Forgotten White Noise

JinJin not so gracefully awakes, loudly coughing as he gasps out well needed air and oxygen. His opening eyes instantly become assaulted by the nauseating brightness of the room, stinging as the illuminating yellow hue grows stronger. He sluggishly squints to ease the onslaught of pain suddenly radiating throughout his entire core. His pounding head is pulsating with rippling anger and boiling in a feverish temperature. Clearly resenting him for what has willingly been done to his precious reservoir and the distant sick feeling foaming around his stomach was in no way helping. In no way making the situation any better.  

Yup, this was the precise reason he had stopped partying and drinking, the ominous little reminder that failed. You can drink from the devil’s cup but the consequences were the price to be paid and in his case, one hell of a hangover. He was getting too old for this , he wasn’t a fresh faced eighteen-year-old anymore. He’s 22 now, he can’t drink like it’s nothing and expect to be okay the next day when it never worked out that way before. He has always had the tendency to consume more alcohol then he could personally withstand and that’s why he is so sick. He’s sick because he is an idiot and it’s all his fault.

JinJin brings his hands up to his aching head, running his cool fingers through his oily blonde hair and massages his scalp to bring comfort to his spinning vision. It almost feels as if he’s still drunk, still whirling in a feigned utopia and something feels wrong.

No, something is wrong.   

His eyes widen in realization, a very cruel blood curdling realization. Something is without a doubt not right and it’s not just the ceiling that’s not the top bunk he should be seeing, telling him that. He abruptly sits up, effectively knocking the clinging sleep out of him and draws his knees to his chest in an attempt not to vomit. He’s fully awake now and the buckling fear is starting to kick in like an earth-shattering realism. Starting to overflow his thoughts with terrible conclusions and outlandish ideas.

Where the hell is he?

He doesn’t have a clue as to where he is and even worse, what has transpired in his drunken unpredictable haze. The memories of last night are cutting in and out like reals of broken tape. Leaving spots of black fuzz on already painted pictures. He remembers bits and pieces, but not enough to fully grasp much to anything and trying to string dead ends together to form blank meanings is only causing him to panic more. To fill those hollow spaces with make belief situations that he hopes are not true, because he does not want to believe he’s done those revolting things. Doesn’t want to listen to his inner self that’s calling him dirty names and loading his head with blatant lies about what has taken place, what he hopes hasn’t taken place because he's incompetent when it comes to dealing with the consequences of his reckless actions. He would rather ignore everything all together then forced to admit to being a complete mess and in the wrong. Then admit to whatever this is.

But, he does know one thing though. He is indeed seated in the centre of a large bed, silk sheets and white blankets bunching around him.

JinJin lays his forehead flat against his sheet covered bent knees.

Something is incorrect, not adding up and the only thing he really wants to do is find MJ. He feels extremely out of place, out of routine and that alone makes him want to throw up more then the slushing of alcohol that is still clouding his system. He needs MJ to straighten him out, to bring him back to normality and tell him everything will be all right, when it’s clearly not going to be. He’s scared because he doesn’t know what to do, or what to expect and more importantly what to plan for. He wishes he had never gone to that stupid party. Never accepted the offer to eagerly take part in something he knew would only force him into submission over his very own immobilizing disorders.

Who is he trying to fool?

He knew this would happen and he can’t do it, can’t be here. He’s been in this situation before and last time he had ended up crying in a back lane, struggling to keep himself together. He can not relive that, it was terrible and traumatizing. Something that still makes his limbs numb and heart pump with frightening distress and it’s all coming back to him. He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his nerves before this borderline anxiety attack manifests into something bigger and scarier. Something he doesn’t have the right means to control.     

What had he gotten himself into last night, correction what had MJ gotten him into?  

JinJin brings his hands away from kneading his head to wipe at his blurry eyes and are those bruises? He quickly looks at his shaking discoloured wrists and rolls his arms watching as the contrasting purple wraps perfectly around. He winces only a little at the burn and light chaffing left as evident proof of nothing, because he can’t seem to remember.

He is a mess.

He doesn’t need a mirror to picture his blonde looks askew and pointing in multiple direction on top of his head. Doesn’t need someone to tell him he’s out of his mind and stupid, because he already knows.

JinJin’s breath hitches as he shakily releases air he hadn’t noticed he was unconsciously holding. Did he …? He can’t deduce why he’s questioning this, but he’s curious and wants to fathom the actuality of his actions. The truth. His backside’s not hurting with that familiar yet distant burn, which meant he hadn’t been the one to take it. Well at least he didn’t feel like he had.  He grips the white fabric of the fleece and carefully lifts the blanket. He quickly sighs in either relief, or disappointment. He’s not too sure what he wants anymore. Did he want something to happen last night?

Of course he did.

