Time stands still for no-one.

 

 

Sometimes goodbye is just a harder way of saying I love you.

 

 

And to those whom we say I love you, we will have to eventually say goodbye.

 

 

But most times, goodbye is the only way we can begin again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Their goodbye was nothing like the movies. It was every bit real, every bit terrifying and every bit more heart-breaking. String quartets of violas and cellos played their tear-wrenching symphonies in sweet café tunes – a busy buzz of classic murmur and clinking glasses. Searing rain pelted from clear blue, cloudless skies while cries of heartbreak were hushed against the subtle rising of chests and thick silence.

 

Their goodbye was nothing like the movies. It was a quiet agreement made with barely functioning hearts, lying eyes, and the absence of the words which haunted every fiber of Jongin’s being; the words he desperately wanted to say, yet could never bring himself to-

               

We can start again.

 

 

But when Luhan said the exact same thing, Jongin knew he didn’t mean it the way he did.

 

 

 

We can start again, he pleads.

 

 

We can start again, he states.

 

 

Goodbye, he says and before him, a new beginning awaits.

 

 

Goodbye, he chokes and before him, the entire world shatters.  

 

 

 

 

 

∞

 

 

 

 

 

“Jongin, you !”

 

 

The rusty handle rattled and the familiar voice behind the flaking paint cursed softly. The sleepy-ridden figure enshrouded in filtered sunlight and heavy blankets tossed amongst the bed sheets. Irritated the sudden disturbance, he flipped over moodily onto his stomach and stuffed a pillow over his ears, though it did little to block out the constant annoyance which was his best friend, racking up a storm of high pitched yells from the other side of the apartment door. Jongin grumbled something about shooting Zhang Yixing in the head and suddenly held his breath in a moment of silence. Then it started up again; Yixing bashed on the door and Jongin was literally five seconds away from shooting himself in the head instead. He tried to ignore the loud threats of Jongin, I’ll bash your door down, and then I’ll come bash your head in and the annoying motherly scolding of If you don’t come out you’re going to turn white like a goldfish! Jongin laughed at that one. He grumbled an incoherent string of shut up shut up’s and he dragged himself from beneath of the covers. He let his feet dangle onto the cold floor, but his upper body still refused to leave the warmth. Yixing continued to yell.   

 

 

"Jongin! I'm going to drill a hole through your wall!

 

 

Jongin shouted back, his voice surprisingly dry and sore. He hadn’t cried last night. He had done his best to hold it in. Maybe it had been the screaming.

 

 

"I'm getting up, just...shut up!" and then he quickly added, "And don't you dare touch my wall!"

 

 

When Jongin finally, yet reluctantly swung the door open, Yixing was standing against the frame casually, expensive coffee-brown jacket slung over his shoulder, his thumb buried loosely into pocket of his navy-blue denim skinnies.

 

"Oh, you're not crying." His famous oh-so-surprised face showed and Kai once again wondered how the senseless idiot came to have friends. He wanted to shut the door in his face, but it would only give him satisfaction for a moment. Then he would open it again, just so he could slam it once more.

 

"I can't cry anymore," he whispered quietly under his breath, but Yixing heard and before the elder could say anything, he added, "not that men cry anyway."

 

 

 

∞

 

 

 

The friends found themselves on the lounge chair a while later, the chirpy voices on the television softly filling any silences between them, the gentle murmur of traffic below pulling Jongin back to reality from time to time. Yixing, even though he appeared to be clueless did his best to cheer up his hurting friend. They spoke small words like friends who hadn't seen each other for years – strangers if anything – have you been eating well's and you need more sleep's loosely filling the lonely air around them. As Yixing continued with his motherly lectures, Jongin glanced around the apartment. To be honest, he hadn't seen it in a while, considering he'd practically moved in with Luhan. Yet still, countless memories remained for him to dwell on, objects holding a life-time of memories only known to him and Luhan; the chipped vase that had accidentally been knocked over when he and Luhan had kissed in the dark. They might have had too much to drink at the club that night, stumbled into a taxi to Jongin's place because Luhan's was just a little too far away. They had tripped through the door Jongin had finally managed to get open, needy hands gripping brunette hair, clumsy steps falling towards the lounge. Luhan had carelessly stumbled backwards into a table and the vase had fallen on his foot before it hit the floor. The blonde had cried out in pain, but it soon dissolved into drunken giggles and melting kisses. Jongin was surprised he'd even remembered that night. Apparently, it had been the first time Jongin had told Luhan he loved him openly, but Jongin didn't recall that either. But he had kissed him sweetly none-the-less that morning, wrapped up in the other's delicate arms and ever-comforting warmth and promised that he would say it more often, if that made Luhan happy. 

