160109

Nine days into 2016 and Jongin can already expect the other 356 to be exceptionally ty.

From the moment he could comprehend words, the importance of trust was drilled into his mind. Trust is what structures bonds, what forges them, and what preserves them. His entire life is centered around three solid principles: integrity, citizenship, and trust. Those characteristics all weave into one, creating the basis for a functional person, not only as an individual but as an addition to society. These past twenty-one soon twenty-two years have proved the theory realistic in most aspects. Jongin had been performing well until an outer force interrupted the sequence. Sometimes things go wrong that are out of one’s power, things like an unforeseen case of betrayal. Because for the whole of his existence, Jongin relied on his strong morals to carry him through the flames of life unscathed. But because Minseok planted the seedling of doubt in his thoughts, he suddenly can’t even trust even the one he would give his life for.

It feels like treason, being unable to have faith in Kyungsoo just because of an intoxicated roustabout. In the six years they’ve been acquainted, nothing could ever deter Jongin’s belief in the goodness of Kyungsoo’s heart. Not when he exchanged crude conversation with Baekhyun about bypassers on the street. Not when he knocked Chanyeol upside the head for being a . Not even when he delivered envious fists to Sehun’s face. Not once did his trust in the elder ever waver. So why, just because someone claimed it to be fact, does he begin to question his fiance’s loyalty?

Jongin will admit the temptation to confirm his doubts has been powerful. But just that could devastate their already tattered-beneath-the-surface relationship. What if Minseok was mistaken? What if it wasn’t true? Not only would Kyungsoo detest him for his profound hypocrisy and ignorance to their pillars of love, but he would resent himself for being so utterly gullible and foolish. The pros are heavily outweighed by the cons, and frankly, Jongin doesn’t think taking the trepidatious chance is worth it.

But perhaps Kyungsoo would understand where he’s coming from. He’s sure the other knows the struggle, if their June argument stands for anything. If Minseok was wrong, then this would just be another milestone to overcome. It would simply be a small bump in the half-paved road to a better, committed future.

On top of Jongin’s back-breaking internal drama, his classic literature teacher decided it was prime time for an essay analysis on some remote paperback book from the 1800’s. For Heaven’s sake, everyone literally just returned to the university a few days back when winter break concluded. But no, it is completely reasonable to a certain pea-brained professor. And of course brilliant minds must think alike, so a couple of his other minor classes have mandated highlighted pages upon pages of neatly scripted notes of him. It’s simply unacceptable, and he’s got zero tolerance for it.

Good thing Chanyeol has taken up working at the drug store again, or he would’ve come to bother him.

The sound of solid rhythmic thumps against wood are close to hypnotizing.

“ this, I just want to fall asleep and never wake up.

Too much work. Too many emotions. I can’t keep up.”

He rests his weary eyes, breathing deep and counting the seconds before he releases.

Inhale.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Exhale.

Jongin offhandedly wonders how much farther he can push it.

Inhale.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twe-

Choke.

The dancer chides himself for being stupid as he hacks away, coughing up nothing and fighting for air in his lungs.

Is this what it’s like to drown?

An abstract thought.

I wonder.

On the wooden chair under him, he sprawls his arms and legs out and lets them fall as if they had no structure. He tilts his head on a diagonal axis backwards and slowly shuts his eyes.

Pale moonlight cradles the surface of the water, a shimmering contrast to the lifeless black realm Jongin sinks into. He muses that capturing a sample of that pretty glow in his hands would be quite poetic, and outstretches his arm to do just that. But he can never seem to get a grip on it. It keeps slipping away as he plummets farther and farther beneath the skin of silver; teasing his fingertips with kisses, then rushing off.

Somewhere in the void of sound below the ocean, a voice seeps into his ears - a comforting whisper.

Just let go.

Let go.

Let go.

Let go.

I’ll catch you.

“Catch… me.”

His eyes remain shut, as visions of obsidian floods behind his lids.

“Catch me.”

Next thing Jongin knows, he’s free falling into a pit of depths whose peripheries can rival that of many horizons. From what he can decipher, sediments and minerals mixed into clay form boundless walls of rock that surround his downward venture. His heart is not racing a grand stallion, and he is astonishingly at ease for someone plunging straight to collision. The of wind tickles his neck and ears, cradling him in wispy limbs and divulging another message.

Take my hand.

Take it.

Take it.

Take it.

I’ll save you.

“That,” a hushed tone comes out plausibly. “That sounds nice.”

