The Phobia List ✷

NECROPHOBIA; FEAR OF DEATH AND/OR ANYTHING RELATING TOWARDS IT
Character(s): Sunggyu, Sungjong and Myungsoo/L
Author: eseech

Oh trust me to get anything on time and with good quality. I'm sorry, peach_fantasy, you have to deal with this .

It’s another colour he can’t see, another diluted shift of the world and another word he can’t seem to grasp. A bunch of maniacal sounds and panicked shrieks painted in some of the most awkward keys the piano can colour. In seconds a laugh turns into a frown which is actually a cry, and without knowing the world of black and white Sungjong rushes from the noise and beeps, ignoring that last piercing note which echoes in his brain as the world starts to grey again. No more bright yellows, oranges, reds and greens – only the dimming blue which soon fades into black, and like a photo from years ago his life becomes a muted picture which is simply just white, black and grey.

“Oh, Sungjong, didn’t expect you to come back.”

A cough follows the voice as Sungjong is greeted by a familiar musky scent and the reminder of coffee. Sungjong nods vaguely like the sustained voices and ugly sounds, dragging his half-full luggage as he leaves the last trace of Myungsoo at the doorstep of Sunggyu’s homey apartment. A letter falls from his bag and Sunggyu calls towards it, but Sungjong dismisses the memory with a wave and settles himself down. Almost immediately he swipes the worn pot plant from its table and despite Sunggyu’s demanding yell, the boy lays himself down and closes his eyes.

Sungjong-ah, follow me, yes?

The boy opens his eyes immediately, straightening himself as he sits up, ignoring Sunggyu’s mutters. Sungjong clenches his fists repeatedly, breathing heavily as rain began to pour like the remainder of the other’s echo. He ignores the funny looks he gets from the older as he bits his lip, the tight material he wears on his chest. It’s constricting like the other’s lingering memory – painful like Myungsoo’s chilling laugh. The warm sepia pictures become cold and stab like knives against Sungjong’s heart. The younger closes his eyes and pretends he can’t hear the last crumbs of Myungsoo’s sweet dessert.

“What a mess,” Sunggyu grumbles, sweeping the remains away. “Kid, what’s your problem?”

Sungjong ignores the other. “I need to take a shower.”

Sunggyu scoffs, “Shower’s left of the bedroom. Need anything?”

“New clothing,” Sungjong decides. He helps himself to some as he feels the hot water trickling down his skin.

Sungjong remembers when the mellow music wasn’t as hauntingly vacant as it is when Sunggyu hums so nonchalantly, frying an egg as lunch dawns upon them both. Sungjong breathes in and out heavily, refusing to accept help even when he’s on his knees, practically suffocating. He brings himself through it once again and again in the dust of his own mind the world clouds up and his world loses meaning. By then Sunggyu announces lunch, but lunch is another distant dream, and Sungjong sits himself on the couch and tries to remember why he’s still breathing.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Sunggyu asks, “It’s lunch.”

Sungjong tries to nod but he can’t feel himself, so he hopes the other can understand by the vague look in his eyes and the shining gleam he seems to possess. The corners of his eyes start to sparkle in the light and something trickles down his cheek. It doesn’t stop and in fact it increases to a point where Sungjong’s skin feels funny and when Sunggyu comes to drag him off the couch the elder bits his lip and decides not to speak. Maybe he can’t see the dried specks of water, or maybe Sunggyu doesn’t want too, but either is fine to Sungjong because in honesty Sungjong just wants to linger hopelessly and figure out why he’s in a conundrum where either way he loses.

Sungjong doesn’t want to live because there is no one left, but he doesn’t want to die because it’s scary and he can’t understand why it decided to take Myungsoo.

A feather touches his lips and decides to melt onto his skin, just like a sugary kiss from Myungsoo’s candy-filled lips. It’s like a shy hug from the older, or a string of laughter which echoes around the room when he speaks. The sunlight which pours into Sunggyu’s apartment reminds him of the strumming of a guitar, distinct voice and wave of happiness which used to grab Sungjong and never let him go. It still does, and for once Sungjong wants it to leave.

“You need to eat,” Sunggyu says firmly. He forces the skinny boy up and shoves a plate in his face. Sungjong looks from the plate to Sunggyu, and as he takes the first bite of egg, he can’t think of anything else. It’s mind-numbing and beautiful, so Sungjong takes another and another. Eventually it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t feel hungry. When he eats he can’t feel anything, and it’s absolutely amazing.

“Not that much,” Sunggyu scoffs. He smiles fondly at the younger boy, and hopes he can keep the other for a little while longer.

