Title: A Mad World

Pairing: BaekYeol, KrisYeol, KaiBaek

Rating: NC-17 (Language, suggestions)

Length: 8969 Words (1/1)

Genre: Romance, Drama, verymild Angst

Summary: Chan Yeol wanted to care and Baek Hyun was lost in the dark and Kai just wanted to be selfish for once.

===

He lived in a three-room apartment. He liked calling it a suite, situated in a tall and prestigious residential suite facilitated with swimming pool and tennis court and gym. A high end place, really, to match with his rising career, a model, walked on the runway, poised and smug in flaunting designers’ hard work and pride and million dollars smile for pages of magazines.

A good life to be honest, a blessing for he was made out of beauty, strong abs and good looks.

It was something he was born for –his height, his beautiful face and his easy smiles. He loved what he was doing, his earnings were beyond satisfactory and his passion for fashion was more of a plus especially with the free designer shoes, jackets and shades. Baek Hyun never complained anyway when he brought home high end bags and shoes for the shorter male, he would only shook his head and wore it to his law class the next day or the other week.

Everything was so simple.

Chan Yeol took his shoes off, a pair of royal blue oxford shoes he gotten from a nice stylist who said he was cute, and put it in the tall shoe cupboard near the entrance door. The shoes were placed neatly next to each other, in line and not a millimetre higher or apart or unsymmetrical. Red, black, burgundy, teal, blue, mustard –shoes were lined and presented like soldiers, précised in line and symmetrical, placed and organised in colours and sizes.

It was neat.

It was organised.

Next to the cupboard was a vase, made out clay and painted in white. Two identical blue umbrellas were placed in it.

Dresser stoned in gray with a bowl marbled in white were placed against the wall, two olive candles each placed on a black candleholder at the bowl’s left and right.

It was symmetrical.

There were tall glass windows covered the whole wall next to the sofas of their living room where the view of the cityscape was a bliss at night, at dusk, at dawn.  

The floor was marbled in white; the walls were painted in white. The furniture was black and steel and glasses.

It was precise

Everything was all about being neat, précised and symmetrical.

Baek Hyun loved symmetry, neat and precise.

He’d go berserk and hysteric if things were uneven no matter if it was an inch messed up.

Because Baek Hyun loved control, no, he needed control.

See, he grew up in an orphanage and life was tough on him, painful even and always something that was akin to a thinning thread on a brink of falling apart, a frail thing indeed that he can never control. People made decision for him and everyday he grew up waiting and hoping to belong, to be accepted and wanted and needed. But he never got it, no one liked a boy with rounded nose and small and loud as him. Forever he had waited and hoped and realised that he could only wait and wait and hope.

He was greatly disappointed.

That was why he needed control, to feel balanced, safe, symmetrical, in control. 

Chan Yeol understood this, lived with it and accepted it and come to love it over time. Time –time was something that they were never short of. It was as if they were invincible.

They grew up with each other, best friends turned into lovers, because Chan Yeol used to be six years old and Baek Hyun was only six months older and over time, they got greedy. They played at the same playground, the same sandbox, the same swings. The only difference was Chan Yeol’s grandmother would fetched him home every evening and Baek Hyun would walked by himself to the rundown orphanage at the edge of the neighbourhood where the home was built in white and red.

Chan Yeol opened the black door to a relatively modest decorated bedroom with a dresser, walk-in closet, a bed and two bedside tables holding two quilted lamps.

The bed was big.

The bed used to be huge. Too much space between them that it had felt empty and they would have to huddle so closely to one another, legs intertwined, limbs mixed to the point of confusion because no matter how close they were, it was never enough. 

He thought it was so spacious that the distance between them was too far that the need to be so close with Baek Hyun was a sort of ritual, a need, really, to be warm, to be safe, to be loved. Baek Hyun never complained or questioned his tendencies and needs for skin contact because he craved as much for Chan Yeol’s touch.

Baek Hyun grew up with limited attention, limited love, he never had anyone to touch and smile and hug with.

Baek Hyun never liked the cold, but Chan Yeol couldn’t stand the heat, but despite all that, he would still lay his head on Baek Hyun’s chest or his stomach, because he liked how warm the other man would felt like.

His lover loved control, but he was utterly helpless in bed, utterly powerless at Chan Yeol’s caresses and s and , Chan Yeol would always him so hard because regardless of how the need for the other man was so ing strong –it was frustrating to be at the end of Baek Hyun’s madness, his control and his insecurities. It was hard to compliment his flaws because Baek Hyun was full of flaws, his existence was a flaw in itself and it was painful to keep up with him.

Chan Yeol had to be fast, witty, a step ahead because it was damn hard to please him.

Baek Hyun knew how miserable he was at times.

He made up by never complaining when Chan Yeol ed him especially too hard on too many of an occasion, biting the bedsheet or gritting his teeth till his face turned pale when the tall man came in him unprotected after thoroughly had him raw because Baek Hyun didn’t like mess, and mess was what Chan Yeol gave him along with pain. They did that continuously and always in the end, Chan Yeol would light up his stick of cigarette and kissed Baek Hyun’s bruised shoulders apologetically.

Baek Hyun only smiled because he knew.

He knew it so well because he was flawed and imperfect.

He knew how hard Chan Yeol was trying and he was never mad or angered and only grinned apologetically and told Chan Yeol how lucky he was to have a patient lover like Chan Yeol.

