Anyang High School of Arts, 3^rd of November 2010, Backyard, 12:17

 

There was a fine line between hate and love. They were separated by thin layer of light timbre and bariton. But he was certain on spilling his furious to Kim Jongin after a massive star's collision. The commotion dipped black and  blue to one's heart, hard. Previous pink morphed to ugly swollen knot that felt jelly and wane when he touched it. His greasy fingertips even slipped on the thin surface because really Baekhyun looked a lot smaller and vulnerable. He could see the latter's taste buds amassed; toe-nails frozen; impulses numb. Sleepless nights consumed his tiny figure; cheeks sunken; lips chapped; eyes reddened; hair tangled here and there; white trouser tainted with colorless water. Cold soil underneath was the only supporter, just two thin sleeves being his pillow. And he burried his face between blurry and clear.

Thin lips chanted those forbidden syllables inbetween why and how. Endless wonder danced through the stark windless outdoor, roaming through every layer of molecules, dropping its temperature to the lowest degree. It's cold—so...so cold. All the warmth had left cherry petals; huge trees went bald, not even a single puzzle of orange to lighten up. Not a bit. No one would dare peeking through the slightly-opened-door because every corner was dark; blinded. Yet his ears perked to the melodious sobs; those were constant but every sharp intake made his heart constricted with discomfort. Chanyeol could not help but shivered underneath.

It was early winter, indeed. Snow buds knocked his doors earlier. They supposed to ring joyous bell because white christmas would always be awaited. Jingle from pops and ballads were sold out already, signing the increasing spirit as winter welcomed them ahead. He remembered Kyungsoo explained a jazz through his electric Casio and sang along the White Christmas with Michael Bublè's accent at the back of his chords. On the table were rice cakes with sticky cinnamon as the prize. It should have been that warm. But no. What he saw before him was the emptiest decoration for celebration—empty psyche. This is sick.

The loved one be damned.

The injury seems worse than I thought it would be,

The pain seems to dig deeper than I thought it would,

In the countless nights I spent resenting you,

It feels like I'm in hell

"What did I do wrong..."

He heard footsteps, yet not the one he desired to listen. A hand caressed those wild wine strands, yet not the one which usually sent him flying. Some white smog collided with the cold outside, yet not the one his eyes always dearly caught. Very long torso engulfed him securely, yet not the one he devoured to touch. And no, not also a deep bass chord that laced with so much warm, so much care, so much sincere—not this. He did not want this. 

The more their bodies pressed against each other, the more those pains seeped through his skin, poisoning his veins, exploding his cells. The more the taller male trapped him in his embrace, the more he broke into pieces, scattered aimlessly, abandoned on nonchalant floor. The more Chanyeol slipped his fingers alongside his ribcage and backside, the more he burried his face on the board chest. The more he surrendered. The more he lost.

Please just stay by my side, please remain here,

Don't let go of my hands as you're holding it in yours,

If this takes you a step further from me,

All I have to do is take a step closer, isn't it?

"Why...why...why..."

Why, indeed. He wanted to scream it in front of Kyungsoo too. Those eyes that remained steady, those timbre that sounded voiceless, those secret smile that reeked of 'okay', those words that soothed greatly. Were they reassurement? Were they hypocrite? Were they well-trained? Were they meant to be spoken? Were they fake? They were, weren't they?

He knew, by now, that he had lost big time. Every single thing he did was not worth it on this battlefield. In vain, in vain, in vain. Those three years meant nothing. Absolute nothing. Reality hit him hard and he finally woke up from his imagination. He did not expect that time actually played 'about it'. Baekhyun reprimanded him before, he played the analogy and tried to trigger his logic. He was too naïve, too dense, too blinded. The first coffee they shared, the first Bethoveen he taught, the first show they did, the first map-clip he gave, the first song they compossed, the first dugun he felt, the first blush he wore, the first shy he scratched at the back of his neck....those firsts—what are those?

But wait, since when? Since when did Kyungsoo and Jongin know each other?

There were far too many questions that demanded to be answered. The two heartbreaker had a very long parchment to be explained. But Chanyeol decided that time should be the first concern. He might not understand the last track, but he could learn the first bar. He could trace their history and that eventually would lead him to the biggest point : how and why.

A thousand times in a day,

Your face repeatedly appears in my thoughts,

The sharp words you said to me,

Those empty eyes, that cold expression.

You're quite a pretty person, aren't you?

You're quite a pretty person, aren't you?

Please don't do this to me,

You know me well enough, don't you?

Turquoise passed white clouds. Winter was always darker. Black birds flew up high even in the middle of the day. Sun hid behind wind. Then it turned cyan, a shade darker, a shade darker, a little more darker. There Park Chanyeol pulled off his glasses, tore his sheets, unskin his skull. A piece of his heart was still unwilling to breaktrough. But he could not be dumb forever. He did not want to be idiot, he did not want to eat raw and bare.

