Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side until he hears a light crack over the sound of brewing coffee and morning jogs. With his laptop in front of him, a cup of coffee on the side, there was a certain peace at seven in the morning. He decides today is when he’ll finish the third to the last chapter.

An hour passed and the sound of brewing coffee and morning jogs had been replaced by sizzling pans and light chatter. He wonders if he was trying to sabotage himself by going to a diner. He sighs and tells himself that maybe today isn’t the day after all. He leans back in his booth, uncurling his fingers from the keyboard, and then reaches for his coffee. He sips and the scalding heat and bitter taste equals to a full eight hour sleep. His bagged eyes roam around the room; the people were tired and worn but smiling.

This town is too happy, he thought to himself, as he shuts down his laptop and leaves his coffee cup half empty.




The next day, seven in the morning, Kyungsoo finds himself sitting at the same booth and drinking the same bitter coffee and hopeful thoughts that today’s the day that he’ll finish his chapter. Though, as soon as the room was filled with the smell of crisp air of pure contentment, he leaves.




Kyungsoo is sure that it’s not because of the warm feeling he gets when he’s at the diner and certainly not because of the bittersweet nostalgia that hits him when he smells pancake batter that he comes back to the same diner and sits at the same booth to order the same coffee to try and focus on his work but only to leave when the clock hits an hour because the nostalgia goes out of control by then and he can’t help but storm out.

Kyungsoo thinks it’s the taste of the coffee – it was perfectly bitter and yet leaves a sweet after taste – the reason why he finds himself sitting on the same booth for the fifth time this week, laptop in front of him and his recently declared favorite cup. It was plain white with a picture of a brewer and coffee beans and something written in French, how cliché, he thought and then he takes a sip.

But then again, he is a writer, in a diner, drinking coffee and looking for inspiration in the wrong places.

How cliché.



Ten minutes before the hour passed, Kyungsoo looks around the room and for the first time he sees someone that was sitting alone. Like him. In the far corner of the room, sitting on a wooden stool and leaning on a wooden desk, furrowed eyebrows and scribbling something on a piece of paper. Kyungsoo finds out that the boy is the son of the owner of the diner.

Ten minutes had passed and Kyungsoo leaves even before the pans started to sizzle, completely missing the wonder painted over the boy’s eyes.



Kyungsoo thinks he’s somehow a masochist, he’s sitting on the same booth, same cup of coffee in hand, even though, Baekhyun, his editor called him last night and yelled profanities about he only has four months left to finish the novel and doesn’t he know that they’ll both have their balls cut off if they can’t present anything complete to the company by then.

He stares at the blank page document in his laptop, the taste of coffee lingering in his lips. I’m working on it, he mutters under his breath.



Seven-ten in the morning, the owner of the diner’s son sat in his booth, wearing a pale blue shirt and a wondering face. “Where do you go?”

“What?”

“Where do you go when you leave?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t reply but sips his coffee. With the boy sitting in front of him, he curls his fingers on to the keyboard and he writes the first paragraphs of his chapter.

Drowning in his work, Kyungsoo didn’t realize that an hour already passed, and the sizzling pans and light chatter soon came to focus, along with the boy still sitting on his booth – just staring at him. Kyungsoo glances up the boy, his fingertips not disconnecting from the plastic keys.

The boy looks curious and somehow a little worried. Who wouldn’t be though, he thought. When inspiration hits Kyungsoo he blacks out and let’s his body take over, forgetting everything around him and letting his fingertips dance in a familiar rhythm he knows all too well.

The boy was still staring and Kyungsoo notices the color of his eyes and hair matching, the corners of his face were perfectly drawn, and the curves of the boy’s lips were soft but somehow chapped.

“I go back to my house.” Kyungsoo says dryly, turns off his laptop, leaving his coffee cup half empty, and the sound of ‘wait, what’s your name?’ drowning in the light chatters of pure contentment and sizzling pans.