 

 

Jongin blinked and Yixing was in the kitchen, pouring a glass of ice water from the fridge. His eyes followed him as he trailed back to the lounge chair and offered it in an extended hand. He took it and Yixing sighed.

 

 

"You haven't been listening to a single word I've been saying, have you?" he scolded, and Jongin laughed a little. Just a little. Yixing continued with something about the group wanting to head out to a club one night this week, but Jongin’s ears were closed, and eyes rested on a small ceramic bird with slight cracks running through the heart of it. It had been the only thing he’d been able to save from the box Luhan had thrown at the wall.

 

Jongin had been crying, because Luhan had been. He couldn't even remember how the fight started. He couldn't even remember whose fault it had been - his or Luhan's? Or both? He just remembered Luhan crying, his large brown eyes painfully red and stinging, his whole body trembling as he shouted – screamed; screamed at Jongin for being a heartless , for never being there when he needed him, for being such a selfish . Luhan's shrieks had filled the corridors, and rattled the windows. Jongin had never heard the smaller boy scream, he'd never seen Luhan cry – the way his tears had run like rivers of pent up anger and sadness down his cheeks, staining his porcelain skin like acid. The way his voice grew louder and louder, until it cracked. The way he sounded angry, but so hurt. And because of that, Jongin had been frightened. He had kept shouting I’m sorry, I’m sorry but Luhan's voice was louder.

 

 

It had drowned out Jongin's crying.

 

 

It had drowned out everything.

 

 

In the heat of the moment, the blonde had reached for the closest thing to him, a box full of ceramic ornaments and flung it across the room. Jongin had watched as the lid flew off mid-air and the delicate ornaments shattered against the wall and ceiling, and rained to the apartment floor in millions and millions of pieces of jagged snowflakes. Luhan had come towards him then, and Jongin hadn't known what to do. He was frightened. He was scared, of Luhan. Luhan had slapped him, and even though the elder's delicate figure held no strength, Jongin's reflexes had kicked in and he lashed out and the back of his hand had knocked his boyfriend violently to the floor. Jongin had cried even more and painfully dropped to his knees as the neighbours barged in.

 

 

 

"Jongin, I swear if I have to repeat myself one more time.”

 

 

The younger snapped back to the sound of his friend's voice. He pouted sheepishly and sighed.

 

 

 

He didn't want to forget Luhan.

 

 

He wanted to remember everything, even if it hurt him.

 

 

 

"You need to get out of here," Yixing sighed as he realised Jongin's attention was not on him again, instead rather a photograph of him and Luhan hanging high on the wall above the cabinet. But Jongin heard it.

 

 

 

 

"Yeah, I need to get out of here." He agreed, quietly.

 

 

 

 

∞

 

 

 

 

Jongin rolled his eyes as Yixing slunk over to him in the booth, very slyly dragging over an extremely confused and unfamiliar face. Sehun next to him nudged the tanned boy, and smirked. He whispered a hesitant he's cute and Jongin, pissed, stole his beer and took a swig. When he finished, he shook his head and muttered under his breath a small Luhan was cuter in reply. The dusty haired teen gave a slight shrug and a tinge of exasperation crept onto his face. It was only after Jongin mumbled a slight thank you anyway that his friend smiled. The bar tonight was jam-packed, as usual, the atmosphere filled with a mixture of after work chatter, sudden laughter and clinking glasses. The air was cold, like every winter, yet seemingly colder. Yixing squashed into the booth across from the teenagers and the wide eyes stranger hesitantly shuffled in after him. Sehun narrowed his eyes at Yixing, but the man ignored him. 

 

"So I was just up at the bar-"

"Cut it Yixing. I'm not interested," Jongin butted in immediately. He rolled his eyes at his friend's over dramatic act of being offended and stared as he grabbed the wide-eyed stranger's hand.

 

 

"Fine then. I'll take him for myself."

 

 

Jongin snorted and Sehun cringed. And if it were possible, the stranger's eyes grew even larger. Sehun playfully swatted Yixing's hand away and there was a moment of silence after the laughter died down.

 

The wintry night chattered on and the stranger, whose name Jongin learnt was Kyungsoo, slowly came out of his shell. Jongin didn't really listen to anything the milky-skinned boy had to say. His pink tinted opened and closed without a sound and he rarely blinked, Jongin noticed. The teenager studied his eyes. They were big, round orbs of innocence, and they reminded him of Luhan. 