“Thanks for sticking by me.”

“I know how difficult I am, so thank you.”

Chan Yeol felt guilty for ing up his lover’s perception of love, but he couldn’t help it. Love wasn’t supposed to be painful, love was like an air, sweet aroma that made you feel belonged and warm and relax by being yourself and not all about pleasing your partner. He wondered if Baek Hyun felt all that? He wondered if Baek Hyun felt what he felt?

The bed they shared used to be spacious. It may not be the biggest of beds out there in the world, but it used to. A special haven that was only made for the two of them and it used to be enough.

Chan Yeol used to be the man who never asked for more, that now was enough, that Baek Hyun was enough.

But as Chan Yeol stripped and changed his boxer inside the closet before putting on a white tee, he thought the bed was too small for the two of them. His feet were wobbly as he walked to the bed and he laid his tired body on the latex mattress. Baek Hyun was already asleep, anticipating his early midterm paper at 9am and Chan Yeol’s body still tingled with the pleasure he knew was impossible to achieve with his lover, his best friend, his roommate.

Kris’ eyes still burned in his head, his s were an echo to his body, and then there were his words –slurs of possessiveness, drunk in claiming Chan Yeol over and over and over again.

“You may return to him every night, but this body belongs to me, Yeol.”

Kris still burned in him, his words from just moments ago, tattooed in his head, imprinted on his brain, his skull.

“Your body can only be pleasured by me.”

Chan Yeol had moaned and shouted and screamed after all, begged for him to go faster, faster and faster, because he was sinful like that –unfaithful to the person who needed him the most.

But Kris was right.

Baek Hyun was sleeping behind him, face pale under the darkness and all he could think of was Kris. He wanted the man so badly, the want was just so thick that it was burning him whole and he just can’t come to care of how he was betraying his lover repeatedly behind his back.

He hated Kris.

He hated him so much because the man was always right.

===

“Touch me.” Baek Hyun had whispered above him two nights later, his soft hair framing his face and his breathing was warm on Chan Yeol’s face. He was topless as he always did when sleeping and on his torso was a blooming purplish bruise when he hit the table moments ago during dinner. He tended to bruised easily these days and despite how the thought of reminding the other man to be more careful always brushed through his mind, it always slipped away. Always Chan Yeol forgotten to remind him of it because he was almost always too busy withholding his vomit from betraying the man whenever their gazes crossed.

Ah.

The last time he touched Baek Hyun was last month, three weeks to be exact  and it was sad how that five years ago he had burned for this exact man, wanting and loving and lusting and couldn’t stop touching him even for a single brief moment.

 Now laid here on the small bed was a blank canvas of what he used to be.

So empty and so blank.

It was 11pm.

He knew this because the digital clock on his handset indicated so when he checked it minutes ago for any incoming text from Kris and it upset him that there wasn’t. The moonlight coursed through the tall window next to their bed, the white curtain was slightly parted when Chan Yeol passed through it earlier and accidently pulled it apart. Baek Hyun didn’t notice it for if he did, he would’ve gone mental and crazy now, not breathing down his face with such a sinful and wanton look.

But he didn’t touch him.

Baek Hyun moved away after that with a resigned sigh, sleeping silently after that with slumped shoulders. His heart was beating hard and he turned towards Baek Hyun’s small bare shoulders, his arms weren’t as firm as Chan Yeol’s or Kris’ and his hips were wide, almost feminine as he lay on his side.

Baek Hyun was silent and after a moment, Chan Yeol could tell he was asleep for his breathing had started to calm and soon, they were replaced with a quiet snore. Chan Yeol couldn’t help the frown he was spotting, his chest and guts churned for the guilt –it was persistent, but he couldn’t help himself into wanting the other man. Baek Hyun was always tired these days; he wasn’t as fit because of his lack of exercise. Chan Yeol couldn’t remember when the last time Baek Hyun worked out, his stamina was bound to be dead.

He laid on his back after a while and looked up to the ceiling. He felt terrible, to be stuck here in their dying love and Chan Yeol thought that their relationship was akin to a fallen star, lights about to be absorbed black and soon will become a dull gray rock. His handset vibrated and he didn’t even spare it a glance.

Eight years ago he was fourteen, he had fell for Baek Hyun.

Seven years ago he was fifteen, he had confessed.

Five years ago he was seventeen, he had managed to convince Baek Hyun and made the man loved him too. He’d chased the man so hard, so victorious he was in the end to finally manage in bending him over his way, made Baek Hyun love him too, had him locked and kept.

So where was this so-called love then?

Where was this maddening love?

That possessiveness whenever his eyes lay on the small figured boy?

Where was everything?

What happened to them?

What happened to the inferno that burned him five years ago when they were seventeen?

===

“What’s wrong?” He asked when they sat on the couch one evening. Chan Yeol was flipping through his new assignment on his tablet sent by his manager, there were plenty, but one actually caught his attention.

Milan.

Kris would be there, he definitely would because both men were in the same profession and the man had mentioned something about it before. He schooled his face into a blank one, a natural place, really, to contrast the excitement of promised pleasure and ecstasy that would surely be there.

He now couldn’t help from looking forward to it.

He looked away from his tablet, looking at Baek Hyun from the other side of the couch.