He wanted to collect the knowledge. He wanted to piece back the puzzles. He wanted to know. He needed to know everything.

Everything.

"Jongin....Jongin....don't go...don't go, Jongin...I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Stop, stop right there. Stop all these bulls. Stop all these sugar-coated poem, stop all these frustration, stop all these misery, stop all these lies.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

"Enough! Baekhyun, stop."

Knitted fingers hung stiffly beside his thighs. He bent down once and straightened up in a snap. Red eyes mirrored the ones that framed on Baekhyun. His heart constricted in agony; from Kyungsoo, from Baekhyun too. His emotions roared to life, dirtying his fair composure and tough persona. He was sensitive at heart too. His heart was just as pure. His sacrifice was just as valuable. His kindness was just as delicate. And it hurt. It hurt too to be betrayed. It hurt too to be fooled. It hurt. Hurt. Hurt. They did not only visit but carved big scars with blue and purple with red marks inbetween. They tortured his nature, stole his blinding flashflight, broke his jumpy spirit. It was new, it was fresh, it was...Chanyeol could not comprehend it at all. When he thought writing songs was giddy; when he thought running eleven blocks to catch kimchi spaghetti was electric; when he thought....when he thought.....

Baekhyun grasped Chanyeol's balled palms desperately. His head kept repeating broken promises; his slender fingers kept craving for tan skin; his heart kept screaming Jongin, Jongin, Jongin! The way he conversed with black flags, they way he danced on ivory and wooden floor, the way he mimicked veteran comedian, the way he raced him to seek his grandather's antique. The way he spelled his name, the way he kissed, the way he touched, the way he stared. The way he loved me. 

He hated to put it all in past tense. He hated to let it passby at the back of his head. He hated to stumble backwards and the door shut close. Again, like that time. Trapped, caged, isolated. But this time was harder, harsher, rude. He could not stand it. Sleepless night and broken A major were frightening he did not want to keep in touch. At least not alone. He needed help. He needed companion. He needed someone. He needed Chanyeol.

He needed Chanyeol and Chanyeol needed him, too.

"I need you...I need you...Chanyeol....I need you. Please don't leave me, please....please help me...help me..."

 

So stop. Stop crying. Stop begging. Stop being a fool.

 

"I will, Baek. I will help you. I won't leave you. I won't."

 

I promise.

***

 

Anyang High School of Arts, 3^rd of November 2010, Rooftop, 14:42

 

Everything messed up.

Their harmony did not only cross path; they collided. They crashed so hard that they melt to one another. Fingers intertwined, limbs grazed ever so slightly, but lips tangled so close, so inmate. Push, pull, grasp, release. Encircle, buckle off, tackle, fall, stick, unfreeze, stop. Two palms halted toned-chest that was covered in cotton. Inbetween strong and weak; harsh and pity; hate and love, he hummed his prelude. He craned his neck aside, although eyes open wide and lips zipped tight. Legs trapped inbetween a pair of strong thights, barerly carried any strength to refuse; although his mind wailed, begged, screamed, roared that it was a failure. He wanted to disappear. He needed to. But his upper arms gave up and slid effortlessly down the rough torso—rough but warm. Lingered around his side-bones were eyes of concern, will, want. Long fingers encircled petite waist; so small, so tiny, so....tough. A little moment before then the younger boy brushed his skin against milky cheek. Breath, beat, cold, warm....

Kyungsoo shot up. The burnt smell finally tickled two's nostrils and prang! shattered in front of his eyes. His insides trembled clamorously, weakening his skull; ghostbumps. He shuddered physically because he had never been this . His songs finally had stories; his sheets were full of shadow grey and blackened pressure; his bariton chirped a meaning. People no longer believed his vibe. His shield was destroyed. Big time. His whle body went rigid as realization slapped him hard. Chanyeol knows me.

Don't turn away from me,

Look into my eyes

Slight move on upper neck and downfloor chin, the taller boy stared deeper into dark orbs. They were glistening with evident fears and more fear. A physical respond that even him never caught open-handed. The older male was torn, torn in his all, in his whole. His masqurade dismissed, his hardened lips flipped back, his face fell, he was a mess. He was a total mess. For a blink of eye, Kyungsoo was complete constellation of emotion. No vague smile, no sharp words, no smart persona, no desired image. None. The table flipped back and he could only stare at the bleeding on his ivories. He did not take care of the fallen dough or clean up some outdated leftover. He was disoriented. He was a basis. He was the silent; but his silent surrender explicitely of pure weakness. Jongin somehow felt an alarming message.

"Kyungsoo—"

Trust me, Kyungsoo.

But to me it was so difficult

From the beginning 

We had a love

That shouldn't have been started.

"No."

I'm afraid, Jongin.

"Please Kyungsoo, please trust me."

Don't give up.

You must not disappear from my life

Know that you are my light.

"I don't want to."

I'm scared of everything.

Don't be scared.

