Wasted and Still Wasting Away

“Kyungsoo."

He glances up and meets my stare. My eyes travel along the smoothness of his face and distinctly take note of the overwrought state of his muscles and those bruises. His lips bend up to greet me with gentleness.

It looks painful so why is he smiling?

“I’m okay, Jongin.”

Empty words. I vaguely notice his lips moving, probably busy spouting unoriginal things to somehow make me feel at ease. I squint and glare; I don’t give a flying about his lame excuses. Can’t he see that I know?

“This needs to stop.”

A flicker of something morphs his kind gaze. It's a sudden touch so unexpected and fleeting it may have been nothing but an illusion or make-believe. Does he understand now?

“No Jongin, it’s not that simple. I can’t leave.”

His words bounce painfully as my lungs suddenly feel clogged by a thickness I don’t recognize. Have I been inhaling smoke? It feels like every breath is a chore and my air passages are obstructed by conspiracies against me.

He can’t leave he says, but does he want to? Why can’t he walk away? Is it for the same reason as mine? Is it because he really loves that guy so much he doesn’t give a ing damn about all those bruises and smashed pieces of him clattering the floor?

“Why?” I find my voice betraying me. I’ve thrown the ball yet I know I won’t have the guts to catch it back. How ing coward of me.

“It’s because I love—”

“Stop,” I cut with desperation. I know. Stupid Jongin, you already know it so what the is that question for?

“You… you love him,” I whisper and it’s an irony how I’ve stopped him just moments ago yet it is me who has summarized his answer in the end.

Kyungsoo nods so very subtly and his eyes are like tainted glass ready to shatter. Or maybe they are mirrors because I’m sure the dejection I see there is so much identical to the misery I have in mine.

His lips are warm and soft, so inviting and so addicting. Few more pecks and breaths and I'm all consumed.

“Jongin,” I hear him sigh.

That’s my name, but it may as well be the most beautiful melody in the world. Kyungsoo’s voice undoes me every time; it enslaves me and everything he says is like blood that circulates all over my body.

I live for this moment. I live for his intoxicating kisses and his sweet voice calling my name and...

“I love you.”

Him speaking declarations and promises of love.

I wonder if it’s the same for that guy; I wonder if Kyungsoo is the same to him. God, why can’t it be just me? Why can’t it be just Kyungsoo and me?

My hand starts caressing his delicate cheek as I close my eyes. I feel him lean in to my touch and my heart rejoices. It is bliss.

“I love you so much, Kyungsoo,” I whisper, my nose skimming along the fineness of his jaw, breathing in deeply to try and take in as much essence of him as I can. I know this is a possessive stunt yet I can't help my smile when I feel him relax. He likes this; I like it too.

He winces a little when my other hand ventures out to explore other areas of his body and I'm instantly reminded of the ugly truth once again. Gathering my wits to speak, I find my voice soaring to plead and my vivid emotions come marching like brave soldiers out in the front line.

“Please, don’t come to him anymore.”

Maybe he feels it for I sense his reluctant yet firm nod seconds later. He looks straight to my eyes with the same pleading gaze I’m sure I also have, almost as if he’s probing and searching for something deeply buried inside my soul. Does he see it? Can he see it?

I watch the same curl start to play along those lips before his answer comes. I hear the doubtful smile in his tender voice.

“We’ll... I’ll try.”

Betrayal—that’s what dominates my thoughts as I look at him. It burns like wildfire in my chest and it makes me sick with implausible doubts. How come there are new purple discolorations on his body again?

“Why?”

Somehow I feel like I’ve been asking this question a lot—running in ing circles that doesn't really let my feet reach anywhere.

“Jongin,” he murmurs with feeble and hoarse voice. He has been crying. Kyungsoo, why? “You know it’s not that simple,” he says.

It's the same answer and I'm seriously getting tired of it. I know it’s not simple okay. Since when has it been simple? There’s no ing simplicity in knowing he loves me but he loves him too.

“Leave him. Why don’t you just leave him?” I ask and I know he recognizes the fraught tone clipped to my words.