 

 

Luhan.

 

 

Jongin couldn't forget him. Or was it, he didn't want to?

 

 

The brunette, frustrated with himself slammed his fist on the table, causing his beer to tip over and pour onto the laminated surface. Sehun, Yixing and Kyungsoo stared up in surprise and Jongin's mind went blank for a second. Yixing asked him softly are you alright? Jongin mumbled a slight response but the truth was, he wasn't. He wasn't alright. And he couldn't forget about Luhan. He wouldn't forget about Luhan. Not when every single thing reminded him of something Luhan liked, when every single person reminded him of his beautiful face, when every single thing someone said or someone did, Jongin would laugh and turn to the side to whisper about it in Luhan's ear, only to find he was talking to nobody. 

 

 

 

Nobody.

 

 

 

No, he wasn't alright.

 

 

 

 

Jongin excused himself from the table and headed to the back exit. Yixing quickly reached across the table and caught his wrist. He looked in the younger's eyes seriously and mouthed a simple don't. Jongin gave a half-apologetic look and broke away.

 

 

 

 

As Jongin stood outside, he was hit with the stinging cold wind and softly falling snow, lightly dusting the dimly lit sidewalks of yet another miserable night. In the distance, he could hear the city – soft car horns, slow rumbling of traffic – it felt as if he was disjointed from the rest of the world, that there was an invisible wall around him, wherever he went. The air was always cold.  The boy sat himself down on the stairs and brought his fur coat higher across his nose. He stared at the phone in his hand. He stared at it for a while. Yixing had pleaded for him to delete all of Luhan's messages, from the phone's memory - from his memory. Jongin had agreed. And Jongin had lied. 

 

He slowly scrolled through them, eyes flickering over the words under long dark lashes.

 

 

 

Jongin-ah. Tell Yixing his noodle-stir-fry is amazing! How do you still eat my cooking? Ha.

 

 

 

Jongin-ah. Are you sleeping? No? Good, because I wanted to say I love you! 

 

 

 

I love you, Jongin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You ! Don't think that sorry fixes any of this!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don't bother coming over today. I don't want to see you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stop calling! I don't want to talk to you! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shut up! I don't care. I don't love you, so shut up!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin-ah, I'm sorry. I love you.

 

 

 

 

I love you, I'm sorry.

 

 

 

Jongin?

 

 

 

 

Jongin-ah, please answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The brunette couldn't read anything after that. His eyes blurred and small droplets fell onto the screen. His tears were heavier than the snowflakes. They fell heavier, they hurt heavier. He wiped them away with his thumb, but accidentally scrolled and opened another message.

 

 

 

Hi, Jongin? This is Luhan from earlier! Do you want to go out for coffee something…maybe?

 

 

 

Jongin breathed in deeply and watched as the messages deleted one by one. 

 

 

Jongin-ah, I love you.

 

 

Deleted.

 

You love me too, right?

 

 

Deleted.

 

 

I hate you. Don't even speak to me anymore.

 

 

 

Deleted.

 

 

Deleted.

 

 

Deleted.

 

 

 

 

Jongin hesitated and gave in.

 

 

He slowly dialled Luhan's number. Even though Yixing had secretly deleted it from his phone, Jongin knew it off by heart. He held his breath as the number rang. His friend had made him promise not to call, because it only made things worse. Jongin didn't care. What he wanted most, was just to hear Luhan's voice again.

 

 

"Hello?" a voice answered.

 

 

Jongin tried to speak, but hearing the soft voice on the other end made his voice catch in his throat. Yixing had been right. This really was the worst.

 

 

"Hello?" the voice repeated. Jongin knew Luhan had erased his number, otherwise he would have known it was him that was calling.

 

 

"Jongin, are you there?"

 

 

Jongin froze.

 

 

"L-luhan?"

 

 

He heard Luhan on the other end let out a sigh of relief. 

 

 

"Jongin, are you okay? Are you in trouble?"

 

"No...I-just..."

 

 

 

Silence.

 

 

And then a sigh.

 

 

 

"Jongin...you are...an amazing person. You...you deserve better than me. Go out! Meet new people!"

 

 

"Is that what you're doing?"

 

 

 

When no reply came, Jongin whispered a small, sorry and hung up. 

 

 

His phone was clenched tightly in his numb fingers, his knuckles turning painfully white. The air suddenly froze around him, slowly suffocating him, numbing his senses – breaking his heart. He bit his lip hard in an attempt to stop himself from letting anything out – tears, sobs, feelings. He tried to hold it in, to keep his vision clear, his voice clear, his head clear. He let out a small gasp of pain as the door behind him swung open suddenly and whacked him square in the back. Yixing popped his inquisitive head out and giggled a guilty apology. The teenager ignored him and scrambled to his feet.

