Chapter Four

*A/N~~ So, this chapter picks up right where chapter two ended. (I’m sorry about the spastic-ness of chapter three.. I don’t even know what happened, there.) Please, read on and enjoy!

            “You need to talk to me,” Myungsoo said, sitting down beside Sungyeol. The cold concrete felt like it burned Sungyeol’s skin through the thin, flimsy, silky material of his gym shorts. Sungyeol drew in a shaky breath, staring at his legs and feet, painted white by the moon. He could not bring himself to say anything, though, and turned his attentions to the skies. A faint streak danced by, barely staining his pupils with its light before it was gone. Sungyeol smiled, scarcely a ghost of the usual outward action, barely enough movement to be called a smile.

            A shooting star.

            Could it grant his wish?

            “Sungyeol. Tell me,” Myungsoo said, wrapping his stick-thin arms around his knees. Sungyeol drew in a shaky breath, and began.

            “I can’t stand how she acts. She doesn’t treat you well; at least, she doesn’t look like she does. She never has to try, either. I try so hard, just to talk to you for a minute, but she grabs your attention for an hour, and it looks effortless. It’s like she never has had to work for anything, and I’m struggling. I feel alone all the time, like a piece of me is missing, and I hate it. I don’t even know how you feel anymore. Like, the other day during lunch: you were upset, and I felt like I didn’t have the right to worry about you. She walks around, her chin held all the way up, and her shoulders rolled back like she rules the world, and I feel so left out, and I can’t even.. I haven’t even smiled, not since you two started dating. I miss you. I miss you. I want my best friend back; the one who laughs really loud and smiles at nothing, and stays up really late to laugh about stupid things.”

            He felt silent. For a long, long minute, Myungsoo didn’t speak. Sungyeol’s heart froze. Had he just messed up everything? Had he just lost his one shot at repairing what he viewed as the end of their friendship? Did Myungsoo feel what Sungyeol felt: the anger, frustration, the weariness, and most of all, the disgust with Sungyeol, and the crushing, overbearing weight of sadness and anguish. 

            Myungsoo only sighed, a weary,  no, exhausted noise, and then, before Sungyeol could fully comprehend what happened, he burst into tears, and buried his face in his arms.

            Sungyeol jumped to his feet, panic blooming across his chest. He had just made Myungsoo cry. Myungsoo was crying, and it was because of Sungyeol. Myungsoo was crying.

            “Myungie. Myungsoo. Kim Myungsoo, please!” Sungyeol cried out, gripping Myungsoo’s arms and hauling him upright. Myungsoo’s sobs did not slow, nor did the harshness of the sound dim, but his arms did unwind from his body and wrap around Sungyeol’s shoulders. To Sungyeol’s immense relief, Myungsoo seemed to relax against him, even as he cried. Just that one action, that one release of muscles, that one gesture, melted away much of Sungyeol’s fear.

            Myungsoo didn’t hate Sungyeol.

            Just that small fact was consolation enough for Sungyeol.  He walked around with his head held high, his smiles less forced, less fake, and he finally began to pick his grades up. His friends began to notice the difference immediately, and began to include him in the jokes again. And, not consequently, Sungyeol began to feel human again. 

           One day, Myungsoo asked Sungyeol to stay after school with him, and the two climbed to the highest point in the football stadium, watching the team without really seeing them, and talking about nonsense. A flock of birds zipped by overhead, and Sungyeol’s spirit felt light enough to float away with them. He gripped the arms of the stadium seat with white-knuckled hands, trying to ground himself, and not let his sheer joy of being right beside Myungsoo overwhelm him. A bit ridiculous? Perhaps, but that would not curb Sungyeol’s joy.

           A thought seared its way through Sungyeol’s mind, and he turned to Myungsoo, cutting his friend off mid-sentence.

            “Isn’t Taeyeon waiting for you?” He asked, bitterness rising in his throat. Why bitterness?  Grow up; he’s not on Earth for you.

            The look that Myungsoo gave him was one of mixed sadness and confusion. Sungyeol chuckled nervously.

           “What?” He queried.

           “I like it here with you,” Myungsoo said, turning back to watch the football team. Sungyeol’s ears heated with shame. He didn’t deserve Myungsoo’s patience, but here was Myungsoo, dispensing it freely. Sungyeol’s throat grew tight, but for once, it was with happiness, not with frustration.

           The two sat for a while longer in the stands before walking down and then parting ways.

            The sadness of having Myungsoo leave had long since faded into a slow, steady ache that followed Sungyeol around like a stricken puppy, and then dimmed into something that Sungyeol only thought about occasionally if he was having a bad day, or when he was awake at night with nothing else to think about.