The next abyss he transitions to is a quiet meadow, scaped with peonies and tulips and daisies and irises and bluebells of all lands. It’s a quaint little place with a clear cerulean sky high above. Aromas of vernal blooms and flowing grass relax his body and mind even further. He hears no voice this time, but instead the chirping of birds and chattering of nearby animals. From far off in the distance, a gentle melody lifts his soul. His deltoids ache with a dull sting, and wings cut themselves out in sprouts from them. The feathers allow him to float leagues into the Sun, gentle beams crooning his tanned body. He notices he sports a pure white toga, and gasps in awe of it.

“But what do I do now?”

Jongin stands by patiently for a voice to guide him.

All alone, he drifts around.

“Hello? Please tell me what to do!”

In a flash, the Sun is dyed a scorching scarlet and the vast blue of the sky is tainted an ominous mahogany.

The change in the weather is anything but discreet, what with the howls of wind bursting past him. Rain begins to pour in torrential amounts. The birds no longer sing, but instead screech of their agony in horrifying shrills. Panic is rising inside and the soft of his down is plucked away by the gusting wind with every heavy breath he heaves.

“What’s going on? Help!”

Not this time.

It’s your turn.

“But please! I don’t know what to do! I’m going to fall!”

Thunder claps from somewhere a half-mile above him. The crack of lightning follows and strikes the terrain not too far from his suspended position in the air.

You’re alright.

Trust yourself.

Trust.

Trust.

Trust.

Jongin’s eyes are squeezed shut, tears welling up.

“I can’t do it!”

But his guide is long gone.

“Please!”

He gasps, awoken from his imagination. His mouth hangs wide open as he fights to swallow down a breath. His hands are clammy, perspiring and raw.

Trust yourself.

The anxiety has never hit so hard in all of his lifetime.

Clarity has been shown to Jongin in his dreams and his nightmare. Strangely symbolic, they have forced him to come to the stark understanding that confrontation is the only way to go about this, this dire situation that no longer can be denied.

It’s the right decision.

At least, that’s what he spends the following hours convincing his heart in a single motionless spot on the couch with tears his face and a weak will to keep himself together.

So why is it when Kyungsoo steps through the front door all haggard and limping, he can’t muster enough courage to work things out?

Not yet noticing the top-notch tension, the barista lets his jacket fall off his shoulders onto the ground. He rolls his neck a few times to relieve the tautness in his muscles. A low groan is his response to the tight strain. It isn’t long before eyes sweep across Jongin in the black blanket of night shadows. Why he had abstained from switching on the lamp is not a conjecture that plagues him.

Luckily for Jongin, Kyungsoo is the one that initiates the conversation with a nonchalant, “Hey, Nini. How was your day, love?”

The younger inwardly cringes at how smoothly the L word rolls off his tongue, as if he has said it millions of times over - enough for it to lose its once awe inspiring relevance.

It is in silent seconds later that he remembers he possesses a fully capable voice to reply to the question and coughs awkwardly.

“I-It was alright, I guess.”

“That’s great,” Kyungsoo smiles and takes a seat next to him on the couch. “I see you were working at those pesky assignments today.”

His answer is curt.

“I was.”

“I feel for you, baby. Don’t they know you’ve got a life outsi-”

The moment the older tries to twirl his fingers into his, Jongin flinches away.

Oh, that wasn’t obvious.

Instantly the guilt crashes into him with as much impact as that of a 16-wheeler.

The downward pull at the corners of Kyungsoo’s lips establishes a profound state of unease in Jongin. His apprehension is reflected in the accelerated breaths that evoke his lungs to cry in ail. He hassles to reclaim the pressure-broken jar of emotions and thoughts and doubts and issues and pain that have now freed themselves into his inner state of mind. It now seems that everything has fallen apart while simultaneously becoming clearer.

Alert, Kyungsoo makes to encompass the other in an attempt to compose him.

“Jongin! What’s wrong?”

He again jolts away from the contact, eyes growing wide.

“I-I’m!”

Words jumble themselves in mismatched cliques and they refuse to be heard in anything but an incomprehensible manner.

At some point, Jongin backs himself against a wall and slides to his haunches.

The world is caving in. The lack of oxygen is causing the edges of his sight to go dark.

“Hey, stay with me! Are you alright? What do you want me to do?”

Kyungsoo advances, gaining ground imminently nearer to Jongin while the younger shakes with fear.

“St-Stay away!”

Thoroughly startled, he draws back the tiniest bit.

“Stay away?”

“I’m sorry, K-Kyungsoo. But please, don’t come any c-closer!”

“Why? You’re five seconds away from a panic attack! How am I supposed to stand by?”

“No, you don’t understand! I just need a minute to calm d-down.”

