||Error 404, please refresh page.||

What do you plan on doing today? A beep resounded through your empty apartment. You hurried to the living room, picking up the phone off your coffee table. You were making lunch. Today is your day off, and you had gladly slept in.

Nothing, why? You hit send and went back into the kitchen to continue to stir fry your chicken. You didn’t hear the beep, but when you came back to check, there was a new text message lighting up your notification screen. I want to go on a date. Are you free?

You laughed and began to text back. To what honor do I owe his majesty a date? Dumped again?

I didn’t even like her. You only shook your head to his response. He was a co-worker, friend, and only source of socialization. Also a brat who likes to be taken care of, but that was beside the point. He’s bratty every day, it’s nothing new.

Sure, sure. :P

You went back into the kitchen to gather your food, eating in front of the T.V was more your style than sitting alone in the dining room.

I DIDN’T! Honestly. Anyway, are you coming or not? I’ll treat. ^^ You can already hear the pout in his voice. If you went, all you would hear is whining and complaints. It’s like this every time he gets dump—and that’s very often.

Well, since you’re offering food for free…why not?

Awesome! I’ll see you at six.

And maybe it wasn’t up and down and right round and round. Maybe there’s a backward motion, maybe a slight tempo change…an electric backtrack instead of smooth piano melodies playing at the local stand across from the horsies’ stand.

Only, these things were often unnoticed because they rarely happened and happened too fast. That’s the beauty of modern day technology, after all. It’s simple, so simple that you can’t even see the hurt you try to conceal with powders and minerals. It’s just a snap of a finger and you’re back on track with nothing but the wind blowing against your face—artificial wind—to keep it classy.

If only things were as simple, because they aren’t and never will be. The world is a living ball of oceans, lands, lies, and contradictions, after all.

Oh, and Ray, I expect you to dress up classy cause we’re going to McDonalds…

And then you laugh, because yes, the chinks in the armors make you die easier and quicker. Maybe it’s painful to let go, but you’re titanium and it just sort of hurts but the pain takes form of bullets and ricochet off and it’s all good. After all, a mirror shatters, but the pieces still reflect the inner demon that is the humans’ minds.

•••

Nothing really makes sense—Jaejoong knows this, knows this well. But of course, there always has to be someone who brings back that realness, that bit of truth he’s been evading. And it doesn’t help when he’s madly in love with said person, avoiding is never the solution, but he doesn’t want to remember.

“Give me straight answers.” If he had demanded that, would it make him selfish? Selfish because he asks but never wants to remember? It does, doesn’t it? But he’s lost, beyond the point of shame and he doesn’t have a shred of dignity left. No, he doesn’t, he’s as hollow inside as he is outside.

Instead, he places a hand on Yunho’s cheek and wipes away the strand tear that fell. And he feels bad, feels guilt. Although he has no pride, no shame, guilt was still ever so present and eating away at his body, asking for eternal damnation.

And if he believed in heaven and hell, he would be damned, but the White was all he asked for and what he’s going to get. No heaven, no hell, just no longer existing, because he wants to forget. Forget, forgetting, forgotten. That’s how it works—how it always had work and will continue to play.

“I know.” He doesn’t know, but he says he does. That’s just how he works, that’s how they function, and that’s why they’re falling apart. All the reasons as to why, but never how, and he thinks it’s silly. But it’s true and right now, he doesn’t want truth, he want lies and to forget. That’s all he asks, because the truth hurt, but lies are double edged daggers that he aims at himself. It just works that way. It is how it began and how it’ll end. Lies are the one way ticket to hell. But he wants to remember, so it cancels that factor out and now he’s being sent to White. He’s on the waiting list, being checked in as soon as three months’ time is over. Three months. It’s just three measly months, half of six, a quarter of a year, and then he dies.

Here comes the nightmare train, polar express to the land of make believe and leafless trees, just as the wind shakes the earth up and it splits into two—the wind, not the earth. But it might as well be Earth tearing halfway through equator. Yes—maybe that. Maybe just that, it’s what they need…maybe it’s what we’re all waiting for.