               The weeks ticked on, first one, then another, then another. The euphoria that had hollowed Sungyeol out with its blast slowly trickled out of him, stale and bitter. He tried, he really tried. He began to slump back down into the suffocating sadness that had been lurking at the very edges of his happiness, threatening to consume him.

             Woohyun began to stay closer to Sungyeol’s side, began to try to reassure him with slight touches, mimicking the way that Myungsoo used to cling, but Sungyeol only tolerated the contact with hollow eyes, and a deft shrug. Howon and Dongwoo tried to include him, invited him to all of the parties and events that they held, but although Sungyeol would attend, he would not be present.

              All of his anger, grief, and self-disgust began to rise up, until it was constantly as though Sungyeol had a knot in his throat, blocking his airways, blocking even his thought processes until he could not think of anything more than: Myungsoo was gone. Myungsoo is gone. What did I do? What did I do? Why?

       Nothing that any of his friends told him could ease his ache, and many nights were spent, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if he’d truly lost the only friend that he’d cared about so deeply that it felt like his skin was going to tear from trying to contain all of the joy in his soul. He would fall into a fretful sleep, only to be tormented by his dreams of darkness, and calling Myungsoo’s name, only to be answered with silence, and somehow feeling the scathing heat of Myungsoo’s eyes. Those nights, he would wake up, sitting upright, panting desperately before collapsing in half to sob into his hands.

       Fool. Idiot. Pathetic. Useless.

              Words stung through Sungyeol’s psyche, words that seemed to haunt him. Those nights, he would reach a shuddering hand towards his bedside table and grasp a pen and a piece of paper. Upon that paper, he began to write a letter. Inside this letter was contained his insecurities, his deepest fears, and his desperation and confusion. Once that paper was full, another took its place.

             Several letters began to build up, and then, the tide that had been pressing against Sungyeol’s temples, consuming his very actions, causing him to snap at his girlfriend, at Woohyun, at Howon, at Dongwoo, at Sungjong, and dragging his grades down into the pit of hatred and self-loathing and seeming self-pity.

               Finally, one day, a Friday, over two months since Myungsoo had cried on Sungyeol’s shoulders, Sungyeol made a decision that would consume his very being for the next week, and the week beyond.  All of the letters that he had written, all of the pained words, he gathered, spread before him on a desk during his first class that day, then began something that was painfully bitter, painfully immature, choosing each word carefully. Each and every word, every letter, was interwoven with Sungyeol’s frustrations and desperate plea for help.

               The work was a note, a lengthy note that explained to Myungsoo all of the negativity that Sungyeol had felt for the past dozen or so weeks, and the words were chosen so deliberately, intended for a single goal:

               Myungsoo didn’t need to bother himself with worries about Sungyeol. He had better things to concern himself with, and Sungyeol would complete the note, hand it to him in front of Taeyeon, who would do naught but influence Myungsoo’s rage towards Sungyeol, through her presence alone, and then bear the brunt of Myungsoo’s anger in silence, curbing his natural instinct to rise and defend himself.

                 Sungyeol fought inwardly with himself, and during the third class of the day, one of two class periods that he shared with Myungsoo, after receiving an award, he was sitting still, chin in hand, brooding over the expected reactions that would come from Myungsoo, when he heard someone calling his name.

                 He snapped, turning towards the direction of his summons, his voice sharper than necessary.

               “Calm down!” Myungsoo snapped. “They just wanted to ask you a question.”  Sungyeol’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He turned back towards the front of the room with a gritted jaw, and fought to keep from turning around and apologizing to Myungsoo for snapping.

                 “What’s wrong with him?” He heard a classmate question Myungsoo. Sungyeol’s hands, busy worrying at the chain of Woohyun’s borrowed dogtags, stilled at Myungsoo’s sharp response.

                 “He’s just being overly dramatic. Leave him alone a while; let him cool off.”

                 Sungyeol stiffened, and his eyes grew wide in shock. Not once had Myungsoo ever said anything like that about him, not where Sungyeol could hear, at any rate, and it stunned Sungyeol, rocked him to the very core of him, until he could hear nothing but, “He’s just being overly dramatic.” The sounds of the teachers talked seemed dulled, as if someone had stuffed cotton into Sungyeol’s ears, and when his name was called as a selection for a recreational game, he moved automatically, feeling as if his limbs were trailing through something thicker than syrup.