Baek Hyun’s grin was easy, modest and light as he looked at him. Chan Yeol never looked at his eyes anymore these days –too many secrets he kept and he couldn’t risk feeling guilty for he would surely crumble under Baek Hyun’s questioning and sharp gaze. “I think I’m going to fail my Civil Rights paper.” He smiled and looked down to his lap, to his hands.

He looked sad, but Chan Yeol thought it was sadder how he found the idea of comforting him didn’t even crossed his mind until later that night when Baek Hyun came home delirious and drunk and Tao had looked at him with resignation and told him how Baek Hyun had ed up his paper.

“Just cheer him up for a bit. I’m sure he’ll be fine in the morning.” Tao cringed when Baek Hyun’s flailing arms hit the wall of the hallway a bit too hard as he wobbled towards the bedroom. Chan Yeol was standing by the doorway, Baek Hyun was managing on his own behind him.

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” Chan Yeol smiled apologetically and waved Tao goodbye.  

He didn’t take care of Baek Hyun.

The man was vomiting his guts into the toilet bowl. He had gargled at the sink after a while, washed his face after and the only reason Chan Yeol knew this at all was because he had lain under the duvet, phone in his grip and he only looked up when the smaller male he climbed into the bed in his boxer.

He was so independent that Chan Yeol had forgotten his vow to never let him mopped in his misery alone five years ago.

Baek Hyun was so used to take care of himself that it had become natural for him not to depend on others and crumbled.

“Baek, you okay?” He asked again the question he posed earlier that day from the foot of the bed. It felt dull, because instead of the genuine concern that he should have as a lover, now it was more of an obligation to just ask.

Baek Hyun grunted out in response.

“I’m gonna die.” He moaned, voice muffled as he pushed his head into the pillow, “I’m gonna die, Yeol.” He moaned again and Chan Yeol could only sigh at his dramatic exaggeration.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Baek, you’re not going to die.” He pulled the cover off of himself, pushing himself into sitting on the mattress before he stood. “Just do well for your coursework and finals, you’ll be fine.” He scoffed and patted Baek Hyun’s feet as he walked out the room, phone quickly shoved into his pocket.

His phone was vibrating again with an incoming call.

===

Baek Hyun was already sleeping when he came home that night. He placed the heavy luggage on the floor in their shared closet –it was huge and filled especially with Chan Yeol’s shirts, jackets, jeans, khakis, bags and shades. The dresser was filled with perfumes and few bottles of BB cream, concealers, moisturisers and toners.

He showered after that, stared down at the marks Kris left behind. It was one week before New Year when he told Baek Hyun he will be off for an assignment in Malibu.

“I’ll be gone for a week. New Year’s party and stuff, you know they pay models to attend, don’t you?”

Baek Hyun scowled and told him that he’d especially learnt to make his favourite lemon meringue from Kyung Soo. Chan Yeol had apologised then with a sheepish grin, knowing fully well what a ty cook Baek Hyun was and in the past, he’d surely passed out from happiness at the idea of the short man putting in so much effort to actually cook. But now, he couldn’t help comparing Kris to him –the model was a fantastic cook while Baek Hyun detested making any food.

“Do you need the money that badly?”

“Not really, but it’s a good build up for my portfolio, babe, I can get more work in the future, networking stuff –people will know me.”

“Fine. Your loss, you’re going to miss my first made dessert you know.”

“I know. Shame on me. But it’s work-related, Baek, there’s nothing I can do.”

Chan Yeol was lucky Baek Hyun was never nosy with his work, stupidly trusting him all this while and he didn’t know what he did to deserver the man. It was a trait Chan Yeol had come to appreciate greatly. It used to be hard to ignore the guilt, but now it was as natural as breathing for him to squash them down every time Baek Hyun trusted each of his words like a brick, no matter how Chan Yeol had been lying right in his face.

He’d held Kris the whole time and they went into the sea and onto the yacht and the bars and the clubs and fireworks.

The assignment was really during the New Year’s Eve throughout the countdown.

He towelled his hair dry and laid in his sleeping pants and white tee before sighing out.

Kris was getting impatient.

It had been eleven months since that particular work in Hong Kong, eleven months since they first pushed one another against the wall and Kris ed him hard. They had continued on, never stopped and Chan Yeol couldn’t just walk away. It would be messy and massive and Baek Hyun had no one else. He was the only one Baek Hyun had so it would be cruel to pursue his own selfishness.  

“But isn’t staying is kind of selfish on his part though? What differences does it make?”

I don’t know, he’d told Kris.

Everything was too confusing now and despite how his love for the shorter man was no longer there, he still needed him, they still needed each other because Baek Hyun was there to pick up the pieces when Chan Yeol’s grandmother, his only relative left, had passed away two years ago when he was twenty.

Baek Hyun never left his side and he was always there whenever Chan Yeol needed him.

He may have Kris now, but if he left, who would Baek Hyun turn to? Who would he had left when Chan Yeol was his everything –his lover, soul mate, best friend, brother, father, mother, family?

Tao?

Kyung Soo?

He could feel Baek Hyun’s ribs when he wrapped long arms around him for the first time after a long while. His body was warm and there were yellowish bruise at the back of his palm and Chan Yeol wondered what had he hit today? Was it the umbrellas again? Or was it the doorknob? The walls? The tables?

Sometimes Baek Hyun could be such a klutz.

He tightened his arms and laid his head on Baek Hyun’s shoulder, felt its hard and bony structure and he wondered –when had he lost this much weight?

