Alien. Strange. Old. WTF.

These were the words to describe Lee Jinki. How many other young adults would stop a Ke$ha song half-way, and claimed that the song was “not good”? On top of it, who would not be able to name an F.T Island song, and yet, knew every word to every trot song out there? 

Kibum stared in bewilderment as the strange creature before him sung a 70's song with as much enthusiasm as he had ever seen, and danced like no one had ever danced before. The karaoke room was dark, with lights flashing everywhere, and while Kibum’s mind screamed “club atmosphere”, apparently, in Jinki’s mind, it was some sort of disco joint.

Jinki laughed as he sat down, out of breath, his hair plastered to his face. At this instant, he looked like a little kid as he rocked back and forth. A silly grin dominated his face, turning his eyes into mere slits. 

“Ew, you’re sweating!” Kibum said as he shoved Jinki aside playfully. He liked the way his boyfriend’s – he chuckled to himself at the word - chest was raising and falling as he gulps in breaths, looking like he just ran a marathon. The way his hair was sticking out in every direction. The way his shirt looked against his body frame, hugging and clinging onto his dampened skin. 

“You’re staring,” Jinki grinned, reaching out to pull on Kibum’s hair. Ever since they started going out more, these casual moments became a regular habit. A brush here, a teasing tug there. It was simple, really nothing more. But Kibum knew these were the moments he would remember. 

“Only because you look gross.”

“It’s your turn to sing.”

He shook his head, “I don’t feel like singing anymore.”

“There’s something else we could do.”

Before his mind could register the suggestive remark, Jinki’s lips brushed against his own. It was light and somewhat hesitant, as if asking for permission. Their breaths mingled, and he could smell the grape soda that they down gulped down earlier to combat the thirstiness brought on by the hours of singing. He liked the way their lips felt when touched together, silken skin moved and molded to fit. His heart sped up, thudding loudly against his chest, and he knew Jinki’s own erratic heart was adding to the underlying beat of his own. 

It was a slow pull. A slowing of time, a new discover with each second. Kibum had always been unsure of what people did with their hands, where did you place it? How would you move to fit? But none of those questions surfaced now. It was instinct. Their melded and fitted together. 

And when they pulled away, faces mirrored identical grins. They knew. With just one touch and they knew what it was like to fall in love, it was simple as that. There were so bangs, no bells and whistles. Time didn’t stop, like the first time they met when Kibum felt that instant attraction. It wasn't even as nerve-wrecking or exciting when the attraction deepened into a "like". Instead of electric sparks and skin tingles, the feeling of love wrapped around them like a comfortable blanket. It was because they had been expecting it, and they knew it was bound to happen. A single brush of the hands, hands that belonged together -- entwined, fingers lacinga together like their inseparable silken bond. Those three words, though difficult to say, escaped before they noticed; with reddened faces, they said it again -- and again until their hearts accepted and connected. And both knew moments such as these do not come often, knew enough to treasure them, and knew enough to be thankful for them.

“I love you.”

It was out before it was too late.

"Kibum," Jinki started.

"I know it's too early for you. You don't have to say it back yet."

Jinki nodded and linked their hands together, "Well, I'm slow, as we both know. But I like you, Kibum."

And that was enough for now.

..


Jinki sat, dazed. The words blended together into one continuous line of black ink that marched across the page. He didn’t know what to make of them.

“Jinki?”

He looked up, smiled, “hey.”

“Can I sit here?” she asked.

He nodded, moving his things over for her. The library was crowded around this time, with everyone’s attention focused on their books. Too bad his mind was somewhere else, but he didn’t mind the distraction - especially since that distraction was so sweet. Even now, when Kibum was nowhere near him, something that was new and startling still coursed through his system. Someone should have told him how great love was earlier, he felt like he had been missing out.

Someone coughed and he jumped, his attention brought back to the girl sitting across from him, studying him quizzically.

“Something wrong?” Jinki asked. He frowned. 

“My friend’s boyfriend…I think he’s cheating on her.”

“What? Why?” He searched his mind for any helpful suggestions but came up with blank. “I’m sure there’s got to be some other explanation.”

“No. My friend caught them, and she sent me the picture.” Hara dug into her purse. “Here.”

He didn’t even know who Hara’s friend was, and though Jinki didn’t feel like getting involved in someone else’s business, he didn’t know how to refuse without further upsetting her. So he obliged and looked at the picture on her phone when his own vibrated. 

Jinki froze, the simple text in the small letter screamed out at him; he could feel his blood run cold.

“Is that Kibum?” Hara demanded, moving around in her seat to get a better look at his phone. “Did he just text you? Are you guys all lovely dovey now?”