To his surprise, he is still in fact wearing his ugly boxers which means it is safe to say he hadn’t fooled around. He pulls at the collar of the loose, slightly oversized plain white shirt. Now this was new and one hundred percent not his.

JinJin’s stuck speechless, his mind in a fog of confusion and varying misconceptions. The only thing he remembers is siting in the kitchen with Donghyuk. Was this Donghyuk’s room? He looks around the innocently decorated cream coloured room. It’s plain, almost too plain and JinJin’s having a hard time believing this belongs to anyone but an old man. How is he ever going to live this down? He might as well have died last night, because nothing can top this embarrassing and degrading outcome. In fact, he prefers death over having the owner of the house walk through that closed bedroom door and directly confront him.

He hates this, hates feeling helpless against his own sinister decisions and premediated remorse that always comes the morning after. Why couldn’t he be good, listen and follow the rules like everyone else?

Why does he always choose to do the wrong things and screw everything up like the worthless human he knows he is. This isn’t right and he’s sorry for the obvious burden he is on who ever has allowed him into their home. Who ever has felt the need to take care of him.  

He sighs as he feels his brain contract, throbbing against his skull and gags feeling a familiar sickness raising up his throat. It has him staggering out of the bed and running to a door he hopes leads to some form of washroom.

JinJin pushes past the door and almost forgets he’s trying to keep down vomit as he marvels at the joint deluxe bathroom. It’s clearly a very expensive apartment, he understands that.

He quickly shuffles over to the toilet and clumsily falls to his knees as he lets the consequences of drinking continuously spill out. Each lurch forward and dry heave is a shameful reminder of how out of place he feels here. How much he knows he doesn’t belong. He grips the sides of the surprisingly clean bowl and leans over to rest head against the cool ceramic.

This is disgusting.

It’s gross and humiliating and nothings going to change this guilt that’s seeping into his skin like a deadly poison. He hits the button, flushing down everything that has now left his stomach hallow. Weirdly enough, he feels better and less like his insides are twisting in a toxic hurricane. He slowly gets up as to not upset his calmed sickness and heavily steps over to the mirror.

JinJin scowls at his appearance that’s reflected like a poorly painted self portrait before him as he washes his hands, despising his rather unattractive rugged image. Just his luck.

He scoffs.

He looks straight out mad. His face is puffy and his eyes are a glossy pink. Great. It’s almost as if he’s caught some where in between looking deathly ill, still drunk, and slightly high. He probably is, but that’s besides the point. This is what the home owner is going to see when they come to fetch him and he hates it. Hates that he doesn’t look perfect. He strongly grips the metal of the faucet and decides to wash his face, taking the time to fully slosh a handful of water around his mouth.

What if the owner came in right now?

JinJin shakes his head, he doesn’t want to imagine it, because the more he thinks about everything the closer he nears that gruesome breaking point and he’d rather not fall apart in an unknown house.

After hurriedly taking care of his business which incudes taking a pee and attempting to brush down his jungled locks, JinJin speedily steps out of the bathroom, because he’s afraid of getting caught, afraid of not feeling welcomed. The anticipation is killing him. He can practically hear the ticking of the bomb that’s about to erupt and explode every rational scenario he has playing out in the back of his head.

Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of the bedroom door and debating if he should really enter the main room because once he leaves this safe enclosure he’s open to any form of scrutiny. Any form of hostility and he’s not sure if he’s ready for that. He has no idea what is possibly waiting for him on the other side of this wall and the more he pictures it the more he wants to cower in the corner. To cry until MJ magically shows up and takes him home, because this predicament is entirely troubling. An unfavourable wrong turn on his part.  

He shakes his head and slaps his cheeks. He needs to man up and take charge. To deal with this like a grown adult, it’s not like one night stands are as outlandish as he’s making them out to be and didn’t he yearn for this?  His hand is growing sweaty from how hard he has been tightly clasping the door knob and he knows it’s essential he do it, that he penetrate this obscure affair while it’s still in its freshest stage. He feels about as presentable as someone can be in a stranger’s home anyway and it’s the absolute best he’s going to get.     

JinJin closes his eyes and takes a heavy breath in as he gently opens the door to conceal any noise. He just stands there in the wide entrance and calmly counts until thirty before he unfastens his clenched eyes.

No one’s here.

It’s empty in every way possible, like a newly built complex with no time to establish the warmth and character of a living home. It has no heart in its bare walls and simple décor. This place is an exact clone of every classy, in date magazine approved space and JinJin wonders if the owner is as transparent as this obviously plain abode. He briskly steps into the open space of what he believes to be a top floor apartment. A grand window is directly across the sleek sofa, over looking some of the city and JinJin’s glad he’s not afraid of heights as he looks out into the wide-awake world.