The sleeping man looked frail and pale.

How long had it been since he last held the man? Since he really looked at him?

Since when was his hair black again? Wasn’t it dyed burgundy before? Soft and frizzy at the same time under his fingers, had it grew back black that quickly?

It was January when he realised that he almost didn’t recognised the man he shared the bed with anymore.

===

Chan Yeol had always known that Baek Hyun was a master at poker face. His face had looked blank and his shoulders were slouched in his usual laid-back poise and he was silent –too quiet in fact, and the only indication of his discomfort and shock were his shaking hands.

He told Chan Yeol that he would be at the intensive camp for his course for a week, but he came back earlier than expected.

Kris was in the midst of his tryst as he pushed into Chan Yeol on their bed, his hand was scratching at the taller man’s back and he had screamed, pleaded for the man to go harder and faster because he was about to ing come and he was about to lose it when Baek Hyun opened their door and his luggage fell to the floor with a loud thud despite how it had looked light and weightless. Kris had pulled away and Chan Yeol felt his heart stopped –his palm turned cold and his hair stood at its end.

“Get out.” Baek Hyun had seethed at Kris. “Get the away from him.” He hissed and Kris had snorted.

“And I should, why?”

Chan Yeol thought that he was going to die.

“Not now, Kris!” He said desperately and the man looked put out, but he did walk away after that, putting on his clothes languidly before he was gone, hard on stubborn. Baek Hyun didn’t even spare Chan Yeol a glance after that as he walked out into the living room.

His body was slouched, he looked tired and Chan Yeol was too much of a coward to follow him.

Baek Hyun was sleeping on the couch when Chan Yeol finally had gather up his guts when he walked out from the shower and he could only stand by the doorway to their room as he felt his stomach cramped at the inevitable. Baek Hyun looked so small in his black hoody and white grey jeans. A brown plaster patched on the back of his palm and his mouth hanged open as he breathed in.

Such a klutz.

It was two hours later when he was sleeping on the bed that he heard the door open and he sat up quickly on the bed, watching as Baek Hyun stripped.

“Come to bed later, yeah?” He said hopefully, groggy and hazy with sleep.

Baek Hyun looked at him and smiled. It was eerie because his smile was the same as the ones he offered him on mornings when they saw each other or at night when they wish each other goodnight.

What was he feeling?

“Okay.” Baek Hyun was still smiling as he pushed the attached bathroom door open. “I will.” He closed the door silently.

He didn’t know what to feel.

He didn’t know what to think.

He didn’t want to lose him.

He couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not yet.

He woke up again an hour later and found that he was still alone on the bed. The light from the bathroom was switched off, the room was dark and he looked down to see that the duvet was covering him. Baek Hyun was sleeping on the couch when he walked out in search for the other man.

Was he mad?

How does he look when he was mad?

He couldn’t remember.

Was he this silent? Was he this resigned?

He couldn’t remember. 

===

Baek Hyun wasn’t on the couch when Chan Yeol came out of the bedroom the next morning. His belonging was still there, his luggage, his laptop, everything.

Did he left?

He wouldn’t, would he?

His body paralysed with chill, freezing him numb as his heartbeat hasten in its pace and his head felt light because he really didn’t know. How would he? He was rarely there, he didn’t remember anymore, didn’t aware of Baek Hyun’s habit no longer.  

He wouldn’t leave, would he?

His hands were shaking as he dialled Baek Hyun’s number on his handset. His eyes felt heavy and dry when a tired voice answered from the other line.

“Where are you, Baek? I came out and you’re not here.” He told him, voice shaky and suddenly, he was six years old again and the fear of rejection filled him greatly, but this time, his grandmother won’t be here to push and encourage him to talk to the lone small boy in the sandbox.

There was a chuckle on the other line and suddenly he remembered –the smiles, the chuckles. Baek Hyun didn’t smiled to him like he did to a stranger, he grinned. Baek Hyun didn’t chuckled at him, he cackled and laughed. Baek Hyun might be a control freak, but he was loud because he was small and he needed to be heard and Chan Yeol never gave up and he would’ve told the man to shut up about it, about everything and they would clean any mess together and he would hugged the smaller man by the couch and they would each other to Monday until one of them couldn’t walk.  

Am I a stranger now?

Am I a stranger to you?

“I’m out for breakfast that’s all. Missed my dinner last night and you were still sleeping when I went out.” He said, his voice was flat, empty. Baek Hyun didn’t sound the same anymore he realised. He sounded as blank as Chan Yeol thought he was.

Was his voice this blank all this while?

Or was it just today?

He didn’t know.

“Will you be long?” He said panicky. They needed to talk. He needed to convince the other man to stay. He’ll let Kris go –he just wanted Baek Hyun, he wanted to work out.

They were worth it.

They definitely were.  

His mind made up.

Only Baek Hyun.

“I won’t be long.” Baek Hyun told him.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

===

Baek Hyun didn’t come back. He only reached home fourteen hours later and Chan Yeol was nodding his head on the couch waiting for him.

“Go to bed, Yeol.” He told him and went into the shower, his black diary left on the bedside table. Chan Yeol only looked at it and remembered that he once saw its content. Calendar full of appointments and deadlines and reminders because he didn’t trust himself to put down everything in a phone or a tablet.