Miraculously, Kyungsoo finishes the third to the last chapter and sends it to his editor. After he got home from the diner, Kyungsoo headed straight towards his make-shift work area to bury himself in deep thought and pure inspiration as he let his fingers dance their way in to words and then to sentences and then to paragraphs. It was times like this, when he’s out and alone in a shell of his mind, that Kyungsoo forgets how restless he feels, he forgets that no matter how much sleep or how much coffee he drinks that he will always feel tired because when Kyungsoo is writing he doesn’t only forget everything around him, he also forgets himself.

Because when he writes, Kyungsoo is nothing but a materialization of letters and words and emotions that he transfers to a blank document. Kyungsoo didn’t even notice that he had spent almost forty-eight hours straight writing.

Baekhyun calls him that night and between the tacky compliments and the final You’re a ing genius, Kyungsoo! he then feels the restlessness return.




Monday, seven-thirty in the morning, he holds his coffee cup in one hand, and the other, fingertips grazing over plastic keys. He sighs and reads the first paragraph for his second to the last chapter and his eyebrows furrow because why the hell did he write that. It was a product of forced inspiration, sleepless nights and a call from Baekhyun over the weekend which was all he better finish the novel soon because the company liked the last chapter he sent and now they want more.

Kyungsoo deletes the whole paragraph with a few clicks and he wishes he can delete other things like that as well.




“Why don’t you ever stay?”

An hour already passed and Kyungsoo was about to stand up from his booth when a familiar boy sat across him and asked him the question. Kyungsoo didn’t even need to look at the boy to see the wonder and curiosity and concern in the boy’s voice. He glances up the boy before he stands up and he was right – along with a pale pink shirt and chapped lips and Kyungsoo feels the sudden urge to fire up his laptop and lose himself in to writing.

So he does.

He sits back at the booth and types away his chapter, his fingertips bouncing up and down and sideways across plastic keys, his eyes drying to the intense light of the screen, and his chest flutters a little because this is what writing is supposed to feel like.

Kyungsoo breathes a heavy sigh as he types the last few words of the ending paragraph, a small curve makes his way up to his lips, and he doesn’t even notice that the sizzling pans and light chatters had died down hours ago, and was replaced by afternoon television and the crisp of baked pies filled the air.

He stretches his back and he feels light and refreshed even though he only slept for four hours last night and he hasn’t eaten anything since the day before yesterday. Kyungsoo looks at the document in front of him, it was a product of sheer inspiration and he wonders where it ever came from.

“Here.” As if answering his silent wondering, the boy stands in front of him, pale pink shirt, chapped lips forming a small smile, and favorite coffee cup in hand.

As Kyungsoo reaches for the cup, his fingertips brushes over the boy’s hand, and he feels the familiar flutter in his chest when writing doesn’t feel like his job but his passion.

The boy must’ve felt the flutter too because the small smile in his face was doused down by the hyper-awareness that the small skin contact induced. The boy walks away and even though the pans aren’t sizzling and the light chatters were nothing but mediocre afternoon TV, Kyungsoo leaves because he still feels the air of pure contentment and it was starting to scare him.




Kyungsoo doesn’t come back to the diner until Baekhyun called him, practically yelling over the phone that he needs to finish the last chapter and a two page author’s note because the company was pointless like that but they pay the bills so Kyungsoo better finish on time.

Seven in the morning and he sits in his usual booth and he didn’t even had to order his usual cup because it was already waiting for him with the familiar boy wearing a white shirt, chapped lips, and a friendly smile.

“I’m Jongin. You know,” The boy says, a hint of anxiety and a dash of scratched up courage filled his voice. “You’ve been coming here for a while but you still look out of place.”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t really a compliment.”

“It is for me.”

Before the boy, Jongin, could say something back, Kyungsoo had already fired up his laptop and was lost in tapping plastic keys, bright LED lights, and dictionary words. He doesn’t notice that Jongin stood up and walked to the kitchen, brows furrowed, and chapped lips chewed.



Hours passed and Kyungsoo’s fingertips were starting to feel sore and his throat was feeling dry because saliva apparently runs out. He groans because he wasn’t sure if it was inspiration running out or his stomach growling that’s stopping him from finishing the last chapter.

Three in the afternoon, he looks around the diner and he somehow feels disappointed that Jongin wasn’t there even though Kyungsoo wasn’t looking for him. He decides that it’s the second reason why he couldn’t focus on his writing, so he orders food.