The concerned crease of his brows trips Jongin up even more, and he sobs harder into his sleeve.

Minutes pass and eventually he is able to mold himself together.

“Jongin?” Kyungsoo treads hesitantly. “Are you…”

One last breath, and Jongin is in a state rational enough to handle this civilly. His cheeks are still damp, his eyes are quite reddened, but he is ready to face this like a man.

“I’m fine.”

Kyungsoo is crestfallen. Never before has Jongin denied his touch so adamantly. What could have possibly happened to make him so sensitive in such a short period of time? Did someone hurt him? The prospect sends chills down his spine, and he quivers in anger. If anyone laid their filthy hands on his piece of Heaven-

“Soo, we need to talk.”

.

Kyungsoo feels the creeping cold blood in his veins.

Something is wrong, something is very wrong.

“You know I trust you, right?”

There it is.

After all, no one can hide forever.

Is there even a use in putting up a mask?

Kyungsoo turns away to hide his shame from the younger, “Yes. I know you trust me.”

“And you know the extent of my love?”

“I do.”

Jongin stands to feel stronger, but his heart is pounding wildly to its own rapid beat.

“Then, you know how imperative it is that I figure things out? You’ll understand that I need to fix some things?”

“Please, Jongin. Let’s get to the point,” Kyungsoo stumbles over words, remorse and extreme regret denying his ability to speak. Who knew it would be so hard? Times spent with Yifan were always so easy to indulge in, but why is it so difficult to own up to it now?

The elder squares up to the other.

It’s nothing short of frigid in the air.

“Kyungsoo,” he prepares himself for the blow. “Are you cheating on me?”

Silence.

The question sounds so much worse in person than it ever did in the recesses of Kyungsoo’s mind. He never took into consideration how devastated Jongin would be; never thought about how his head would droop, how his eyes would squeeze shut with tears, how his body would be trembling. No, Kyungsoo never once dreamt up how insubordinate Jongin would feel to both his fiance and himself for merely ruminating the possibility. Though pledging full understanding of Jongin’s affection for him, he never expertly realised how deep it runs. Even now it seems as if the younger is struggling to believe Kyungsoo could break his vows of friendship, of love, of trust. Jongin carries so much faith, and he’s gone and hammered it into less than microscopic atoms.

The dead atmosphere ironically amplifies every emotion that presents itself, peeking out from the curtains of each person’s heart.

No one truly desires to take the initiative of the inevitable and pour themselves out, vulnerable for the other to see. However, Jongin feels obligated, yielding to that fact that he’d been the one to bring up the topic.

He laments and reluctantly clamps his hand around Kyungsoo’s, ensconcing them both at the table. None too ambiguously, the mere yard in between their seats feels like a boundary wide as the Sahara. They’ve never been so estranged from each other while remaining in the same capacity.

Jongin reinforces himself with steel and scaffolds around his heart, and braves a look at Kyungsoo, who follows.

When dulled, yet hopeful eyes meet sullen and sorrowful, the revolutionary happens. Two people in galaxies alienated from each other suddenly collide and reunite for the first time in ages. With just one gaze, it’s as if the last few months never took place and they were back in their honeymoon phase; in love and at peace. But time doesn’t let itself be taken hold of, time doesn’t regulate itself to concede with anyone else’s benefit. Actions cannot be revoked, and unfortunately for the couple, they’re light years beyond the point of no return.

“Listen,” Jongin starts. “Please, please, please don’t take this as me dishonoring my trust in you. It’s just that I… I heard some things from someone, and it was so parallel with our issues and distance that went on after the showcase. I thought about how alone I was when you began to work; about how worthless and tossed aside I felt, and it provoked the connection. You dealt with that same loneliness - probably even magnified - almost a month prior to our dispute. Why wouldn’t you stray? Besides the security of our love and future marriage, I couldn’t brainstorm anything else.

If you take the time to l-look at it like I have, things really do line up, K-Kyungsoo!

But I am passionately hoping, praying to every deity out there even, that this is just some gimmick that I was too gullible to believe for just a short second.

I know our love is strong enough to withstand infidelity.

So please, tell me I’m mistaken.”

By this time, all the restraints Jongin was able to so courageously maintain had more than loosened.

The invincible charade vanishes. His head is in his hands as ugly sobs strike his throat and lungs discordantly. Shuddering overtakes his entire body as the realisation that Kyungsoo’s silence must mean something hits.

“P-Please, say something. Anything!”

His heart is shriveling under the of fire, and he doesn’t know how much more he can shoulder.

Relenting, Kyungsoo throws his hands up.