This place is fancy, clearly for someone of the upper class and it alone probably costs more then his entire life. It makes him click his tongue in envy. He would give up anything to live in an apartment like this, own something as magnificent as this.

It is evident now that that no one is home and that does measures on JinJin’s painfully beating heart. It allows him to breathe freely as he walks around the flat in search of something that can tie a specific face to the space. There are no pictures, no awards or medals, no lingering papers and JinJin doesn’t want to over step his boundaries by making it seem like he’s snooping, so he keeps his fidgeting fingers strictly at his sides.

JinJin continues to circle around the living room until he’s absentmindedly walking into the kitchen, dragging his feet along the cold wood of the floor each step of the way. He really does need some aspirin, or Advil, or just anything with the ability to kill a pounding headache.

He strolls past a small side table, stops, and walks back again.

Soon enough he is standing in front of that slick black stand and side eyeing the landline, before quickly picking it up. He needs to figure out what he has done last night and whose apartment he is currently situated in.

JinJin dials his own phone number hoping either he’ll hear the familiar tone softly buzzing around the apartment, or someone he knows picks it up. He brings the landline to his ear, resting it in the crook of his neck.

, his head is seriously suffering.

The once dull aching has now migrated, consuming the entirety of his scrambled thoughts and the faint ringing coursing through his ear is plain white noise to the intense throbbing eating away at his brain. JinJin stumbles over to the kitchen. He needs water and he needs it now. He gasps as he walks past the oven, noticing the blinking time. Was it really twelve in the afternoon?

Luckily the first shelf he opens holds the glasses. He carefully picks one out and turns to the tap to generously fill it with water. He knows that to take care of a hangover you need water, he has nursed himself back to health from way too man in the past. He gulps down the entirety of the glass and leans down to fill the empty cup once again.

He waits and listens, but he can’t make out his ringtone lingering in the cleansed air. He really hopes he hadn’t lost it, or worse had his most needed and precious possession stolen.

“Hello” an all to familiar raspy voice answers and it has JinJin sighing out in relief. “Hyung.” He happily squeaks out and he’s truly happy that his phone is unharmed even if he knows MJ has secretly gone through it. “Where are you?”  MJ questions and JinJin can hear the sleep dripping from the elder’s husky voice.

“Jinwoo?”

“Look hyung, I don’t know where I am or what I did last night, but I need you to tell me if Sanha’s safe?” He doesn’t care about anything else right now. This is at the top of his priorities and he needs to make sure because he doesn’t want to hear about his cute little dongsaeng getting hurt or anything. He was supposed to be protecting the boy, not in some random house experiencing borderline amnesia. “What of course Sanha’s safe you idiot and what do you mean you don’t know where you are?” MJ hisses into the receiver and it has JinJin humming out in comfort.   

All it takes is just hearing MJ’s voice to lift his mood, to chase away all the negativity and force him into better spirits. MJ has always been able to calm his bipolar nerves, to quite that uneasy nervous queasiness with all the warmth and peace he needed, wanted. Much like a nostalgic childhood blanket and JinJin can’t live with out it’s cozy enclosing security. He feels okay now and oddly enough he recognizes the similarity in this situation, believes he has said these exact words to MJ before.

“Like I said before hyung. I. Don’t. Know. Where. I. Am. Should I be worried?” he questions and MJ laughs. “Well you sound a lot less frantic for someone who has just woken up in a stranger’s bed.” He states and JinJin chuckles along, because if only the older knew. But, he’s past all that self loathing and sympathetic denial from earlier because crying is in no way going to fix this problem, or make the situation any better. He needs to wipe these weakening tears from his eyes and fully accept this grey fate.

It never was a misleading dream, it’s reality and he can’t change that.  

“Hyung if an old man walks through that door, I will find you and I will kill you for letting a stranger take me home. Do I mean nothing to you?” JinJin wallows, trying to stifle his giggles to at least sound a little bit intimidating. But he does mean what he has said all lame jokes aside. He will kill MJ if some old ert, or in general if someone he doesn’t like had the opportunity to take advantage of him in this possible abduction.

 At least he’s able to laugh about it now, because who knows how long that will last. How long he will be able to look at the bright side and continue to pretend this whole thing isn’t bugging him.      

“Jinwoo, I would have fought anyone if I didn’t think they were good enough to take you home. Are you still drunk? Cause I thought seeing you kiss Donghyuk was the end of it.” He can practically image his friends victorious smirk and his own stifling silence is all the proof MJ needs to know he hit a sensitive nerve. Did he really kiss Donghyuk? He would rather burn all the memories everyone has of him at that party then hear about last night, because it’s all so mortifying. He just knows he has done some stupid , feels it in the way his body is jittering, buzzing as if his insides are trying to tell him the stories of all the humiliating stuff he’s done.      

But there’s a flaw to MJ’s words and JinJin’s lighting up at them.