The diner wasn’t filled with people like usual and Kyungsoo found it uncomfortable rather than relieving. It was just him, an old couple, and some teenagers lightly laughing about something. He waits in his seat and just looks around. Kyungsoo wonders how out of place he really looked like.

Soon enough his order came along with a smiling boy and not-so unwanted company. “This is the second time you stayed.” Jongin says with a small smile as he slides in the other side of the booth and then props his elbows on to the table, staring at Kyungsoo, eager and wondering eyes.

Kyungsoo eats his food, bluntly ignoring the boy in front of him. The air was dry and the diner was filled with the same afternoon television and Kyungsoo thinks that they should change the channel or just turn the television off.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Jongin jumps off his seat, startling the whole diner. Kyungsoo looks up at the boy, brow raised to a question.

“Wait here, ok?” Jongin says, lips forming in to a grin and Kyungsoo notices that for the first time it wasn’t chapped. The boy leaves and Kyungsoo just kept eating, trying to suppress the tickle in his stomach thinking that it was just hunger.

Jongin returns when Kyungsoo finished his meal, cup of coffee in hand, sweat on his forehead, and lips returning in to a familiar dry state. Jongin places the cup in front of Kyungsoo and sits on the other side of the booth with eager eyes telling Kyungsoo to take a sip. So he does.

Perfect. Just like the previous cups and Kyungsoo confirms that it is the bitter taste and sweet linger of the coffee that he keeps coming back to the diner. He looks at Jongin and he sees the boy with a grin on his face, tearing small cuts on his chapped lips. “You like it?”

Kyungsoo nods and feels a sudden urge to drown in text book words and night long writing. Inspiration was the first word that came to mind and he furrows his eyebrows and accused, “You make the coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Your lip is bleeding.”

“It’s because it’s dry.”

“It’s because you’re grinning like an idiot.”

Jongin pouts and Kyungsoo asks why but he wasn’t really sure what he was asking and Jongin didn’t get it either. So Jongin just told him that he noticed Kyungsoo going to the diner everyday and then leaving after an hour and then he asked Kyungsoo why but Jongin wasn’t sure about the question and Kyungsoo didn’t get it either so he just told Jongin his name and that he’s a writer from the city and he came to this town because its small and there isn’t a lot of people and he thought that it’ll be a sad place and it’ll help him write better.

“Why?”

“We should really stop asking why, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why’d you think our town was sad?”

“Because it’s small.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and looks at his favorite cliché coffee cup. He smiles half-heartedly and then Jongin spoke, “You’re small and you’re not sad.”

Jongin was chuckling at his own lame joke and Kyungsoo looked at him, he wasn’t really crying but his eyes were glassy. Jongin clenches his jaw and asked Kyungsoo why and this time Kyungsoo knew what Jongin meant but he got up and left instead.



That night, Kyungsoo finished his last chapter, spending another forty-eight hours, forgetting everything and himself, drowning in where he finds his peace and losing himself in pure emotion and perfectly organized words and then he leans back and breathes because as he types the last few words of the last chapter, he cries.

He crawls in to his bed even though it’s seven-thirty in the morning and he covers himself with blankets trying to find comfort in starched linens and sharp scents of detergents because he’s aching and sore and he knows that it’s the pain seeping out of his body.

He cries and cries and then it’s just heavy breathing because apparently tears run out too and Kyungsoo feels restless but his heaving chest and lungs gasping for air wouldn’t let him sleep.




Kyungsoo finds himself in the same booth two days after he sent the chapter to Baekhyun and the editor called to congratulate him but Kyungsoo didn’t pick up and Baekhyun knew that something was wrong.

“You look like ,” was the first thing that Baekhyun said when he approaches Kyungsoo in the booth, pale and thin and eyes drowning in dark circles. “I thought I told you to call me if something goes wrong. I’m not just your editor, Kyungsoo. I’m your friend too.”

“I know. Nothing went wrong.”

“You look like that and nothing went wrong? Kyungsoo, you have to talk to people about this, you have to let out your emotions or else you’d end up feeling and looking like .”

“I let out my emotions.”

“In writing.”