Heaven, hell, and the White—isn’t that right? Isn’t it grand? Isn’t it noble? Humans, oh dear, humans just trying to jump from one train to the next and it’s a mess of decapitated heads and pig blood because that’s all we are if you count us as the sloths we are. In the end, the factors of life outlaw the death penalties we uphold because that’s the way the wind blows and the sun sets. It’s just because, never how, just why.

“BooJae,” for a moment, the name sounded so affectionate, but he remembers, and it hurts to remember. “I love you.” Maybe it was then that the red flags shot up—slow down! Stop! And what else could Jaejoong do but smile regardless of the memories? What…why? Now, there’s no how, not even why. Everyone’s lost, so lost. But what else can you do. Hit play, pause, rewind, and fast forward. Is that all? No more options just double the speed for fast motion and slow motion. How many frames can a video camera capture? Not the plain emotions Jaejoong felt—no matter what. He remembers, he smiles, and when Yunho leaves, he’ll cry and die alone.

“I know.” He couldn’t tell Yunho he loved him—he didn’t. There was just so much going through his brain, frantically calling shots and the next thing you know, everyone dies. Life goes on forever, but forever ends at some point. And he can’t keep promises, no, that was Yunho’s thing. It was Yunho’s profession to keep and break all promises. Promises scared Jaejoong; commitment never went his way and ended well. It was just a blur of colors and you know what? There isn’t much he can do. He won’t love someone forever, because forever will end within three months’ time and the White isn’t as generous as it’s portrayed to be. It never has been a generous place, it’s perhaps worse than hell, but there’s no pain. We all forget there…that’s why we were sent there—to forget and disappear permanently.

At the end of the day, the world still spins and we all are idiots waiting to jump off bridges in hope of salvation. There isn’t any salvation…just the plain ironic cries of innocent children who no longer can hide beneath the façade of forgetfulness. Excuses, excuses, and more excuses don’t add up evenly.

But it was quite alright, because for some reason, children are protected from all evil acts but then later, once their innocence fades, they are no longer shielded and protected. Oh—the irony of it all.

“Do you want me to leave? Am I unwanted?” Yunho’s voice had always been calm—he was never calm, he had missed Jaejoong so much. The reasons for leaving are plentiful, but the only reason for staying was Jaejoong, and that would out rule all the other factors, but it’s risky. Too risky, and the two of them couldn’t take any risks, couldn’t afford any mistakes. Too bad life is full of them, they’re like minefields, so unavoidable, yet it all relies on luck if you dig deep enough into the psychological theory of the entire world. Brain games and theories are all that’s left to a world like ours. The thirst for power is strong too—but that falls under the brain game category.

And sometimes, people pretend to know that they’re walking on safe land, and not five inches above explosives. But they don’t know and that’s the reason why we all die—mistakes and minefields. Expecting the unexpected makes the usual slip by.

Jaejoong’s breaths were coming in short, quiet gasps, and he wants someone to tell him it’s okay, that what he’s about to say isn’t the wrong decision. “No,” he was already regretting showing any form of attachment, any form of promising, “I want you to stay.” I love you, so much, but you can’t understand. You won’t.

“I know.” The tone Yunho uses makes Jaejoong burst into tears—because it’s too late. Love was there, attachment and empty promises—he’s been giving them all along. “I know.” Yunho repeated again, his words sounding even softer than before, and Jaejoong just cries and hangs onto Yunho like he’s his life line. And he was.

“I’m sorry.” He’s crying a lot, too many times past his limit.

“I know.” And it’s always I know, always.

•••

Back and forth, the chinks in the armor seem to become bigger—death sounding its bell, metal banging loudly against wooden swords.

“Don’t talk to me, you peasant.” You were laughing—laughing very loudly. First love never last, then what about second love?

“Definitely—you should be banned from all forms of social networking.” You joked; this impromptu date was going well. Just well, and well it will be from now on.

“Anyway, I, the great Kim Jongin, will be single from now on.” Jongin, your co-worker, death’s mercenary, was laughing and joking about his failed love life. Every time he gets dumped, it’s always you who he comes running to. He is supposedly popular, but if you think about it, you’re his only friend.