Sunggyu watches the other flutter around his house, never lingering too long. He watches as Sungjong peers into fish tanks and traces marble tables. He watches the way Sungjong’s t-shirt is to large for his small frame, and the way the younger indulges in food like no other. Most of all, he watches as his house lightens with the visitor and the way his house begins to smell of food.

Sungjong is a butterfly, and Sunggyu craves him so much he’ll plant flowers to draw him in.

“Goldfish,” Sunggyu says one day. Sungjong nods vaguely, his eyes a marble grey as they stare into the empty bowl. Sunggyu pours the little creature in, handing the shaker to Sungjong for feeding. He leaves the boy and the fish, and hopes they’ll fix each other. Instead, he moves to fix some food.

Thousands of hundreds of cakes and sweets surround the tables of his house as does flour, bean paste and taro. Dishes cooking one, two and five at a time in small quantities of little snacks are scattered around his small kitchen, all devoured by the younger specially. Dense, thick cakes and light cream-filled ones vary in the house as rolls and slices and macaroons fill the house with amazing colour and skill. Never has Sunggyu cooked so much and, devoid of anything but desire, his creations taste accordingly. He’s almost happy the almond eyed boy is gone.

Almost, because then he straightens himself and remembers he’s Sunggyu.

He walks towards the living room where Sungjong and the goldfish lie, a plate of macaroons in his hand. He watches as the other engrosses himself in the small creature, words flowing out like a small autumn breeze.

“Fishy,” Sungjong murmurs, his eyes trailing the fish, “Make my troubles go away.”

And it blinks back.

Sungjong feels someone slowly shake him. He hears a laugh which makes the corners of his lips twist into a smile. He murmurs some words and buries himself deeper into the covers, which causes the hands to grip him and shake him harder. He can almost feel the body collapse on top of him, the fingers which entwine in his own, and the tug of a grin which plays on the other’s lips. He wants to laugh and open his eyes, only to see Myungsoo sleeping on top of him.

There’s only a gust of wind across his face.

Sungjong gets up dejectedly and pushes himself to look half-presentable. He pulls on another one of Sunggyu’s shirts because everything else reminds him of Myungsoo, sliding back his luggage without a care because Myungsoo bought it for him. He chucks his toothbrush in the bin because Myungsoo was an who could never remember which was his own, and looks away from the mirror because it was Myungsoo’s best friend.

It’s funny how one day you can completely ignore a person, yet the next everything you do reminds you of them in a single move.

Sungjong touches the glass, watching as the little fish swims towards him curiously. Sungjong whispers towards it, his mouth against the glass as he speaks. His hand reaches towards the shaker, lightly tapping the can against the bowl. The fish rises to the top and Sungjong smiles. His fingertips tap against the glass and for a second the house is still and even against the wind the most distinct sound is the tapping against the glass. It sounds so eerie in the confectionary-filled flat, and against the bright shades of morning, Sungjong feels warm.

He thanks the goldfish, who still blinks back.

He decides to feed the fish more, because food is everyone’s best friend and so far it’s the only thing still keeping Sungjong feeling. He wonders if the fish ever gets bored of eating the same thing, or if maybe the fish feels absent from different feelings. Sungjong ponders over it so much that when Sunggyu comes back from wherever, Sungjong asks him to buy more flavours of fish food.

“Why?” Sunggyu asks.

“Why not,” Sungjong responds and taps the glass. The goldfish moves towards him and Sungjong rewards the little fish with some food. Sunggyu watches the other warily, the bottle emptying at an alarmingly fast pace.

“I think,” Sunggyu pauses, “You need a new hobby.”

Sunggyu’s pretty sure he’s crazy, but eventually the younger’s new hobby involves food, lots of it, and Sunggyu turns into a chef once again. His kitchen becomes scattered with dirtied recipes and messy spills, but everything is done for that small beam of sunshine which dawns across Sungjong’s face. The younger boy looks as blank as ever, but when food comes across his lips the younger boy seems to smile, and when he does Sunggyu tries not too, but he smiles back.

“Myungsoo was a ,” he hears Sungjong murmur. Sunggyu isn’t sure if this is for him or just for Sungjong himself, but he finds his head nodding in amusement as the other continues to trail off. “He left me all alone here.”

It’s then when Sunggyu knows the boy, beyond all his sugary tendencies and love for that god dam fish, is mental. But he loves the younger all the same, and so as Sungjong treads across the floor holding a pillow demanding that the fish is underfed, Sunggyu obliges and buys more food. The younger smiles in satisfaction, and Sunggyu knows he’s crazy, but for that kid, he’d be okay with that – maybe.