“So, you know who took me home last night? You know whose house I’m in?” he questions. “It wouldn’t be right if I told you.” MJ softly utters, barely audible as he shuffles around on the other end. Why couldn’t MJ tell him? Why was everything suddenly becoming so secretive when it never was before?  He wasn’t someone MJ could just play with for fun, this wasn’t a reality TV show and he wasn’t the main character. He has a right to know and besides it’s his reputation on the line, not MJ’s. His embarrassment if the secret person walks in and demands payment for this, he doesn’t like having to owe people. Having to carry the grunt of this burden on his conscience and feel lesser by default.

“Hyung” JinJin starts about to voice his hurt feelings, but a bang stops him from ranting on. “Oh .” JinJin hesitantly turns his head towards the door and freezes to the sound of jingling keys. He can hear MJ yelling into the phone that is now clamped tightly at his side in his dropped hand.

He quickly brings it back to his ear. “Someone’s trying to unlock the door.” He whispers. “And I swear MJ if it’s some grown man I’m seriously going to kill you.” With his warning voiced out, he ends the call because today he feels he deserves the last word. Deserves to feel he’s not only entertainment to MJ and that this is no longer a sadistic game. This is real life and MJ needs to understand that.   

It’s in matter of minutes before he knows he is going to have to accept this. Before they meet in the worst circumstances and he’s ready. Ready to throw all his dignity out the window and acknowledge this whole unfortunate situation.

The person behind the door must really be struggling because JinJin can hear the rustling of plastic and the dropping of bags. He carefully places the dirtied glass in the sink and phone on the counter as he brashly decides that he is going to greet the owner. He needs to face his truth one way or another and he can’t particularly hide from this one. Besides he is a guest in this person’s house regardless of the reasons as to why.

Maybe he can finally receive the answers he needs, the answers that will sufficiently calm his muddled mind. He hesitantly walks over to the door where he can hear faint mumbles and exaggerated sighs.

He can do this. He knows he can.

His hand is inching closer and closer towards the door handle, each suspenseful progression acting as additional courage. He’s internally churning with adrenaline as he shakily grasps the metal and he is about to release the jailing lock, but before he can the door is opening, shoving him along its unfolding path.

JinJin doesn’t have time to bring peace upon himself, doesn’t have a single second to pull himself together because the man stepping through that narrow entrance like an appearing idol is someone he can’t even imagine. Someone he can’t believe is standing before him in such a situation.

It can’t be real.  

And just like that everything’s stopping and is coming to a deafening halt. He wasn’t expecting this and now he doesn’t know what to do, or how he should react and positively no daring guts left to act on.  

“Eunwoo?”

The name is rolling off his tongue like a well rehearsed line and he can’t help but sound weak to it. He’s awkwardly looking up at the taller male in shock, who only smiles down at him and what gives Eunwoo the right to smile?

“Oh, you’re up. How are you feeling?” JinJin’s stuck fixed in that spot slightly behind the open door, blankly peaking up at Eunwoo like a lost child. He’s completely star struck and Eunwoo’s staring at him waiting for a reply, but he can’t seem to break this hypnotic trance. When he finally comes to his senses, he does the only thing he can think of and that is to run!

Run out that door and past what ever possible mistake he made last night. Run before Eunwoo sees him at this brutality honest low and tells him he should be leaving anyway, because of how repulsive he is. It just seems like the most logical solution, one that doesn’t end with him getting hurt and he doesn’t want to hurt. At least not today, not right now.  

“Wait.” Eunwoo yells, dropping his bags and grabbing for JinJin’s wrist. “I’m sorry, I have to go! Its not supposed to be like this, I can’t do it.” JinJin cries out, hastily pulling his hand away and running before Eunwoo has the chance to stop him.  

He doesn’t think twice about his disowned shoes, pants, or what ever else of his belongings that are being left behind. Doesn’t care that he is currently sprinting bare feet down a flight of stairs in nothing more then that white shirt which without a doubt belongs to Eunwoo and his hideous pink flower boxers. Doesn’t care that he is leaving behind the man of his dreams and without much of an explanation. He doesn’t even know what happened last night, or what would permit Eunwoo into taking him home, but he wants to know.

Wants to know what he just abandoned in that top floor apartment and why every ounce of forgotten heart break is coming back to him like a freshly shot bullet wound.

Why he’s crying and he can’t figure out why.  

Hello~ 

Another update after so long, I’m so sorry. two more chapters guys and it shouldn’t take me long to update because I have most of it written. I never intended to carry this out for so long, but I just got too invested and so many ideas kept coming, sigh. Wow we reached over 50 subscribers and it really does make me happy, so thank you to everyone for that.

And um Astro comeback? who's ready for that because I’m certainly not.

until my next update ~

Breaking boundaries