“That’s all I need.”

Baekhyun huffs out a frustrated air and looks at Kyungsoo and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for his friend, though he doesn’t show it because he knows Kyungsoo doesn’t need to be pitied. Kyungsoo needs to talk.



“Can I take your order?” Jongin asks the pair and Kyungsoo looks up at the boy and furrows his eyebrows because since when did Jongin come up to booths and take orders but Jongin just shoots him a smile with dry lips and worried eyes and Kyungsoo just shrugs, letting Baekhyun order them breakfast and scold him about eating because he looks like and he needs to eat something because he looks like he’s about to break.

And Kyungsoo sighs at the irony because how can something so badly broken break?



Kyungsoo was just looking down at his laptop, somehow lost in a -out world but not like when he’s writing. He doesn’t hear what Baekhyun was saying and he doesn’t notice the usual wonder and worry in Jongin’s face when he brought the food.

“Hello? Earth to Kyungsoo? Are you even listening?”

Kyungsoo looks at his friend and then at the plate in front of him and he eats, thinking that it was what Baekhyun was blabbing about. Getting food in his stomach slowly took him out of the world he was in. Kyungsoo’s suddenly aware that it’s eight in the morning and the diner is filled with the same scent of nostalgia and crisp taste of happiness. Kyungsoo feels like he’s going to throw up.

“I said, do you know that guy? He keeps looking at you and he looks worried.” Baekhyun asks the second time, out of sheer curiosity and nosiness, pointing his brow to the boy wearing a pale blue shirt across the diner, not-so discreetly looking over their booth.

Kyungsoo looks around the room and the sickening nostalgia fabricates in his stomach as he looks for the boy Baekhyun was pointing at. “Jongin,” he says and Baekhyun asked again if Kyungsoo knows him and Kyungsoo nodded. Baekhyun asked him another question but Kyungsoo didn’t hear it because he was lost again, not in to his -out world but in deep thought as to why the sickening nostalgia faded away when he caught Jongin’s eyes.




Baekhyun had left because Kyungsoo insisted that he already felt better and he should start on his pointlessly long author’s note and he wouldn’t be able to focus on that if Baekhyun was around. So with a disapproving sigh because he knows Kyungsoo was lying to his face and repetitive reminders of You can call me anytime you feel like and Pick up your phone because what if I was calling for something important Baekhyun rode the train back to the city.



Kyungsoo wasn’t lying to Baekhyun, he did feel better. A little better, at least. Maybe it was because he had eaten the day before and now he’s taking a shower, scrubbing away the dirt and pain and everything in between, that he feels a little lighter.




“Why?”

“I thought you said we shouldn’t ask why anymore. You said it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one that said it.”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo says dryly and then Jongin laughs, drowning out everything around them and Kyungsoo forgets everything else but this time he doesn’t forget himself because after so long Kyungsoo hears himself laughing as well.

Jongin’s brows shoot up because Kyungsoo’s laugh had so much melody and he couldn’t help but ask if Kyungsoo sings. Kyungsoo laughs again and then says yes, he tells Jongin that he used to sing when he was in elementary up until middle school but then his real passion called to him when he was in high school.

“Writing novels?”

“Composing songs.”

“Not much of a difference.”

“I don’t feel sad when composing.”

It’s five in the afternoon and streaks of orange spears through the windows of the diner, the perfect contrast of colors surrounding them, the mediocre sounds of afternoon television dies down and Jongin reaches for Kyungsoo’s hand because he can see the sadness in the other’s eyes. “We really don’t make any sense when we talk.”

Kyungsoo laughs again, holding Jongin’s hand tighter and soon his melodic laugh turns into a different tune and Jongin notices the glisten streaming down Kyungsoo’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” And neither of them was sure who said it because Kyungsoo was muffling his cries on Jongin’s shirt and Jongin was buried in Kyungsoo’s hair, breathing in deep and losing himself in the scent of expensive breeze and sunshine.




It’s seven-thirty in the morning and Kyungsoo is drinking his favorite coffee despite it not being in his favorite cup. He’s slouched in front of a wooden desk and he hears fingertips tapping along plastic keys and Jongin complaining about Kyungsoo’s apartment not having enough windows and how can Kyungsoo smell like breeze and sunshine if he doesn’t really go out much.