“You know me. The next thing you know, my phone will be in the damn drain again or something. But diary? This bulky thing? I won’t lose it, definitely.”

“Whatever you say, man.”  

Baek Hyun wasn’t on the bed when Chan Yeol opened his eyes five hours later.

He was sleeping in the guestroom in a white sweater with black sleeves and long black sleeping pants. His socks were white.

He looked so small.  

===

It was 5pm and Baek Hyun still wasn’t home since he left at nine this morning. They still hadn’t talked safe for the few exchange of greetings and Chan Yeol calling to ask where the older man was.

“I’m at the grocery. I’ll be back soon.” He said and voice still frustratingly aloof.

“How soon?” He asked defeated, tired of their game, tip-toeing around each for the whole week. Kris’ texts and calls were all ignored and an assignment was rejected just for him to stay.

“Soon, don’t worry.” Baek Hyun answered quietly.

He came back four hours later and there weren’t any groceries. He went straight to the shower even before Chan Yeol could even open his mouth to greet him.

===

It was 2pm, five days later, and Baek Hyun wasn’t home since he left at eleven this morning.

“Where are you?” Chan Yeol asked, more out of routine than anything.

“I’m at the campus. Need to settle some stuff with the management.” Baek Hyun said.

“How long will you be there?” Chan Yeol asked, hopeful although a little dejected. They were no better than what they were in the first place on February 16^th.

“It’s going to take some time though.” Baek Hyun informed and Chan Yeol thought he could hear the sound of papers and muffled voices of an office and the ringing telephone and the beeping of the Photostat machine.

“What time will you be home, you think?”

Baek Hyun was quiet, his stomach cramped with liquid cold and his hands were sweaty. “Baek?”

He heard the man exhaled out from the other line. “I –” he paused, hesitating maybe, “Yeol, maybe I won’t come back after all.” He said.

“What?” The line went dead and that was the last time he heard from him.

===

It was nine months later that a strange man came with a familiar black diary.

The man had worn a loose gray tee and a black leathered jacket. His skinny jeans were black and his shoes were leathered in black. He wore a royal blue backpack and Chan Yeol was sure it was leather as well. The stranger’s skin was toned in a beautiful tan and his eyes were small and droopy –almost dreamy and his lips were thick. His hair was a messy mob of black and brown and his voice was deep although intoned with a childish naivety.

 Chan Yeol stood by the doorway and behind him the walls were no longer white –it was mocha.

“Are you Park Chan Yeol?” The stranger asked and Chan Yeol thought his voice was really beautiful. The man looked sad however and his voice actually did portray such blue emotion. He had looked disappointed and Chan Yeol just couldn’t begin to fathom why. “I’m Kai.” He said and Chan Yeol took his offered hand in a firm shook.

“Who are you?” Chan Yeol asked. “Not to be rude or anything.” He clarified and the man gave him a nod and a small smile.

“I’m no one important. I’m just here to deliver a letter.” He said as he pushed out his hand. In his grasp was a letter, neat and enveloped in white. Chan Yeol looked down on the piece of letter dubiously before looking back at the handsome strange man.

“What’s this?” He asked and took the letter.

“It’s a letter.” Kai finished with a mocking smile and suddenly, Chan Yeol thought that he was ugly indeed.

Chan Yeol felt his eyebrow twitched, annoyance filled him as he looked at the other man. He knew it was a letter that much was obvious. “I know it’s a letter. But from who? What’s in it?” He asked and the man tilted his head and it was strange how quickly his smile turned hateful, cruel even.

Chan Yeol decided he didn’t like this stranger that much.

“The content was not something of which within my knowledge, obviously, but if you must know, it’s from Byun Baek Hyun.” He said before he gasped out loud as if he just remembered something. He quickly pulled his bag away from his back, pushing them to the floor and he rummaged through it to take out a familiar looking black diary. “This will help you understanding the letter though, so take it.” Kai grinned and handed out the black diary.

His heart clenched, suddenly the memories of his betrayal fresh on his mind and his head felt light, reeling with unknown frustration.

Why wasn’t Baek Hyun here to deliver this himself?

He never pegged the man to be such a coward, so why the need for a middleman?

Why now he decided to come back?

Chan Yeol was all ready to change, begged for a chance even, and Baek Hyun had cruelly left him just like that. He was selfish, he knew, but Baek Hyun at least should’ve let him apologise, giving him room to voice out his guilt and reasons.

But he just left.

“Why can’t he give this himself?” Chan Yeol growled out, annoyed and confusingly angry.

Kai had smiled then. The quirk of his lips seemed eerie and cold. Distance and mocking as if he thought Chan Yeol was a fool, the foulest of the fools.

“That would be impossible, silly.” He grinned.

“Why not?” Was Baek Hyun still angry? Disgusted? Sad? Chan Yeol thought he can’t blame the other man for it, really. Chan Yeol was the only one he had and he had willingly betrayed him.

Are you even sorry at all?

“Well, haven’t you heard?” The man smiled.

===

He really liked it up here, it was calming.

The stars were too many to count and they glittered in the dark black canvas of the night. The night breeze was cooling, gently as they shaped his hair into messy threads of black and brown and frizz.

His shoes were leathered in black with black strings; his top was a loose tank top in gray, covered in black leather jacket. His skinny jeans were black.