It kind of snaps like that.

The fish stops swimming. Nothing too major, Sunggyu judges as he walks towards the kitchen. But Sungjong grabs his sleeve. It’s the first human contact the kid has had in awhile, and had the situation been different, Sunggyu would’ve smiled. He doesn’t, though, and frowns at the younger. He wants to know what the kid was expecting, and how if the younger had listened to him, the fish would’ve still been alive. Sungjong throws his hand onto Sunggyu’s mouth.

“Do not talk,” the other commands. Sunggyu bits his lip and decides to oblige. He watches as the thin boy moves towards the fish, crouching to meet it at eye-level. Sungjong says nothing, absolutely nothing, and he watches the fish so carefully that it’s insane. Sunggyu moves towards the kitchen because he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to cook up a feast, and four hours later, Sungjong hasn’t moved.

“Eventually you’ll have to go,” Sunggyu says offhandedly. He gestures towards the fish, “It had to too.”

Sungjong ignores the other. His fingers trace the bowl, leaving fingerprints where the tips have lingered too long. There’s nothing, just a silent funeral. Sunggyu suggests saying a few words, but Sungjong refuses. The boy just watches. He stays like that for days, moving only to eat. His attention never diverts from the bowl. Sunggyu grows worried, but when his hand clasps against the other’s thin shoulder, all he feels is the icy coldness of the younger boy. He leaves.

One day, Sungjong throws the bowl. Sunggyu wants to scream, but it’s the first movement the younger boy has made in days. So instead he watches, observes really, as the other glares so angrily at the bowl. It’s the first raw emotion Sungjong has displayed since he came through the door with his limited belongings, demanding a shirt from Sunggyu. Sunggyu watches silently as the other yells, screams and thrashes.

“No, no, no!” Sungjong shrieks. “No, you can’t leave. You cannot. I forbid you. How could you?! Why?! Why did you leave? Why didn’t you take me too? Why did you leave me, why?! I demand you, tell me, look in my eyes – why did you leave? What made you choose to leave? Was I not good enough? Did you not love me enough? You lie – you should’ve tried. You should’ve tried harder. I beg you, god dammit, that you try harder. You lied, you lied so many times! Together forever – what was that ? It was just as much of a ing lie as you were. Why, why would you abandon me?”

It’s not even about the goldfish as he continues. “Why would you abandon me? Leave me here? Linger like a sweet scent I could never have? Why did you leave, yet why did your memory remain? Why do I think of you every single day? Why don’t you ever go away? Why is your scent still here? Why are your echoes still around me? Why do you linger when you should’ve died away? You said you loved me, yet why did you leave? Was this a game? Another ing game? Did you and death already have a deal? Did you plan this all along? Did you? Tell me, did you? I loved you with all my heart, but that wasn’t enough, was it? That would never be enough, would it?! Because that won’t bring you back, that won’t take you away – why are you still here? Everything I do still reeks of you. I tried so hard, so bloody hard to get rid of your scent. Go away, please, go away!”

Sungjong reaches for the nearest object, a glass vase, and chucks it at the wall. There are tears in his eyes, vacant memories of a love he once had, smiles which lost their shine which mirror in his eyes. It’s a clattering mess of badly sprayed perfume, burnt pictures and lost light which has left him long ago. There’s half a heart, a bunch of photographs and a lingering scent which refuses to wash away. In Sungjong there’s so much nostalgia which refuses to leave, and beyond his empty stare there are so many things Myungsoo has stolen. And as the young boy falls to the floor and shudders and weeps and cries, all the glass eyes and facades begin to peel away like age-old wallpaper on dirty scratched walls. Sunggyu reaches out to the other and tries to clasp his hand, and for once he takes the youngest boy into a hug which slowly tries to fill the murky spaces in his heart with water.

But water can’t replace the oozing, thick love which once seeped through the cracks of Sungjong’s heart, and while the two keep themselves in a dizzying embrace, there’s something so dead that it’s alive. Sunggyu gives promises he can’t keep – like how he’ll be there for Sungjong even though he can’t promise anything too deep and how he’ll never leave the younger the way Myungsoo did against the white sheets and withered protests. But sometimes, when it’s really quiet, Sungjong still sees Myungsoo in his dreams, and the other holds him and hugs him and kisses him, and sometimes that gets him through the nights when they become too cold. But other times, it’s waking up in Sunggyu’s arms with the other’s soft mumbles and careless words which carve a world so simple it’s complex and beautiful.