

“It’s okay,” the person responds. “Are you – you aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking at where I was going.”

The person brushes his apologies off. “It isn’t anyone’s fault”, he says. “Are you here for groceries?”

Kibum nods, looking back at his cart. He brings his right hand up to his nape, rubbing it – a habit he has had since young, whenever he’s embarrassed. “You, too?”

A nod. “I’m having a feast tonight –” he says which puts a frown on the other’s lips, with whom, he seems to ask. “– by myself. You’re welcome to join me if you like.”

Kibum stares at him for a while.

“I am also having a hard time coming up with what to cook, so if you’d join me, you can make a request, too.”

When Kibum finally has his bearings back together, he nods. He looks around but turns back to his new companion, “what about steaks?”

Yesung laughs at the others suggestion – hearty and loud. “Sounds just fine. I saw good quality steaks in the meat section...”

“I’ll get desserts,” Kibum says, stopping Yesung just as the other starts walking away. “Do you like any particular treat?”

Yesung answers with a gentle shake of his head before turning his back.



♥



He calls himself Yesung – and it feels as if Kibum is falling into a bottomless pit.





They are sitting across each other, a slice of perfectly grilled steak on each of their plates, the dessert waiting in the fridge. Kibum lets his mind wander for a moment while watches the other man eat. He has a number of questions but he isn’t sure if it’s right to prod.

Why’d you get so drunk last night?

Yesung looks up to a staring Kibum. He clears his throat and starts, “Yesterday was our anniversary, my ex and I.”

Kibum’s head tilts to one side, “I didn’t – what happened?” and he gives himself a good smack on the forehead. So much for not prodding.

“We lived in that very dorm room, back in college. We were both med students. But a year before graduating, he sat me down on the bed and told me that he needed to be free of me.”

Yesung laughs – bitter and lonely.

“Turns out he was getting married. Childhood friend. A woman.”

“I’m sorry,” Kibum offered, almost inaudibly.

The other shakes his head no. “It’s not your fault. But don’t worry. I’m fine. I have to be especially in my profession.”

Yesung puts another slice of steak into his mouth before looking back at Kibum, who was staring at him with an almost unreadable expression. “Really, I’m fine. Maybe I’d get some help and move on.”

The younger one nods his head. “You know where to find me.”