He was sitting by the wall, hidden from the door, where he knew behind it was the staircase that led from the rooftop to the 30^th floor below. Not everyone can access through the door –it was coded and locked and only employees or numerical geniuses can usually break through it.

But he wasn’t a numerical genius.

And he wasn’t an employee either.

No.

He was just lucky.

Because he slept with the admin officer from the law firm that rented the building that one night and the fool was idiotic enough to reveal such sensitive information.

“You’re such a gorgeous boy, Kai.”

It was noisy up there.

The sound from the air vendor was loud. There were railings at the edge of the rooftop and on the other side of it were only two feet of concrete ground before the open air. He smiled though, couldn’t help from musing out that this was a really good spot for suicides. It was dark up there except for the few emergency and fluorescent lights placed on the steeled door and the huge water tank, placed near the complex mix of steels and neon that made up the billboard and the name of the building, the firm.

Stevenson & Choi.

He flicked his wrist and cringed at the glow of the digits –0423 it read.

Dawn was coming and soon, the whole city would vibrate with the sound of living and traffic and people.

He loved watching how people lived.

It was entertaining to see them complaining and living an ungrateful life and called the world unfair as nothing was ever enough. Money, love, health, this, that –everything was never up to what they wanted, anticipated, hoped for and so they thrived, lied, stole, killed, took and took and took.

Bastards thought they deserved what they took and the world was theirs to take.  

He can’t wait to see them crumbled into dust and the world to be silent and empty again.

He’d seen it millennia ago, he was sure that a few more centuries would be just like a breeze.

Kai.

His life wasn’t that of a man or a spirit or a God. Maybe he was a watcher? Call him a witness, the witness to the world’s corruption; walking and moving and observing in shadows, but prohibited from interfering.

He was lucky like that –because he never wanted anything.

He loved watching fate’s doing falls into pieces like a strategist pulling an attack; like a player knocking down another king in a play of chess and he never wanted to interfere with anything for what he felt towards mankind was a confusing mix of hatred and love.

How long had it been? Since he was first deployed and existed? He didn’t even know why he was there or how he had come into existence, but he was just here, just existed.

But it was then that the steeled door was pushed open and he shifted his gaze onto a young man who walked out in black hoody and gray skinny jeans. His green canvas shoes somehow imprinted in his mind and he smiled because it was strange how the man had looked rotten and beautiful at the same time. His eyes were covered in huge black rimmed spectacles and his hair was covered in a black beanie. In his hand was a black leathered diary and he thought that it was queer for a man these days to hold onto an old-school papered diary instead of the modern and technological tablets or such devices.

His lips were thin, pale just like his skin. He can’t see the man’s hair that clearly because it was dark, but he thought the man’s neck was small and delicate, pale and would be warm and delicious if it was under his teeth against a white sheet.

The strange man was quiet as he walked towards the railing and his steps were calculated and his nails were pale –almost yellow.

He couldn’t smell anything from the man and he thought that it was odd. Human usually reeked of this smell, unique and alien and so human. Spirits smelled like death, like a rotten fruit which sometimes can be bad and good, depending on their nature and the good ones always had reminded him of red wine or liquorice and the animals smelled like leather.

But this man was neither.

His lips quirked upwards as he his lips when a realisation hit him.

The man was nearing his death. Technically, he was neither human nor spirits.

This man was dying.

The railing made a sort of an empty clang sound as the man leaned against it, probably the tail of his hoody’s zipper collided against the railing and his pale and long fingers grabbed on its iron rod. His shoulders were small and his waist was small. No matter that his hips and thighs were quite shapely for a man, but despite his curve, Kai wasn’t blind to the man’s bony structure, weight probably lost and body rotting away.

“It’s rude to stare.” The man started and Kai couldn’t help the smirk quirking up on his lips.

“My apology. I wasn’t aware that my stare might come off as an offense.” He said with a firm voice, to ensure that his words were heard through the noise of the air vendors. The man didn’t move or turned. He remained stoic against the railing.

“You talk funny.” The man finally said and Kai had to strain his ears to hear him. The man’s voice was weak. Kai had always hated weak people.  

“How do you get up here anyway? The door is coded.” He constructed his words carefully, going for more of a casual tone and his eyes followed the man’s feet shifting in finding a comfortable position to stand in. The dying man however only settled for bending his knees a fraction against the railing.

“I interned here last year.” The man said and his voice was a little raspy. “I took law.” He continued in a blank voice.

“I see.” He answered and loved how the warm air from the air vendor washed over his face, a contrast from the cold night. “I’m Kai.” Kai informed the strange dying man by the railing from his position against the wall. Everything was concreted in gray up there and he thought that even the air here smelled like cement. “Why do you want to jump?” He asked and felt his heartbeat hiccupped as the man’s shoulder tensed by his accusation.

The man let out a sigh and Kai thought his grip on the black diary tighten and the man looked so small against the massive black sky. Kai thought it was beautiful –the man soon would join the vast black and dark when collected by sweet death and Kai couldn’t wait to see that because the man was really beautiful, the blankness of his voice, his smell, the contour of his body, his hips, his thighs –everything was.

How will the man’s face looked like if every other thing about him was so beautiful?

“I’m dying, Kai.” He said –voice weak and Kai thought it was obvious, what, from that weak posture, from his scent, from his defeated shoulders, his build and his voice. “I’m sick.”