“Yes, I did! I’m sorry, okay!”

The last of Jongin’s lingering endurance wanes into nothing.

Air catches in his throat and again he senses another black out instigated by nerves and superior stress.

He is downright shell-shocked.

Almost six years, for nothing?

“Y-You-"

He finds extreme difficulty in spitting anything at all out.

Nothing is going right.

It’s all gone.

A fist smashes itself onto the table as Jongin stands, knocking the chair off its legs.

“How could you?”

“Jongin, I-”

“What the were you thinking? Kyungsoo, what the ?”

He grasps the older’s shirt in handfuls of bunched fabric.

“Let me explain!”

“What is there to explain? What could you possibly tell me that would justify this disgrace?”

Kyungsoo is rendered voiceless.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneers and throws the other back.

“Jongin…”

“! I’m so ing stupid!”

“J-”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Stop trying to save yourself!”

Jongin’s doing his best not to heave all over the table, but the words don’t stop spilling out. His mouth is on auto-pilot now.

“This last month, you made sure I was the most delighted I had been in a while!

What was that? Was it a lie?

, were you even going to tell me? Or was your plan to just let me find out on my own?

I could have gone another year without knowing, you ! A year! I would have gotten married to you while you were sleeping behind my back!

Remind me to thank Minseok for saving my dignity. Without his ing drunk , I’d still be your joke of a side .”

Stunned silent, Kyungsoo crumples to the ground.

“How could you? I can’t believe this!”

Jongin laughs bitterly, currents rushing off his cheeks.

“I wonder how many times you’ve ed me over right in front of my face. Wasn’t it fun? Telling me you love me, then playing around somewhere else?

Do Kyungsoo, I have loved you for almost a fourth of my life! I worked my off to impress you. I sacrificed my other friends to spend time with you. I devoted my soul to you! This is what I get in return?

That ing Oh Sehun was right about you.”

Finally running out of fuel for the time being, Jongin simmers down.

“I’m sorry, Jongin! I’m truly sorry. I don’t know why I did it, but I love you! I love you more than anyone could ever love anyone else!”

Jongin growls, “Stop lying to me, you bastard.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Well then, how am I supposed to believe you? You think that after having my trust so destructively strewn to bits, I would believe this mockery?”

“I never lied about loving you! I never did!"

“Kyungsoo, shut up! Don’t you get it? There is nothing you can do to fix this! You can’t patch up the damage you’ve done and call it good! You’re not a magician, and even if you were, there wouldn’t have been a single thing you could say or do to resolve this. It’s simply unforgivable.”

He gives him one last glare and heads to their room.

“What are you doing?” Kyungsoo gasps, running after him.

When he reaches the bedroom, Jongin almost faints.

Their once sanctuary appears filthy in his mind. What sins have taken place here?

“No, Jongin. Please don’t do this!”

He shuffles around restlessly, searching everywhere for a duffle bag big enough for a week’s refuge at Junmyeon’s. His door is always open, and there’s no better place he can think of to get away from this Garden of Gethsemane teeming with ruined memories.

“We can talk about it, please!”

“We could have talked about it a long time ago, and perhaps we would have been fine,” Jongin shades as he stuffs his necessities in the bag.

Everything feels so unfamiliar.

Boy, does this hurt like Hell.

Jongin marches his way out to the front foyer.

The wavering in his heart threatens to make him drop that damned luggage, run back into Kyungsoo’s arms, and forgive him. But with his last resolution, he steels himself and coughs out, “You should have thought about what you were doing a long time ago.”

“I know, and I’m so-”

“Cry to yourself about it.”

Jongin shoves his beloved promise ring off his finger, doing his best not to cry again.

“Here’s your ing ring. Sell it and pay everyone their share back. You won’t be needing it anymore.”

“Jongin!”

“I’ll be back sometime soon to gather the rest of my things, but it will be arranged at a time you won’t be here.”

“No, please…”

“Kyungsoo, think real hard about what you’ve done.”

“Jongin…”

The door is opened and Kyungsoo’s eyes widen in utmost panic.

“Jongin, please! We can work this out! Please, I love you!”

“If you love me, you’ll let me go.”

And he’s gone.

Jongin walks out of Kyungsoo’s life with his head held high, but inside, his heart is crying.

×××××

February 14, 2016 ー

To My Love

Kim Jongin,

How does one write a sincere apology, a poem of the past, and a profession of love all in one journal entry? I wouldn’t know, but you would. You would somehow find a way to piece them all together in one beautifully scripted essay of sorts. You would tell me which format to lay it out in, which vocabulary to use with the tone of the passage. Hell, you would probably even tell me which pen would print the words best. You would do all that and more, and you would do it because you loved me.