Kyungsoo defends himself that he does go out but he really needs to finish this first so Jongin should shut up because it’s not easy to write a pointlessly long author’s note.

Jongin laughs and all concentration leaves because Kyungsoo laughs too. They go to the kitchen because Jongin says he’s hungry and Kyungsoo can cook a good plate of omelet.

Sitting next to each other on plastic chairs, leaning over an old plastic table, they share a plate because Kyungsoo doesn’t want to wash two dishes and Jongin says they should just share a fork too because it would be silly to have one plate and two forks and then Kyungsoo’s heart flutters.




Jongin finds out that Kyungsoo lived in this town a couple of years ago and went to the city to pursue his studies and only came back to write. Jongin asks Kyungsoo what he’s writing about and he tells Jongin that it’s a memoir for his parents, that his parents were writers and that they were some kind of legend in the company they worked at and Kyungsoo was their only son.

Then Kyungsoo cries because he remembers when he was in class and the dean called him to his office to tell him that his parents had been in an accident. He remembers walking in the hallways of the hospital to see his parents strapped up, chests lifted up and then down by a machine, keeping them in a technically alive state. He remembers that he had to talk to a doctor about making a decision. He remembers that he had to be the one to turn off the machine and by then he’s nothing but heavy breathing and violent shaking and Jongin wraps his arms tightly around Kyungsoo, nuzzling in his hair, breathing in the breeze and sunshine, saying “It’s okay, hyung. I’m here” over and over.




Kyungsoo still doesn’t get enough sleep and he only eats when he really has to but the color in his lips gradually returns and the circles around his eyes gradually fades. He stays in the diner to work on his author’s note and the sizzling pans and light chatter doesn’t bother him anymore, the nostalgia was still sickening but it’s okay because after an hour Jongin gets to sit with him.

He finds out that Jongin’s a dropped out community college student and that he’s working at the diner to earn money and his parents’ trust so he can go to the city to pursue his real passion.
“I want to dance, hyung.” Jongin says with a grin, his forehead sweaty, and his lips dry because the steam from the brewer was bearable but it’s still hot.

“Then dance.” Kyungsoo replies with a teasing tone and Jongin chuckles, telling Kyungsoo that he doesn’t want to dance now but he would be happy to dance for the rest of his life. Kyungsoo smiles because the passion in Jongin’s voice is all too familiar to him. “I want to compose songs again.”

“Then compose.” And then Kyungsoo hears Jongin’s laugh and everything else is forgotten, his author’s note, the afternoon buzzes, and even the heaving pain in his chest, concealed by the familiar flutters.



“I’m scared, Jongin.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to finish the memoir.”

“Why?”

“I want them to stay.”

“You’re not really good at answering why, hyung.”

Kyungsoo laughs but Jongin can tell that he’s crying again, so he reaches for Kyungsoo’s hand and squeezes it and he feels Kyungsoo squeeze back. They’re walking around the park after Jongin’s shift at the diner and its dark aside from the yellow street lights shading the white shirt Jongin was wearing and letting Kyungsoo’s cheeks glisten with tears.



Kyungsoo wakes up because of a phone call and even before he answers it he can already hear Baekhyun ranting about it’s already been a month so why hasn’t he sent him the author’s note yet and why the heck would the author’s note take a whole month to write. So Kyungsoo decides to not answer the phone, only to have someone banging on his door and Kyungsoo’s thinking You have got to be ing kidding, Byun Baekhyun but he opens the door anyway.

To Baekhyun’s surprise, Kyungsoo didn’t look like . He actually looked better than the last time he saw him. He’s starting to fill the hollows of his cheeks and Kyungsoo wasn’t abnormally pale like before. “You look..”

“Like ?”

“No, , you look good.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up. So, where is it?”

“What?”

“The author’s note, where is it?”

“It’s not finished.”



Baekhyun’s certain that Kyungsoo is lying to his face again when he tells him that the author’s note is not finished, he’s known Kyungsoo for too long and knows that he’s a genius in whatever form of writing. So, Baekhyun wonders why the hell does Kyungsoo want to stall but then he sees the boy from before and the way he hands Kyungsoo a cup of coffee and the way Kyungsoo lights up when their hands brushes lightly and then he knows.