“Great! How many times have you said that this year? Eighty-something times?” You didn’t have a love life—his was complicated enough for the both of you. You were friends—just friends. Remember that not everything goes well, but the date is going well.

It’s a hangout, to be honest, but a date it has been called and will most probably be called until forever.

There was so much flying through your head—down, up, and over. What does that even mean? What does anything ever existing mean anymore? There’s so little to know…so little to find out.

“I’m just too hot for them to handle,” and you would laugh, but you didn’t this time. This time, you felt the urge to run, but not knowing why. There was nothing around that was particularly threatening, other than Jongin and the bottle of beer he was itching to order. Alcoholic…addiction—the one and only reason as person would leave the ever-perfect Kim Jongin.

“I don’t think so.” It came out breathy, as if you’ve just ran miles after miles, but there was a thick layer of panic coating your words, enough for the usually oblivious Jongin to notice.

“Is something bugging you?” Maybe you were making it too obvious. Lately, you’ve been extra obvious. Breathing just got harder, you felt those imaginary hands wrapping around your neck again. You pulled at your shirt’s collar, feeling a bit too uncomfortable in the loose neck hole. You swallowed, but it was stuck, and you felt it. Your breathing hitched, and then settled into its usual pattern. You were entranced by the beauty of the lights, your mind floating off into a different planet.

“Maybe…” Jongin left it at that, and that’s why you’re such good friends. He doesn’t pry; you don’t stop him from ordering a second beer. Maybe it was a rebound—you weren’t the rebound though, Jongin was. A little mirror reflecting yourself, although alcohol wasn’t your problem, life was.

And even then, life wasn’t the thing that made you want to kill yourself. Life was the thing that was hard to keep—maybe it’s the urge to parish into dust that’s a bit morbid, a bit disturbing.

Or a lot disturbing, you didn’t know anymore, but Jongin was talking and had ordered a third beer, all the lights were making you dizzy and there’s a strange man in the corner of the shop, wearing coat not fitting for the cool, June air.

Fear was overtaking you, it was hard to swallow, but you stopped thinking—it wasn’t a good idea to think anymore. No, thinking lead to thoughts that were anything but about keeping yourself alive.

Quite the opposite, but you sat still, watching Jongin ruin his life, not saying a word. He was staring at you too, watching you slowly kill yourself, just as he was. And that’s why you were friends…both of you were bound to die young.

•••

“What is this?” Jaejoong thought it was morning—yeah, sure, it was morning. He didn’t like keeping track of days, because he’ll count down the days to his death.

“A card,” Yunho responded to the rather obvious question.

“What’s it for?” Jaejoong tried again, and he almost wanted to ask what time it was, but he couldn’t.

“Your birthday,” Yunho once again replied in that flat monotone of his. It always made Jaejoong think—what charm does Yunho’s voice have? Nothing but that flat, bored sounding track playing again on a scratched record bought at the 99 cent store, that’s what.

“My birthday was five months ago, Yunho.” Jaejoong was pointing out the obvious, but that was alright, because Yunho is used to it.

“I know…this is for next year.” Something in Yunho’s voice was relative to emotions, but it wasn’t, because it sounded dead as usual. His eyes, however, were beautiful, and Jaejoong remembered that was why he fell in love with Yunho. Eyes that said everything, but only to Jaejoong, because everyone else doesn’t see it the way Jaejoong did.

“I…” the wet tears swelled in his eyes, again. It reminded him of all the time ticking ever so slowly for him. Three months—the words he hated the most, and if he could, he would live on. It never interested him, the matters of living and dying. He only knew there was a place his soul would wander off to, whether it is good or bad. He was just curious, he wasn’t explorative.   

February, that’s the month Yunho was born in. Jaejoong wished he could give something too, because it hurts to not be able to do anything. Weak, dead—almost dead, he corrected himself. But he might as well be dead.

I’m going to die. The thought was sinking in, all over again, but the pain wasn’t as deep, instead it hurts in a different way. Not physically, no, it was never physical. It wasn’t a mental breakdown like the last, but a sort of realization. It was a feeling Jaejoong couldn’t all too well describe, like a dream, but it was definitely there.

