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Kevin wakes up. It’s his last day of school. He’s groggy but nothing beats down his excitement for this day. The ultimate day, the one he’ll remember for the rest of his life. The metaphorical pedestal he built for himself can finally be seen.

He wipes his clammy hands to his jeans as he makes way down the aisle to the last moment of his high school career. His friends wave and a couple girls wink and he feels like the king of the world.

Top of his class. Captain of the basketball team, owner of an honorable merit scholarship and least but not last, the valedictorian. Not to mention the lady killer of his class. Quite the acquire one’s would think and others would envy.

He loosens the knot of his black tie before having to stand in front of the crowd. A couple dozen eyes are intent on him and his friends cheer him from the back row smiling brightly. He smiles back, warmth filling his heart. This is it. There isn’t a feeling of nervousness that rushes through him as he speaks. It’s languidly and articulate, polite and inspirational. Everyone claps in the end. He has done it. He has done it.

---

Kris wakes up. His head is pounding to invisible drums that makes him want to puke out his guts and rip out his hair. He shuts the alarm of his phone with a knock violent enough to send it to the floor. He isn’t fond of touch screens in the morning; his fingers feel too big for it sometimes. It’s listed alongside a big amount of the man invented that wasn’t made for people like him.

He gets up struggling to keep himself up. If it wasn’t his head to bring him to his knees it would definitely be the weakness he feels on his body. Doctors would blame on his overuse of the medication they prescribed him and he would shut them off with a bad humored growl.

“Two times a day.” The man had set his pills on the table and next to them another a much smaller bottle. “These one’s are for emergencies and emergencies only don’t take them absentmindedly.” He’d warned. “Did I make myself clear? Don’t overdue anything.” Kris had shrugged a smile and picked the containers and gone off the room without another word.

He looks at himself on the mirror and lingers for a good couple minutes. He doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. Hiss face is grey and his eyes lack…something, if not everything. He almost feels like he’s looking at a vision of a ghost. He swallows down as he starts his morning routine based on good skin care, or skin care good enough. He washes his face, brushes his teeth and loads a good amount of bb cream on his fingers to spread it out along his features to make him seem less dead, somehow trying to bring some fake light into his dark expression. He looks himself and when he finds that he’s presentable enough he starts his ritual.

The ritual that has him almost kill himself over.

He goes by the kitchen, the house is silent as usual, and prepares something easy and edible. Every time he steps inside he thinks of Yixing or Minseok and their giggling faces and silly smiles bonding over food and naming their favorite dishes and remembers when Yixing introduced the Korean members to one of his famous, well achieved, crowd pleaser Chinese recipes and their reaction to it. Minseok’s little face had lightened up like a christmas tree and Jongdae had even hugged Yixing. As Kris goes through his memories he almost tastes the dish on his tongue. He smiles to himself before realizing he had cut himself with the bread knife. The red makes him uneasy so he’s quick to wash it off.

He finishes what he was doing and settles everything on a tray and goes over to Chanyeol’s room. He doesn’t bother to knock anymore. He’s fully aware the boy will be awakened. With a bit of struggle he pushes the door’s handle with his elbow and pushes himself in. He was right and Chanyeol’s seated on the edge of the bed by the window just eyeing whatever Kris hasn’t still figured out. Chanyeol is practically always gazing up and out the window whenever he makes his way in and Kris almost wonders if the boy ever shifts or breaks from that position, and there are times he even catches Chanyeol muttering to himself but it’s way too quiet for Kris to decipher.

He sets the tray aside on the table and makes his way near Chanyeol putting a hand on his shoulder. The boy is quick to glance at Kris in surprise.

“Baekhyun?” And there it is, the part of the day when Kris wants to jump and end everything. Chanyeol’s expression changes to a sad one when he realizes he isn’t Baekhyun and Kris’ heart clenches. It aches. So much sometimes he’s bewildered how he even holds on.

“It’s me Chan.” He says softly squeezing Chanyeol’s shoulder and settling himself in front of the boy.

“Where’s Baekhyun?” Kris sighs. It’s all over again. Always the same question and Kris has run out of answers.

“He’s not here Channie.” He says.

“Why not?”

“He went out with Jongdae.” He lies.