“Are you together with that kid?”

“No.”

“But you like him?”

Kyungsoo didn’t say anything, he just took a sip of his coffee and stared outside the glass window and Baekhyun took it as a yes.

“You can stay here, you know?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You don’t have to leave the kid when you finish the novel. You can stay here with him if that’s what you want.”

“It’s a memoir, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo corrects him for the first time. “And that’s not why I don’t want to finish it.”

“Then why?”

“I’m not very good at answering why.”



It’s been a week and Baekhyun found out that the author’s note was already finished except for the author’s signature at the lower right of the last page. Baekhyun was past pestering and threatening Kyungsoo because it doesn’t really work and apparently Kyungsoo doesn’t care if he gets paid or not but Baekhyun does so he’s left with no other choice but to beg. “Just sign it, Kyungsoo. Please, for the love of my job, please sign it.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and stirs the chopped vegetables in the pan and holds his spatula tighter. “Baekhyun, don’t do this now.” He sighs. “I’ll sign it when I’m ready.”

But Baekhyun doesn’t notice the scrunched up hurt in Kyungsoo’s eyes and the way Kyungsoo’s chest started to heave air slower and the biting pain Kyungsoo felt. “Soo! It’s just a signature! Don’t be so ing dramatic!”

“No! You don’t understand!” And Kyungsoo slams the spatula down on the counter, turns off the heat, and storms out of the kitchen. He curls up in his bed and wraps himself in starched linens and flowery pillows and he’s nothing but swollen eyes and red nose when Baekhyun knocks in his bedroom door.

“Soo.. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.. I didn’t mean to yell.”

But Kyungsoo doesn’t really hear him because he’s lost in tears and heavy breaths and silent wishes that his parents would be the one knocking on the door and telling him that it’ll be okay Soo, everything will be okay. The blanket balls up in his hands tighter and warmer and somehow wet. Baekhyun is still knocking on his bedroom door but he can’t really hear him over the heaving for air and gasping for anything because the room suddenly felt small and the linens were suddenly suffocating him. He tries to move, get up, and call for help but he can’t. Kyungsoo thinks it’s the pain that’s numbing him, making his fingertips feel cold and his toes curl. His eyes are swollen and red and blurry but he sees the door blasting open and a figure running towards him, running fingers through his hair, shaking him and telling him, “Wake up, hyung! You gotta stay awake! We’ll take you to the hospital but you have to stay awake!”

Kyungsoo mumbles and tells Jongin that Baekhyun doesn’t understand, that nobody really understand, that it’s pointless to even explain but all Jongin hears is Kyungsoo’s sobs and teeth quivering and shattered “I want them to stay. Please stay, Jongin.”




“He has IDA - a type of Anemia, nothing too serious if taken care of properly. I’m guessing he’s not eating right and not getting much sleep?” Baekhyun and Jongin nod at the doctor wearing jeans, a black polo, white coat and topped off with a stethoscope dangling over his shoulders. The room is quiet except for Kyungsoo’s heavy breaths even in his sleep.

“He should stay at least for another twenty-four hours so we can check on him but otherwise he’s fine. He had a panic attack and it’s pretty bad on a count of his health. He doesn’t have records here but I’m guessing he’s under clinical depression?”

This time, only Baekhyun nods and Jongin gapes at the two of them, mouth open and words failing as he hears the conversation going. “Is he taking anything for it?”

“He- uhm- He used to. He stopped a few months ago, he said he doesn’t need them anymore.”

“I suggest he should be back on them. Have him take it once a week for two months, his usual dose. And he should take vitamins, too.”

“Okay, thank you.”

And Jongin nods as the doctor exits the room, Kyungsoo’s heavy breathing and the hum of the air conditioning unit stays. “Why did he stop taking them?” was all Jongin could say, lips quivering, hand over Kyungsoo’s, cold and sweaty.