Kai touched his lips, felt it rough and chapped against his coarse fingers before he his lips, wetting it against the cold night. “Why are you dying?” He asked, not really curious, but thought that the man needed someone to tell. The man’s voice sounded lonely and suddenly –Kai wished the man would look at him because he loved to see the contour of his irises and his lashes and the light lighting his cornea.

A dying lonely man at least deserve that.

To be looked at.

Physical touch.

“I was diagnosed with Leukaemia last year.” The man said. “Acute Myeloid Leukaemia.” He finished and Kai could only tilt his head because he wasn’t familiar with the symptoms and the causes and the treatments. He heard of it before, but he never knew of it in such details.

“What are the symptoms?” He asked. “What are the treatments?” He added. “Can it be treated?” He finished and he thought it was strange that the man’s shoulders slackened as if he was relaxed.

Ah.

The man must be really lonely.

Kai wondered how long the man had kept it to himself.

“The symptoms may vary.” He said. “Usually one may bruise easily, fatigue, weight loss, fever, nausea and such.” His voice was drawled and blank as if reading the cold and concrete letters from a textbook or from the papered result of a man’s permanent death-stamp or medical test result. “Common treatments are chemo, but it can’t be treated if it had perforated too much.” He said.

“What are your symptoms?” He asked again, this time genuinely curious because the man was empty, so empty that even his blank voice that uttered words of death seemed empty. The man was defeated, not motivated and at loss, loneliness perhaps or prolonged depression. It was funny how no man was an exception to the promise of death.

It was stranger that the man was alone and not with loved ones. Usually death brought individuals closer, because the threat of death was permanent and a person will only really appreciate the other when they were about to lose them.

That was why he hated humanity in the first place.

Everyone was so selfish and fickle and they were all about me, me and me.

“I bruised easily, skin turning yellow and blue when it collided against the doorknob, the wall, the umbrella and I get tired easily.” He said and Kai wondered why the man still answered his jumbles of question.

Kai didn’t knew why he was talking with the man, prolonged and delayed his jump, but Kai concluded that it may be because he wanted to hear the man’s sweet voice longer, to be at the end of such sweet and sad voice and hear it a bit longer because the man soon would be gone.

“Why do you want to jump? Won’t your family miss you?” Kai asked and he wondered why the man’s hand trembled at the question.

“I’m an orphan, sweet Kai.” He said and Kai wondered why his chest clenched when the man called him thus. “I don’t have a family.” He continued.

“Don’t you have lovers? Or best friends? Or neighbours? Or employer? Humans have them right?” Kai asked and his heart was hammering because suddenly, he didn’t want the man to go.

“I have a best friend, a lover, a roommate once, but it was a long time ago.” He spat out tiredly and his voice this time was no longer blank –he sounded sad. “But now, I have none.”

“Why do you want to jump?” He asked again and he thought his question sounded repetitive.

“I can’t burden the people from my past with my decaying body.” He said with an empty voice, as if he made up those words just to justify his death. “If I jump now, my body would be kept in the morgue. No one will claim me because I have no families. Whatever remains of my good organs will be used for a good cause then at least –my existence would mean something.” He finished and climbed over the ironed railing.

Kai thought he can’t breathe for a moment.

He really didn’t want the man to go.

Kai held his breath when the man finally turned to look at him.

Why must he only be a bystander?

His eyes were small and slanted, blurred with death and his skin was greasy and inky white. There was a mole on the right side of his upper lip and his nose was rounded and small and Kai thought that –ahh, the man was really beautiful. He wished he could be more like the human being that he hated, for the want in his chest was thick, wanting to bend and keep and lock the dying man away only for himself.

“Aren’t you a bit selfish to end what was not meant to be controlled by you?” Kai said quickly and his breath hitched when the man let a small smile curved his lips.

Why can’t he interfere?

“Selfish?” The man spat. “Isn’t it selfish to keep me around, to let the people around me burdening my lost life? Burdened with the memories of me?” He raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking hateful and bitter. “I prayed and no one listen. Let me be kind enough, because if he won’t spare me the time for a help, then at least let me go my own way.” The man said, but Kai knew he was lying. Knew that the anger was for no one in particular, knew that the man was just tired. “Just look at it this way, sweet boy,” The man’s voice this time was soft. “At least no one will know my end and be tarnished with the loss and the sadness, no?” He laughed and Kai thought the huffed of air and the breathy voice was the sweetest sound he’d heard.

It was cruel. The man was cruel.

Kai walked closer to the man and felt his chest tighten. “What’s in that diary?” He asked and the man shifted his gaze onto the black leather diary before looking back at Kai.

“My life,” He said. “A journal of my life for the year before and this year.” He finished.

“Can I keep it, at least?” Kai asked and for the first time in years, in millennia –Kai wanted something, to be selfish, to want. He knew he couldn’t keep the man here, the man was already dying, but at least if he had the diary, he somehow could retain what was the man’s two years worth of life.

Ahh, he really wanted the man to stay.

He wanted him.

He wanted that small neck, that small shoulder, that small eyes, that thin lips, that small waist, that wide hips, that wide thighs, that long fingers.

Why can’t he attain this stranger when he finally capable of want?

“Why do you want to keep a stranger’s life, Kai?” The man said and Kai thought the man looked sad, longing and sad. “Why do you want to burden yourself with a stranger’s memories?”

Why wouldn’t anyone want you?

Kai wanted to say because he can’t have the dying man, but he didn’t say it and only held out his hand.