Resist. Resist. Resist! Refusal. Refusal. Refusal! What was a mere second of truth? Why did it return? How could he mask back his scars that fast? Why couldn't he welcome his agony? Why couldn't he look after his misery? Why couldn't he subside his guilt? Why did he look so down to himself? Why? Why? Why?!

Kim Jongin yanked a pair of sleeve harshly. Eyes barerly twice as big as Kyungsoo but he was utterly unpleasent. His cheeks flushed scarlett of anger, glare, indignant, and any other adjectives related. But an unwelcomed emotion stood out at the tip of his throat : fright. He was beyond scared for the other boy. His heart was dreading to its aorta, afraid of loosing a baby's breath in a sea of thorny rose. He lowered his sonata in order to catch the falling pendant.  Because that's his diamond, his true diamond. He slid his long fingers between mild black strands that smelt of sweet lily. He cupped pink full lips that tasted like vanilla. He grasped blue blazer that reeked of calm wind. He pulled a psyche that delivered aghast. He craved a soul that saved him.

Under starry sky he contemplated between Chaconne and Indigo. Two melodious lullaby that spoke opposite essay to one another. But turned out both were aimless and Kyungsoo was a Farewell under hidden mistletoe. It was even more worrying. Jongin knew Kyungsoo was the epitome of facade. Jongin knew that Kyungsoo was bitter candy. Jongin knew Kyungsoo was three stories sadder than the scattered sunbeams. Jongin knew Kyungsoo was martyr. But Jongin wouldn't want to know if they never crossed path. If Kyungsoo would still go on salty goo with bare foot and old cuts. If Kyungsoo would still taste nothing on his own dish. If Kyungsoo would still glance dreamy on his sheets. If Kyungsoo would still move his head aside and cry in silent.

If he himself would find his way back.

Because they were the victim of ruthless society and deceit business. Egocentric and cosumerism. Glory of image and greediness. Both were trapped in facade that none of them joined voluntarily. They were pushed and fell freely without readiness.

Jongin would never ever release Kyungsoo. He vowed to never leave.

If you leave, you take away my whole world,

Don't forget that it will all disappear.

Tears escaped uncontrollably, downpouring through pale cheeks that stiffened with still flawless lines. Eyes shut tightly, forming pointed wrinkle at the edge of his beautiful eyes. Teeth digged inner flesh to red, that eventually soaked the lips with smell of drenched iron. Nonetheless, even his cry was voiceless. No sobs, no wails, no chokes. Still—too silent. But those represented the burried pain that had been weighing him since his name appeared in black on white. His color turned gloomy blue; just a dot under zillion stars covered by milkyway. For once he was so tiny, so weak, so human. For once he acknowledged his hardship. For once he recognized his distress. For once he unleashed his intricacy. 

For once...

Lips crashed deeper. Limbs pressed closer. Legs tangled tighter. A pair of arms encircled glorious piano, pulling magnificent compossition, knotting graceful soul, living a faraway dream. Jongin smelt like flame; reeked of despise and questions. He was not clueless, no he was smart. He was tricked, yes he had lost everything. But he was true to himself and that was enough to win all battlefield. By win was to shelter every pearl inside his silk sack that Kyungsoo felt really safe being in his embrace. That it was okay swinging his body aimlessly; no peculiar background; no pressure. Just fun. Just desire. Just passion. It was right to fill his ears with classic; to slip his fingers on keys; to scratch his pencils more than five bars a week; to simply pursue what he's meant to be.

To smile, to pout; 

to laugh, to cry;

to tease, to whine;

to be pleased, to be angry;

to be strong and to be weak;

to feel.

It was okay to be Do Kyungsoo. Just Do Kyungsoo.

I'm scared, Jongin.

I want to breath from your love.

"It's fine, Kyungsoo. It's okay."

Have faith in yourself, Kyungsoo.

 

I'm scared.

***

 

---

Author's note :

Two chapters updated! Sorry this chapter is also short. But this one is more emotional than the others, I guess. I kinda feel heavy after writing this. I hope the emotions reach to you guys and you can get the message as well. This chapter is my favorite and I finished this 'till its icing for one full day =))

Listen to this for Chanbaek's section :

안아줘 : https://youtu.be/JzociagwnBw?list=PLUKj1okNWHRNdqUTwpr0-xfckivxBb-J0

Listen to this for Kaisoo's section :

Reason (Ost Endless Love) : https://youtu.be/xGMg0SaEo0k

And I need your opinion, please! Should I mark this as M-rated? I'm afraid it's heavy in content :s please share your thoughts!

Subscribe and comment juseyo! I need your feedback so the upcoming chapters will be better and can fulfill your needs :))

Hope you enjoyed this! See you on the next chapter! Anyeong~!

J<3

 

Songs :

White Christmas : https://youtu.be/btf3506ERbY

Chaconne : https://youtu.be/nLCLd1zXrtw

Indigo : https://youtu.be/9dY-LSkGO5I

Farewell : https://youtu.be/Ma92QB1NbZo