“Why didn’t he take me with him?” His eyes look so genuinely sad it makes Kris want to hug him and cry. Just cry and scream and just, just…

“He…” He tries to think of any lie consistent even knowing it won’t matter. “He needed Jongdae to help him with some stuff.” He smiles halfheartedly.

“Oh.” And Chanyeol doesn’t say anything else and Kris is thankful. Now he has a more difficult task on his hands. To get food inside him. Chanyeol has lost so much weight Kris is even scared to hold his hand afraid he might break. Kris himself has gotten a lot weaker but he doesn’t care for himself and he always happens to manage a couple meals to get him through.

He goes by the table and picks the tray to set it beside Chanyeol on the bed. He picks up a small slice of bread with some jam on top of it and brings it close to Chanyeol’s face.

“Here. Eat something Channie.” He motions closer to his mouth and Chanyeol looks at him disgusted.

“I’m not hungry.” Kris sighs again. Why he thought this was going to be easier than the day before still surprises him.

“Please Channie. You need to eat, it has been too long.”

“I’ve eaten yesterday with Baekhyunie and Jongin. I’m fine.” He says sounding nonchalantly and it physically hurts Kris listening to him talking like that, like he’s the usual Chanyeol of before, like he actually went out for kimbab with Baekhyun and Jongin. Like Kris wasn’t there the very previous day and Chanyeol didn’t refuse food just like today, like Chanyeol still lived gripped to the past as if no time had passed.

“Okay but today is a new day and you need to eat because it’s morning.” He lies again. It’s all for the sake of Chanyeol’s health that he contains himself from yelling at him. He has done it before and it only makes things worse so he taught himself to keep it down and controlled.

Chanyeol looks at him seemingly confused but eventually opens his mouth and Kris shoves the most amount of food he can while he can until Chanyeol makes another fit.

Thanking the gods Kris looks down at the tray and when sees he got Chanyeol to eat everything he sighs in relief and somehow adds this day to the good ones.

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“Yifan you need to keep yourself together.” His manager says and he has half a mind to jump across the table and strangle the man.

“What the do you think I’ve been doing? Those s don’t leave my tail. I can’t ing handle it anymore! I have enough on me as it is!” He almost shouts but it doesn’t faze his manager. It’s not the same manager that got them through a lot of the crazy maddening crowds from the airports. Not the same manager that shared a room with Zitao. It’s a whole different man and one Kris has learned to hate by now.

“Don’t get yourself worked up okay? I’m two feet from you.” He says sounding condescending. Kris grinds his teeth. He already feels his hands trembling. He needs to get off somehow and if he doesn’t leave the room soon it’ll be that son of a ’s face the target. “I get it okay?” Kris looks away, his rage building up considerably. That scum has the nerve to day he understands what Kris is going through. “You’re in a bad place but you need to understand that the world keeps on spinning no matter what hazards happen in your life and months have already passed. You owe some words to the press.” He finishes off and before Kris would set his mind to grab his chair and swing it across the other’s face, he gets up, grabs his manager’s computer screen and throws it at the wall instead, startling the man.

“Don’t dare speak to me anytime soon or that will be your face.” He menaces pointing to the shattered computer parts on the floor. He turns on his heels and leaves banging the door behind him.

---

Before going home, back to Chanyeol, back to the living nightmare his life has become, he swings by a near bar to get alcohol running through his veins. He needs it. He just needs something. He usually drinks to forget and this time everything is weighing on him just the more and he feels angry.

Today he drinks almost to the state of passing out before the bartender forbids him of more and sends him off home with a ‘you’ve had enough’. Kris grunts and almost breaks the glass on his hand when he settles it down on the counter a bit too harshly than he should.

“Aah! Isn’t this the part where I blurt out my heart out to you? Just like the movies! And you’ll listen and pat my back and I’ll cry pathetically?” He laughs cynically. Behind his half lidded, half blurred out eyes he can see the bartender giving him a pointed look. He’s obviously not finding it as funny as Kris is. “Come on. You’ll be surprised with my story. I’m serious! It’s good! And it’s funny! So funny!” He laughs some more before he frowns when he realizes the bartender is gone. “Hey! Man you are one mean bartender!” He spits and spins around his stool to get down when the man, barely older than himself, is suddenly by his side. “Oh! There you are!” He smiles again. “Are you taking me home?” He asks swinging an arm over the man’s shoulder. “I don’t usually do this you know but since you’re cute…” He laughs as he pats the bartender’s cheek. He almost chokes on his hiccup as the other helps him to the door. When they reach the man let’s go of him and pushes him away.