Baekhyun was patting his back, telling him that Kyungsoo stopped because the writer said he doesn’t feel as sad anymore since he came here. But Jongin shakes his head because he had heard Kyungsoo cry, he had felt Kyungsoo shiver, and he had seen Kyungsoo’s heart break. Baekhyun tells Jongin that Kyungsoo will be okay, that he’s a tough cookie and he doesn’t even used to cry. That Kyungsoo was actually the strong one and that Baekhyun was the crybaby but now Kyungsoo’s always crying and..

And Baekhyun stops because he’s already choking on his tears, he leaves and says sorry on his way out. Jongin didn’t need to ask because he knows Baekhyun will be back tomorrow.

Kyungsoo still breathes heavily, eyes closed, and Jongin grips his hands tighter, running his finger over Kyungsoo’s forehead and whispering, “I’ll stay, hyung. I’ll stay with you.”




“Do you know why monkeys are always happy?”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow over tired, swollen eyes. He was awake for the second time today and Jongin is thankful that this second time isn’t violent shaking and crying and screaming They don’t understand, Jongin! Nobody understands!

“Because they eat bananas.” Jongin chuckles but Kyungsoo doesn’t get it so he asks why but then Jongin doesn’t know how to explain either and then Kyungsoo chuckles, dark circles hallowing, pale lips turning to a half loop, and with the look from Jongin’s face he half-expected for him to ask why but what Jongin says is, “I love you.”

Kyungsoo’s heart flutters and his fingertips itch for plastic keys and for rhythm that makes sense but his hands fall on Jongin’s cheeks and the rhythm is Jongin’s soft hums as he feels Kyungsoo’s cold and sweaty palms over his flushed face. They fall silent for a while, Kyungsoo’s hands cupping Jongin’s face and Jongin humming a tune Kyungsoo was familiar with but doesn’t really know.

The linens were overly-starched and the pillows were dry and flat and they don’t know how they got in to that position but Kyungsoo was leaning on his side, staring at Jongin’s pale blue shirt and Jongin was drawing circles over Kyungsoo’s hair, nobody had said anything after Jongin’s confession, and they lie there, perfectly peaceful. A peace that would send Kyungsoo in to blinding inspiration and pour out all his emotions in writing every word like his life depended on it because it honestly feels like it does.

And in his head he feels like he’s going to explode but the soft flutters in his heart as he hears Jongin humming tells him otherwise. Kyungsoo knows Jongin is waiting.

“I don’t think I can love you, Jongin. I’m too broken.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I’ll love you.”



It’s been a week and after a few extra nights stay at the hospital, because even though his health was getting better his sudden panic attacks haven’t lessened, Kyungsoo is back at his apartment that had too few windows. He unlocks the door and Jongin’s a step behind him, clutching a bag under his arm and gripping on two with both his hands.

“I could help you, you know?”

“It’s okay, hyung. I can handle it.”

“Why’d you have to bring so many of my stuff, anyway? It’s not like I had to stay there for long.”
“These aren’t all yours.”

Kyungsoo then remembers that Jongin almost never left his side, that he would sleep in to Jongin’s humming and silent promises of I’ll just get an extra shirt, hyung. But I’ll be back when you wake up. Promise. He remembers waking up to the warmth on his side and Jongin’s soft snores. And he remembers the wave of emotions he felt each time.

The apartment smelled like old wood even though almost all of Kyungsoo’s stuff was made of plastic. The floor creeks as they take a step in to the living area and Jongin drops the bags along with his tired limbs on to the floor. Kyungsoo just stares at him for a while. “You don’t have to do this, Jongin. You don’t have to take care of me.. You don’t have to love me.”

Jongin is lying atop the bags and he’s just breathing there but Kyungsoo thinks he looks too perfect. He has his eyes closed and Kyungsoo can’t see the usual telltale in the younger’s eyes. Chest up and then down, as if catching his breath and after a few moments Jongin finally opens his eyes. “I’m tired, hyung. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“Jongin.”

“You should rest too.”

“Jongin-”

“I’ll just order take out later.”

“Jong-”

“Hyung, please! Don’t push me away. I love you and I don’t care if you’re too broken! I’ll fix you! Or I’ll just ing break myself if I have to! Just.. just to be with you. Just so you won’t feel alone, hyung. I don’t want you to feel alone.” Jongin’s voice is almost a whisper but Kyungsoo hears him all too loudly.