“I wish I can,” he responds with a defeated voice as he smiles that heart-breaking smile again. I hate that smile. I abhor it to death because I know it’s weak and it’s one of the things that breaks him. Apart from that ing bastard who beats him to , that is.

Just why?

“Leave him, Kyungsoo. He is breaking you! Leave him, please. Kyungsoo, please,” I beg.

He winces and cries out a strangled moan. I furrowed my brows—I'm a little confused—and look at my hand clutching his arm tightly. What? No! No, stop Kyungsoo. You are not supposed to cry because of me. Stop, I don’t mean to.

“I’m sorry,” comes the mumble of my resignation as I weakly plop down on the hardness of the floor. It's sorrow at first and then it becomes cowardice the next, which is such an incongruous thing given my prior plea. Nevertheless it's there, they're all there—pain and agony and misery.

“I'm so sorry, I just… Please, Kyungsoo.”

I feel him kneel down beside me as he gathers me in his arms, letting me cry my helplessness and hopelessness out.

“Ssshh, I understand. It's okay,” he exhales so close to my ear. “I love you.”

There is a choke of madness escaping my lips, thoughts of how ed-up things have become plaguing my mind like the cruel rust aching to be deposited onto an unsuspecting metal.

Maybe that’s what we are—rust and metal. Maybe that's what they are too. Or maybe we’re all just sickly connected by some twisted fables of fate—that guy rusting Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo rusting me and me just drowning in the sea of infection and despair.

I don’t ing care what Kyungsoo does to me. He can spoil me, waste me, turn me into this pathetic lovesick fool and I’ll still gladly welcome all of it. If only that guy doesn’t exist, I will leave the days with a smile knowing there won’t be anyone who abuses Kyungsoo’s love anymore.

When I open my eyes, there he stands like a frail child. As I look at my shaking hands, I try to beat down the feeling of nausea that threatens to twist my stomach.

. . . No!

“Kai please, stop. Please, stop,” I hear Kyungsoo beg, his small hands trying to hold me and cover himself at the same time. I feel sick. Literally.

What the ?

Kyungsoo’s eyes are b with bitter and painful tears and I… I just look like an watching him as I finally feel and register the thundering beat of my pulse.

How long? Oh my God. How long is it this time?

I choke out a woeful set of sounds, deep vibrations that I know are sobs of my ed-up-ness wrung out from the deepest and darkest recess of my soul.

Kai, you ing bastard! Why? How could you... Kyungsoo, my poor Kyungsoo.

I look at his frailty and immediately bends. My heart shatters at the sight, a powerful squueze taking over my chest as my mind finally digests the bitter taste of misery. And it hurts.

It hurts so ing much.

The only love of my life is there in front of me, Kyungsoo is there crying in front of me and I wish he isn't. I wish he's far away; I wish I'm far away. But reality rushes in as I scream. This is so unfair. This is so ing unfair! Why me? Why us?

There's a sting in my eyes that threatens to spill. I want to hug him, I want to touch him, I want to caress him like how I always do but he cowers away. He flinches like a scared cat when I raise my hand and it’s…

“Kyungsoo.”

He glances up and meets my stare. My eyes travel along the smoothness of his face and distinctly take note of the overwrought state of his muscles and those bruises. His lips bend up to greet me with gentleness.

Why? It looks painful so why is he still smiling?

“I’m okay, Jongin.”

Empty words. I vaguely notice his lips moving, probably busy spouting unoriginal things to somehow make me feel at ease again. I squint and glare and cry. I don’t give a flying about his lame excuses for me anymore. Can’t he see that I already know?

“I’m sorry,” comes the mumble of my resignation as I weakly plop down on the hardness of the floor. It's me. He's me. That bastard Kai is me all along. I've been that ing sick rust wasting Kyungsoo's pure metal all along.

“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Kyungsoo.”

I feel him kneel down beside me as he gathers me in his arms, letting me cry my—our—helplessness and hopelessness out.

“Ssshh, I understand. It's okay,” he exhales so close to my ear. “I love you just the same.”