The feeling of regret, maybe it was that. Regret was always something he felt. Regardless of ­­­­­­whose fault it was, or what was done. It was always regret.  Forget it. And he almost forgot.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen,” Yunho’s voice came alive, rather than that boring drone of his, concern, of all emotions, was shown. It seeped through the words, it flashed in his eyes, and he was shaking.

“I’m listening,” Jaejoong’s voice wasn’t as shaky as he had imagined it to be.

“I’m here for you. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me,” worry, concern, feelings were showing in Yunho’s voice, in his face, in his every expression and move. What? Confusion, this was the first for him. It was the first for anyone, to be honest…completely honest, at that.

“I know.” There, another I know. Jaejoong doesn’t, he knows fully well he can’t deal with himself, he just can’t. It wasn’t him, oh no, it wasn’t him that was at fault. Maybe his thoughts or maybe those damned three months. He doesn’t know and he just can’t.

Yunho’s staring at Jaejoong, expecting another answer. He stares so hard, he starts to see the blurry lines, indicating he’s focusing too hard. His brain is tired, and he just wants Jaejoong to say the things he felt. Yunho knew a lot more than Jaejoong does, and he knows that Jaejoong’s keeping one too many secrets bolted up inside of him. It’s not healthy, but nothing’s healthy anymore. Especially when there’s only three months’ of air left for Jaejoong, especially since his cheeks are bright pink and his skin pale gray.

It wasn’t fair—but he hated people who couldn’t accept reality, so maybe it is fair. Maybe this is his punishment for leaving Jaejoong, although he couldn’t see the reason as to why Jaejoong has to die. He’s suffered once too many.

His mother, although she seems completely self-centered, cared for Jaejoong, even if he doesn’t believe it. She may rub him the wrong way—she did abandon him if Yunho’s memories served him correctly—and maybe she doesn’t deserve to call herself his mother. But there was so much more to the story than Jaejoong will ever know. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his mother’s fault, and it was no one’s fault, really. Besides life, but life and love were the origin of this mishap, so saying it wasn’t its fault is practically pouring water on an empty table. Runny, if it rings any bell in your mind. But of course it doesn’t, only Jaejoong knows what it means and he’s forgetting everything right now, these memories would serve him no good.

Perhaps he’ll remember it before they burn his body in White, or maybe not. There’s so many holes left behind, and Yunho just couldn’t fill them up with his lies. Not anymore, no, Jaejoong’s forgetting the lies Yunho fed him and he’s bound to remember the nasty things he shouldn’t have.

Hopefully, the White will kill him painlessly, while Yunho will suffer in hell for the rest of eternity. It’s only fair, after all.

“I’m just hurting and confused.” That’s all Jaejoong said and being the good lover he was, Yunho didn’t pry, even though it was killing him as well. Cancer is such a bitter word, such an unpleasant sound it makes. The vowels never are together in the end, and if they are, the sound is hard and weird. It’s just the formula of life, one could say. But one could also say, “Damn—no more tomorrow for you,” and sound absolutely hilarious. What is hilarity? Does anyone with a humorous mind know? Yunho does, and Jaejoong does too, if he’d remember. But he doesn’t, so he’s considered normal, and that’s all it takes for humans to forget. Forget—just forget me. Forget—don’t chase after me. I’m a butterfly, so lost, so don’t chase me. Baby I’m burning in hell, forget, just forget this old butterfly.

And the butterfly has never looked so helpless and sad before.

Author's Note-

I just finished the story and am revising it from beginning to end. Six chapters is all I have and the ending is a big mess of feelings and confessions and butterflies. I totally did not plan this, but oh well, I don't plan anything in general. Is it really chapter three already? I feel so accomplished because I've never written anything in advance and sort of planned things...sort of.

But anyway, please look forward to my last three chapters and don't hate me for the ending! I WANT COMMENTS. I LOVE READING THEM. EVEN THOUGH MOST OF THEM ARE JUST COMPLAINTS. I WAAAANT THEM.

/coughs

Please ignore me. Okay...don't ignore me. I'm a very indecisive person if you couldn't tell.

Bye! Next chapter will be posted on Wednesday.