Kyungsoo feels the familiar wave of emotions, heavy and sickening. It scares him how much he feels so deeply attached to Jongin. To him, Jongin is the pure contentment and blinding inspiration his life revolves around and it scares him because if he lets himself fall and somewhere between the love and the confusion, Jongin might leave and he doesn’t think he can take any more pain.

He clenches his fists and buries his nails in his palms, tears and words failing. Kyungsoo tries to say sorry, that he’s doing this for Jongin too, that even though they both fit perfectly in each other’s arms, it would be best if Jongin found someone else to love. Because even though Kyungsoo’s back on his medications and the panic attacks are starting to die down, Kyungsoo is still scared. He will always be scared.

Kyungsoo just stands there while Jongin tries to subtly wipe his own tears and starts unpacking the bags.



After a few hours spent in his world, Kyungsoo steps out of the dimness of his room and in to the fluorescent glow of the living area, he sees Jongin sitting on his sofa, laughing half-heartedly at some Pororo cartoon. He steps in to the room silently but the tension was all too loud. Jongin sees him and turns down the television’s volume. “Are you feeling okay, hyung? Hungry?”

“I’m sorry, Jongin.”

“Hyung-”

“Listen. I’m scared, Jongin. I’ve only loved two people in this world, my parents. They were all that I had. I don’t care for the money, the fame, or the titles. I studied hard so I can make them proud. I sang songs so I can make them feel happy. But now they’re gone. An accident, Jongin, it only took a wrong swerve of another person’s car to take them away from me, to make me lose all that I cared for and loved. I thought I was just going to drown in sorrow for the rest of my life but then you come along..”

He breathes out, heavy, letting himself fall. “..and now I’m in love with you. But I’m still scared, Jongin. I think I’ll always be afraid.”

They stand in the silence for a while, a glow of the ending credits of the cartoon reflected on the glass table in between the television and the sofa. Jongin takes a step closer towards Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo cries out his fears. It takes Jongin just another step to wrap Kyungsoo in his arms and whisper that he’ll stay, he’ll stay because he promised. And because he loves him.




“Why?”

Kyungsoo’s wrapped in soft fabrics and lean muscles, familiar hums and low tones. He asks Jongin the question but neither of them really understands it, so Jongin just leans in for another kiss. Soft lips against another, fingertips dancing to a slow rhythm against bare skin, pure contentment and fluttering hearts, blinding inspiration and silent promises of staying forever.




Epilogue

Baekhyun calls him up sometime around winter break about the memoir being finally published; his parents’ fans and followers praising how Kyungsoo portrayed the artistic perfection that his parents’ had and publishing companies calling up Baekhyun to buy rights to publish for Kyungsoo’s next big hit. “They love you, Soo. What do you think? Up for another writing job?”

“No thanks, Baek. I only took the job because it’s for my parents. I love them but I don’t like writing.”

“Okay. I’ll just turn them down gently. I’ll see you next week, Soo? Bring Jongin, okay? That kid still owes me from last time!”

“Hey! I didn’t lose that bet!”

“Alright, Baek. I’ll see you.”






“Why?”

“What?”

“Why?”

“What are you even asking?”

“Did you write about me in your parents’ memoir?”

The diner was a little less crowded sometime during the winter break. The air was a little dry because of the indoor heater but the tables and seats were still cold enough. Kyungsoo has his favorite cup of coffee in hand and Jongin’s wearing his usual wondering face, chapped lips.

“I only put you in the author’s note.”

“Yeah, but still.. Why?”

“Hmmm.”

“What? Hyung, you’re really not good at answering-”

“I didn’t exactly write you down, but I was thinking about you when I wrote that closing statement. Now if you’re going to ask why-”

“No. I don’t need to ask why. I love you.”

“Good. I love you, too.”




In between the broken hearts and broken promises, there will always be someone who will save you from all the pain. Someone to show you hope and make you smile, make you feel scared yet safe in their arms.

Do Kyungsoo





a/n: aaaaaand, yeah. idk how to explain myself.