“Out!” The man spats.

Kris almost falls stumbling on his feet but is quick, although awkward, to regain his balance. He turns around to fight the bartender off but when he does the man had already closed the door on him. He almost urges yelling swears at the door but stops before doing so and takes a figuratively look at himself taking in on how pathetic he is and on how demeaning he has become.

He gathers the remnants of proud he has and wanders off the streets before calling a cab to go home.

---

When he’s back it’s already night. He lost track of the time he got walking and only realized what he was doing when he started to sober on. He takes a small trip to Chanyeol’s room and peeks through the door. And there he is. In the same place he left him this morning looking up at the sky through his window. He can tell the boy is speaking but he can’t make out the words. Yifan closes the door and muffles a sob. He can’t take it as he breaks down and cries. He just cries falling on his knees, half hanging on the wall next to him. He lets the tears unroll down his cheeks silently with his forehead leaned against the surface of the wall. He wants to scream but no sound comes out. He almost chokes on the air and he can’t breathe. His chest hurts too much. So much he clenches on the fabric of his shirt trying faintly to keep his heart from bursting. He lets himself sink down to the floor where he curls on himself and just cries. Because that’s the last thing he can do when nothing else works. When everything just becomes too much.

---

Kris wakes up on the floor feeling hangover and sick to his stomach, like his insides are battling themselves. He barely makes it to the bathroom before he’s throwing up hunched over the sink. His hands are shaking and he knows he needs his medication. He needs the “happy pills”. The pills that make the realization of the hole inside his heart seem smaller despite the short termed effect. Despite not making it go away Kris still feeds on it and it’s thanks to them he can still come out and be Kris, the strong minded duizhang that only crinkled his eyebrows when confronted by Yixing’s witty remarks or his gege’s silly behavior. Without them he’s back to being Yifan. And Kris can’t handle being Yifan. Not anymore. Being Yifan means he’s weak and scarred and dead. Yifan died and Kris doesn’t want him back. He doesn’t need him back. He has to keep strong, if not for the sake of keeping himself alive at least for the sake of keeping Chanyeol alive.

He fumbles around his cabinet and realizes he’s out of meds. Panic starts to arise from him. He picks his phone from his pocket and speed dials his doctor for an urgent consult. He can hear the displeased tone on the man’s voice but decides to ignore it.

He gets himself prepped up like usual, showering and brushing his teeth, finishing off nicely with bb cream to drown out the greyish pasty tone of his skin. He dresses something loose to hide his increased loss of weight.  His bones are starting to stick out as much as Chanyeol’s. He would eat to at least look less sickening but his stomach is still wounded up and the smell of food would only make him throw up again.

After he gets all cleaned up he gives Chanyeol a visit. The boy is now standing up and he’s smiling while touching the window’s glass and talking to himself. It would make Kris happy that Chanyeol’s smiling if the image before him wasn’t so painfully sad. He gets close and as he starts to understand Chanyeol’s quiet monologue he halts, not brave enough to interrupt him.

“Baekhyunie’s smile is so beautiful. He’s my best friend. Baekhyunie’s my best friend.” He smiles widely almost fainting a chuckle. “He’s so pretty. I like him so much. He’s so pretty. Baekhyunie’s really pretty. Everyone agrees.” Kris feels himself break down again as he listens to Chanyeol repeat himself word after word and looping around his own sentences, keeping his eyes on the rain drops, that fall through the window, with his finger. He can’t reach out. He’s so close from Chanyeol and he can’t reach out. He can’t close the distance and touch Chanyeol. And even if he could there was still going an ocean keeping them apart. If not an entire breach in time. Because Kris still feels like Chanyeol stopped in time. Stopped and stayed stuck on his life, before that day, forever.

December 21, 2012

Doctors had called it a coping mechanism but Kris only sees a demented and deranged person where once was his best friend. The person he once loved and still loves so much it physically hurts, hurts because he didn’t dare to say anything before. He never said or did anything to reveal his feelings before and now…now he can do absolutely nothing about it, because the person he loves is dead, and so is he. Whatever style of life they’re taking, it can’t be called living. It’s more like postponing death and abide pain the best they can as they do so.