One year ago today, I drove you to an open meadow and sat you down in the middle of its expanse. As you settled comfortably on the picnic blanket I draped out for the two of us, I stood back and admired how the purples and pinks of the sky reflected off your skin. They captured you in an ethereal frame, highlighting your natural beauty, and I could only stand there like an idiot and adore you. How was it that someone could look so breathtakingly gorgeous without doing a thing? Through your lashes, you gazed at the sunset over the horizon. It was the look in your eyes that confirmed it: I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

As it would happen, not everything goes to plan. At my own hands, the very hands that held you to an eternity, our relationship was brought to cruel destruction. I don’t wish to relive the time, so I will simply tell you this: I never stopped loving you. Of all the lies I told, or more the promises I broke, the biggest was saying that I had lost the love I felt for you. I psyched myself into thinking I was truly satisfied with him, when in reality I only got caught up in the rush of things. I was never happy. I was in a bad place, and I lost both myself and you in the midst of it.

 I’d like to thank you. For almost six years, you were the one who knew me best. You were there at both my highs and lows. You were the shoulder I cried on, the rock that grounded me, the sustenance that nourished me. You were everything I could have asked for and more. Don’t ever think of yourself as inadequate, because Lord knows you are anything but.

In your honor I’d like to dedicate a poem to you by Edgar Allan Poe. I still remember the first time we went to Barnes and Noble together and his complete collection was on sale. You looked at me and said, “Soo, if you were a poet, you’d be Poe. Dark and depressing, but also deep and intelligent.” Despite you practically naming me Emo Overlord of the literature world, I was flattered. And so, I have selected Evening Star to regard you.

 

‘Twas noontide of summer,

And mid-time of night,

And stars, in their orbits,

Shone pale, thro’ the light

Of the brighter, cold moon,

‘Mid planets her slaves,

Herself in the Heavens,

Her beam on the waves.

I gaz’d awhile

On her cold smile;

Too cold -- too cold for me --

There pass’d, as a shroud,

A fleecy cloud,

And I turn’d away to thee,

Proud Evening Star,

In thy glory afar,

And dearer thy beam shall be;

For joy to my heart

Is the proud part

Thou bearest in Heav’n at night,

And more I admire

Thy distant fire,

Than that colder, lowly light.

 

 I guess this is it, baby... , I miss you. I thought I could keep it together, but I’m failing. I can’t live without you, love. I’m drowning in nothing but my own mind. I constantly live in a state of suffocation that doesn’t seem to want to budge at all. Is this how life is going to be from now on? You trusted me and I gave it all up. I gave up Heaven’s most renowned angel. I ed up, I ed it all up. I understood that as soon as the door slammed shut the day you left. I can’t do this anymore.

I ended it with him the week after you ended it with me. I couldn’t take seeing him and being reminded of all my sins against you. I’m working on repenting. Doesn’t it count for anything? Come back to me. Come back, Jongin. I love you, so come back. Please, come back.

You’re never going to read this, are you? I’m so helplessly stupid. But if there’s one thing you should understand above all else is that I love you.

 I love you.

 And I will never stop loving you.

                   Yours and Only Yours,

                           Do Kyungsoo

×××××

January 27th, 2016 ー

Untitled

Entry Five

Philophobia, the fear of falling in love.

Many claim to have it, just as many claim to be depressed. It has over time become romanticized to the point where it’s not even ironic anymore. Young teens parade around saying they are scared to fall in love, simply for the sake of being aesthetic or grunge. To take a stand, this will speak for those whose voices have been shouted over by such people.

Writers often have clouded judgment of love. Years of telling tales of how love destroys people in the worst ways have jaded them. To get to know their characters better, they put themselves in their shoes and live their lives. Not only do they deliver the heartbreak, they suffer through it. It is this that closes them off. They are aware of just what horror could ensue if they were to love the days away. The very thought of placing their happiness in another’s hands is terrifying. Giving someone else the very power to destroy your entire being, that comes with loving someone. The risk is too great, and often people give up on it altogether.

I once defied the fear in my heart and fell in beautiful love with a man who I believe could lift the Sun and part the sea.

I used to believe in love and all its good points.

By now, that’s gone and died out.

Memories are just painful reminders of the past.

Dreams are meager hopes shattered by his hand.

Trust. What happened to it?

Loving can hurt, and perhaps I’ll never love again.

---

a/n: lol that's it folks!! stay tuned for bbh companion fic and major revising and rewriting for this one oops.