What was there to say?

“Excuse me.” Jinki hastily stood up, bowed, and ran off.

Hara tried to call after him, but she couldn’t raise her voice in the library. Did he know he took her phone with him? Gathering her things together, she got up and followed. 

..


He tried, really tried, but he couldn’t resist the urge to scream, to rage, at nothing and at everything. Why was it like this? How did it happen? It was overnight and out of the blue, so many questions were left unanswered when they hung up. Kibum could do nothing but walked as fast as he could, the closer he was, the sooner he would get his answers. Minho was grim beside him, and both Jonghyun and Taemin gave him indulgent smiles, like they were trying to reassure but weren’t sure how. Taemin’s smile widened as he pointed to where Jinki stood, waiting for him. There was an expression in his eyes that grabbed Kibum’s attention first – that same doomed expression that probably mirrored his own.

This wasn’t the time. As much as it cheered him up to see Jinki waiting for him, he didn’t feel like being around anyone right now. If his friends hadn’t been with him when he got the news through the phone call, he would have tried to avoid them, too. But alas, they stuck to him like glue, hoping that their presence would bring him some comfort.

He didn’t see it the other coming until Jinki all but almost slammed into him. 

“Can I talk to you?”

Kibum lifted his chin, “now’s not a good time.”

“When would it be a good time, then?”

“Jinki, please. I can’t talk to you right now.”

“I got your text.”

Kibum raised a brow in confusion. The one he sent Jinki this morning about picking him up at school? Why was he bringing that up right now? “Look, I know what I said,” he tried to reason. “And I’m sorry but I can’t talk to you right now.”

“Fine, bye Kibum.”

There was ice in the older’s tone. Anger, suppressed, but it was there. It wasn’t distress that caused Jinki’s voice to sound like a sharp blade - it was anger, full forced, and it was directed at him. Kibum didn’t know why, so what if he needed a bit of time to himself? Did he really have to explain it to Jinki? He saw Jonghyun moving towards them, the first to react, but he shook his head. 

“What’s wrong?” Taemin asked from where the three still stood, studying Jinki’s retreating back curiously.

“I have no idea,” Kibum mumbled. But he didn’t have the time to deal with it right now. He had to get to the hospital.

..


She looked so frail. How come he hadn’t noticed? Her body was thin, made smaller by the blanket that was pulled to her chin. There were wires and tubes connected to her, a machine that made small bleeps, and some sort of artificial oxygen had to be fed to her system. He knelt on the bed, took her small hand in his and wept.

Ever since he had been a child, her hands were always associated with warmth and love: hands that would cover his own; hands that were sturdy and reliable. When had he outgrown these hands? 

He didn’t even notice her deepened wrinkles, or how much her eyes had sunken in. He couldn’t let those thoughts get to him. He had to believe that she’d be okay, that she’d wake up and his head, like she always did. He had to think positive. 

“Halmeoni,” Kibum murmured, “please be okay. I can’t…not without you.”

Someone’s hand was on his shoulder, and someone’s voice shook behind him. He knew they were his parents. But it wasn’t enough. As much as he loved his own parents, it wasn’t the same. There was a special love for someone who was willing to stay up with him late at night, discussing the latest adventures of a particular super hero to world’s politics. For someone who knew he didn’t want stew when he was sick, or encouraged him to follow his dreams regardless of what they were. For the one who ate the outside crust of bread and gave him the inside. 

For someone who knew his first love wasn’t conventional, but would never judge. For someone who accepted and loved him – inside and out, unconditionally; because she was the only one who knew and understood him so completely.

..

"Let's break up" 

It didn’t make any sense. Jinki hadn’t been willing to accept the text that came without a reason, but there wasn’t any explanation for Kibum’s behavior, either. Was it a joke? Kibum wasn't someone who would say I love you to him one day and text let's break up the next. Who was behind all of this? Then again, maybe he should have guessed since Kibum was anything but normal. The boy was erratic. 

But no matter how much he told himself not to hope, Jinki knew he couldn’t believe the text. Not until Kibum told him face to face. Once his system settled by that thought, Jinki frowned at his cat napping on the carpet.

“Something’s wrong,” he mumbled to himself. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

His doorbell rang, and he had to drag himself up to answer. The guy on the other side handed him a paper envelope, bid him goodnight and walked off before he could ask where it was from. 

Jinki dumped the contents on his coffee table and shifted through each one, his hand shook and he felt his breathing thinned. Well, damn. The pictures were of Kibum. He was posing provocatively in one picture and in a compromising position with another guy in the next. Jinki’s eyes hardened so that they gleamed like stones. Kim Kibum didn’t want to talk to him? Well, too ing bad.

--

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