The man hesitated and Kai thought that he would too if he was the man. He would be dubious and cautious and defensive and angry if a stranger demanded for his memories, especially if that was the only thing he had left to hold on to, but the man held out his diary and placed it on Kai’s opened palm. Kai grabbed the man’s retreating hand before the man could pulled it away and kissed his fingertips.

They were yellow and cold and smelled of antiseptic and hospital and medicine.

“Can I at least know your name?” He asked and he thought it was pathetic how his voice croaked strangely as he finished his sentence.

The man looked sad and Kai thought the man had looked as if he was about to cry. “My name is Byun Baek Hyun.” He said and Kai rushed to the railing and pulled the man and pressed his warm red lips against Baek Hyun’s cold pale lips, wondering when the last anyone actually asked for his name was. Baek Hyun didn’t taste sweet or warm, but only fouled with dry and the stench of a sick man that didn’t consumed anything, but medicines. He guessed the man hadn’t eaten anything that day.

The kiss only lasted for seconds, but Kai thought that he would remember the contour of Baek Hyun’s dry lips until the world turned into dirt and rocks again and the skies meshed into black and blue and orange. Baek Hyun smiled at him, small and sad, but his eyes weren’t even teary, betraying his sad look.

“If I was to see you again tomorrow and the day after tomorrow –I might fall in love with you.” Kai told him because it was the truth.

“Then Kai, I hope that in another life, I’ll meet you two years ago or five years ago or seven years ago and we could be lovers.” Baek Hyun said sadly. “Then I’ll have you love only me.”

Kai thought the whooshing sound the wind made when Baek Hyun fell backwards into the darkness was deafening. The loud crashing sound of a heavy body fell onto the parked vehicle was gory and vulgar, but he could only clench the black diary tight against his chest.

He remembered sad and blank small eyes and pale small lips and long small neck.

Baek Hyun was really beautiful and if he didn’t looked down to the broken body of the man at least he could pretend that he’ll meet him again another day. Tomorrow, the day after or next week.

His watch blinked into 0615 and already the sound of a man screaming from the 24-hours sundries from across the road was loud and the voice of the security guard from the ground floor of the building was panicky, calling ambulance and police to inform the possibilities of a young man either plunging into his own death or pushed by another or accidents.

Kai walked again to the wall where he had seated initially and slide down to his original position. His hands were shaking and for the first time in his old years and age –he felt heartbroken. He didn’t know what to do, it was really devastating. He can’t breathe, his stomach hurt really badly and his chest felt so constricted he thought his heart was about to burst.

He flipped open the diary and looked at the neat and small writing of a dead man. It was the diary for the year 2014 and 2015. There were dates, doctors’ appointments and names.

Dr. Lee.

Dr. Koo.

Chan Yeol.

Kyung Soo.

Zi Tao.

Kris.

And on a page with the year 2014 on top of the page and the month was October. The date was 13^th and written in red pen was ‘Result from the hospital.’ and on the 14^th ‘Result came out positive: AML.’

It was dull.

November 10^th ‘Check-up (09:00): Dr. Lee.’; November 15^th‘Midterm (20:00-21:30): Family Law.’; November 16^th‘Midterm (16:30-18:00): Business Contract.’; November 18^th‘Midterm (09:00-10:30): Civil Rights.’, ‘November 19^th‘Midterm (14:00-15:15): History of Law.’; November 24^th‘Yeol: Assignment in Milan.’.

December 5^th‘Kyung Soo (14:00): Learn lemon meringue.’; December 7^th‘School fees.’; December 10^th‘Check-up (09:00): Dr. Lee, (11:00): Dr. Koo.’; December 18^th‘Zi Tao: Return Civil Rights textbook.’; December 20^th‘Kyung Soo (17:00): Learn Lemon meringue.’; December 29^th‘Yeol: Assignment in Malibu.’.

January 5^th‘Yeol: Arrival from Malibu.’; January 10^th‘Check-up (09:00): Dr. Lee, (11:00): Dr. Koo.’; January 15^th‘Check-up (10:00): Dr. Koo.’; January 22^nd‘Dr. Koo (09:00): Test.’.

February 3^rd‘Check-up (09:00): Dr. Lee, (10:00): Dr. Koo.’; February 12^th‘Hospital: Admission for test (Dr. Lee).’; February 16^th‘Hospital: Discharged.’; February 16^th‘Yeol and Kris.’; February 27^th‘Admin Office: Submit letter to end tuition(Medical).’.

May 2^nd‘Hospital: Chemo.’.

Today was July 6^th.

Today Byun Baek Hyun died.

At the end of the page was an envelope and on the front of it was blank. The letter was written in black inked pen and the handwriting wasn’t as neat. It looked almost like a drabble, messy and tired. Short, but précised.  

A confession.  

And he couldn’t help the grin lighting up his face.

The smileys though…

===

I’m not mad, Chan Yeol-lie. I’m just sad. I still love you. Funny isn’t it? I’m flawed and you’re perfect. Thank you for sticking by. Kris (or whoever it is by now, you go tiger ;D) will make you happy.  

=]

p/s: Chemos are too expensive, so remember. Contrary to popular belief, empty wallet does kill.

XD

Baek Hyun

-End-

note: lol I changed a lot of things. This shot used to be a 7k thing and it's almost 9k now XD 

-bluecoins