 

“Where are you going?” his friend’s voice was muffled slightly by his thick vermillion scarf, hugging his neck possessively, drawn high up around his pink dusted cheeks. Jongin muttered a dismissive home and the elder encouraged him to take a taxi. Jongin refused. He would walk. Walking helped clear the mind.

 

“Be careful,” was all his friend said after glancing around the empty streets. He pulled the small boy into a reassuring hug, and Jongin grasped his friend tightly, his numb fingers weaving deep into the warmth of the scarf. He quickly pulled away and turned before he could say another word – before he could change his mind.

 

 

 

 

∞

 

 

 

The sharp streets mocked him as Jongin dragged down the footpath, his lonely steps echoing his mind. His feet walked on their own accord and his thoughts simply wandered on their own empty path. Dusty moonlight gleamed from behind the darkness of thick cloud and the brunette merely gazed at the softly illuminated path disappearing gradually beneath his feet. A car rolled past, headlights obtrusively blinding his vision for a moment and in a second everything was back to nothing. He didn’t hear the sharp voices approaching him, the group of shuffling feet slowly quickening behind him. A rough hand pulled him from his thoughts and grabbed his shoulder. Jongin cried out as he was shoved into the brick wall, his back scraping against the harsh edges, stinging his skin invisibly beneath his coat. Everything whirled together and Jongin’s mind raced. His vision was blurred with pain and he could only faintly make out several darkly-dressed figures crowing around him. Jongin tried to pull his jacket higher above his cheekbones but one of the men grabbed his wrist and yanked it down harshly. His heart began to race now. It ached in his chest and his lungs grew tight. He could a glimpse of one of the faces beneath an oversized hood; gleaming jet-black hair, piercing eyes, a tinge of bruising underneath them. Jongin wondered if the stranger was beautiful, underneath the layers of ugliness. Jongin wondered if the stranger was going to kill him. He continued to fight against the hand holding his face and one of the other men laughed – a sadistic smile, dirty blond hair. Jongin trembled slightly under the stare. Everything went in slow motion, everything went in fast forward. Jongin couldn’t move. He wanted to call for help, to run, but his back was painfully pinned against the bricks. He caught the blond staring at him and he tried to hide from the dirty eyes. The taller man caught his chin and forced him back.

 

“Don’t hide your pretty little face, we want to see it.”

 

Jongin shook under the words. His legs were about to give way, but he forced himself to stand. The blond crept closer and ran his rough fingers along the edge of Jongin’s jawline. He tried to pull away, but he held him in place. Heart racing and lip trembling, tears started welling in his eyes and his voice broke. Please, please please. The group simply laughed as the taller ran his hand up the inside of the petrified boy’s thigh.

 

Jongin screamed.

 

He screamed, and kicked. It was all useless. The blond was stronger. His voice cracked as tears blurred his vision, and everything went hazy. Fingers tore his jacket off and ran underneath his shirt, touching the cold skin lower and lower. Jongin screamed for them to stop. He cried out as he squirmed helplessly, the strong hands wouldn’t let go. All he heard was the deep but I know you like this. He struggled desperately, he called for Yixing – for Sehun, for anybody. The night was dark, filled with his unheard screams. His t-shirt had ripped, exposing a bruised shoulder and the tall figures were shouting in another language he couldn’t understand. He was scared. He was so…frightened.

 

He kicked out again as he screeched and managed to hit the blond in the knee. He pushed him aside with all his strength, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He found the strength in his legs and pulled himself away.

 

 

Jongin ran.

 

 

 

He ran.

 

 

 

And ran.

 

 

 

 

He didn’t stop.

 

 

Tears flooded his vision, stung his cheeks. He could hear the others chase him, but he didn’t look back. He ran until his legs were shaking and painful. He ran until his lungs were about to break. He ran home, and even though the gang had given up a few blocks ago, he slammed the door shut with a deafening bang and fumbled to lock it with trembling fingers and blurry vision.

 

 

 

He cried.

 

 

 

He just let everything fall.

 

 

 

He didn’t even know why he’d done it – it wasn’t as if Luhan would have been there to help him.

 

 

 

And he had still called his name – screamed it, over and over.

 

 

 

Jongin stared at the portrait above the cabinet.

 

 

 

And he cried until everything hurt – his eyes, his throat, his heart.

 

 

Everything went black.

 

Everything hurt.

 

 

 

---