He ends up not saying anything and leaves without Chanyeol even realizing he even stepped inside his room. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Chanyeol wouldn’t remember or choose not to remember the next day. It’s hopeless. Kris finds himself more often than not wanting to just give up and he would, he would, if he didn’t love Chanyeol so much.

He steps outside and the moment he closes the door his knees go weak. He would have sink down to the floor again if he wasn’t supporting himself on the doorknob. He breathes in and picking himself up he makes is way out of the house, a house Lee Soo Man bought for them, far away from nosy media and the noise from the city. He grabs his car keys and awakes his already untuned car to drive off to the doctor. He hasn’t been behind the wheel for almost a year now. It took him a great deal of courage to even step inside a car for the first month only succeeding, even if consumed by fear the whole trip, the second month. After that he only took the occasional taxi drive up to consultations or to see his manager. He breathes deeply as he starts the car. He feels his heart starting to beat faster. He almost has a half a mindset to drive off into a cliff of crash the car against a tank truck but he thinks that’s the last way he wants to die. He starts to worry because his suicidal thoughts are back. Although they never actually left him he can sense every little thing has become a trigger again.

He swallows the lump in his throat and when he realizes he’s been almost half an hour inside his roaring car he decides to unclench the hand brake. He starts off slowly but in no time he’s driving practically past the speed limit in the most part on the road. He’s feeding in the adrenaline rush that it is giving him. It almost works as a natural sedative. If the doctors were to complain he would claim it as a coping mechanism even knowing they would frown at him for it.

When he gets there it’s basically all he gets from the doctor. A frown. And a deep furrowed one as he looks into Kris’ exams. Stupidly Kris thought the doctor wouldn’t even have those anymore.

“I’m not giving you any more medication Yifan.” The doctor says and the mention of his name itches his skin as if it felt foreign, as if it didn’t belong to him.

“Why not?”

“That bottle was supposed to last at least a month and it lasted less than two weeks.” He poises the sheet on the table. Kris groans. He was busier urging for more pills that he’d forgotten they kept track of this type of thing.

“I was…down…I needed them. And I need more now. Please.” He sounds desperate but he doesn’t care by now. “I promise to go easier on it.”

“No. You know how many people get addicted to anti depressives?” It was rhetorical but Kris nodded negatively on instinct anyways. “Too much. You’ll end up dying if you keep this up.”

“I’m dying nonetheless. The sooner the better.” He regrets having said it. The doctor shoots him a look.

“I see.” He seems to be muttering over something and Kris doesn’t like the look on his face. He regrets coming altogether.

“I’m fine Dr. I just need something to keep me from punching someone.”

“Then buy a punching bag.”

“No…I need…” He groans again because his doctor is obviously mocking him. “The pills. Just give me the pills.” His voice is angrier than he feels.

“How often do you feel angry?”

“All the time. Why does that matter? Isn’t it normal? I’m fine! I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Barely.” It shoots down on his chest as he realizes he isn’t fooling anyone. It’s probably visible all over him, he even saw it in the weekly magazine, the fuss of the media over his disappearance and his loss of weight and how they speculate of Chanyeol having ending his life already. It all just makes him even angrier. No one leaves them alone. “I’m prescribing you another type of pills and assigning you for a psychiatrist again. I believe it could help you channelize the anger you feel.”

“I don’t need that-”

“You’re really in no position to argue or evaluate your needs so I would appreciate if you’d shut up and obey. If not I can and will assign a personal nurse to monitor you and Chanyeol, which I should’ve done right in the beginning.” Kris keeps quiet while the doctor scribbles down something. “How are his hallucinations?”

“I don’t know if you can even call it hallucinations anymore. He doesn’t see anything. He just keeps talking to himself and he just…stays there. Stuck.” Kris swallows the bitter that touches his tongue trying to get the lump out of his throat.

“I see. I shall pay him a visit and get a better diagnose. I’ll get him assigned to a psychiatrist as well.”

“Isn’t it enough what we go through? Is that really necessary?” He tries to bargain again.

“This is to help you Yifan. The soon you realize that the better.”

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Am I any good at sad stories? ^^

I was listening to this song while writing it: Time Forgets

I hope you guys like my story. <3