                “Myungsoo, wanna join this team?” Someone on Sungyeol’s team asked, reaching for Myungsoo. Sungyeol turned his head slowly, gauging Myungsoo’s reaction with heavy eyes.

                  Myungsoo shook his head, eyes somehow managing to be closed and livid at the same time. Sungyeol stumbled over to stand at the back of the line. A team mate grabbed his shoulders.

                 “What’s with you two?” He asked, eyes bright. Sungyeol shook his head, trying to respond, even though his vocal chords had declared mutiny and failed him.

                Sungyeol’s resolve became even more set after that incident, and later that day, after putting the finishing touches on his note, dropped it onto Myungsoo’s books as Myungsoo wavered under the stack, talking to Taeyeon. He bounced off, not looking back, forcing a laugh at something that one of his friends had said. Pain mounted in his chest.

               After the school day was over, after Myungsoo had read the note, possibly after Taeyeon had read it as well, Sungyeol’s fears and resignations would either be confirmed or denied. He sat through his final class, hair clenched in tight fists, trying to drag his mind away from something other than Myungsoo, trying to ground himself through the pain. Not a muscle moved, and when the bell rang, he was up, darting through the halls to meet with Howon and Dongwoo, and hopefully bail out before he had to come into contact with Myungsoo.

                Luck was not on his side, not that day. Sungyeol had just set his books down, only to turn around, and be faced with a furious Myungsoo. Myungsoo’s hand was tight on Sungyeol’s arm, and Sungyeol jerked away. Myungsoo couldn’t touch him, because if he did, Sungyeol was sure to explode with pain and guilt and fear.

              “What. Is this?” Myungsoo hissed, slamming Sungyeol’s note down onto a desk.

                “That. Is all that I could articulate right now,” Sungyeol replied, staring right back into Myungsoo’s eyes, knowing full well that his voice was shaking, and not particularly worrying about it.

                 “It’s pathetic,” Myungsoo spat.

I know.

                   “You’re being pathetic. Why can’t you grow up?!”

Because it’s best for you that I do this.

                 “Do you have any idea how much it breaks my heart to see you upset?!”

I’m sorry.

                 “What’s wrong with you? It’s pathetic, Sungyeol.”

Don’t say my name like that. Please.

                “You. Are. Pathetic.”

I know.

              “Know what? Take your notes; take everything. When you grow up, you can come talk to me.” Myungsoo stormed off, gathering his stuff, and beginning to walk towards Taeyeon. 

Then I’ll never grow up. You need to get away from me; I’m nothing but bad for you, and you deserve so much better.

             “Once you see the real world around you, and stop seeing what you want to see, it’ll be good for you, Sungyeol.”

Don’t say my name!

            “Find me, once you stop replacing everyone else’s reality with your own!” Sungyeol cried after Myungsoo, his voice lilting up at the last syllable before cracking. He closed his eyes, and turned away from the sight of Myungsoo leaving with Taeyeon, a now-familiar sight that broke Sungyeol into a thousand, transparent, fragile pieces. He felt someone wrap their arms around him, and breathed in Dongwoo’s familiar scent, raising his arms to accept someone’s touch for once. He breathed slowly, feeling as though he couldn’t get enough air to his lungs, then stepped away from Dongwoo, only to meet his concerned eyes with eyes that stung and felt sore.

             Sungyeol picked up his bag, and headed out of the hallway, Dongwoo and Sungjong trailing him with worried eyes. Suddenly, he slumped, dropped his bag onto a bench and then fled to his teacher’s room.

                “What’s wrong?” The teacher asked. Sungyeol shook his head, then, without warning, began to sob for air, tears welling into his eyes to fall thick and fast onto the floor.

                “Sungyeol. Breathe!” The teacher commanded. Sungyeol gasped in response, his head growing lighter, and lighter. The teacher darted from behind his desk.

               “You’re going to faint. Stand up straight and breathe. C’mon, Sungyeol. You’ve got to slow your breathing. You’re going to hyperventilate. Sungyeol!”

                Sungyeol felt his body be guided down into a chair, and allowed his body to shudder with sobs. Finally, finally, the pain that had built up beneath his collarbone was easing, the tears an outlet, an escape.

                He found himself explaining why he had run in and cried, and found the teacher more sympathetic than he had expected.

               “I don’t think less of you. In fact, I think more of you for actually telling me, and not trying to keep it all to yourself. It will get better, I promise. I know that right now, you can’t think of anything else, but even that will go away, and you’re going to look back and see your decision as either something good, or something awful,” Sungyeol was told, the teacher’s voice low and gentle.

               Sungyeol thanked the teacher, bowed and left the room, cheeks burning red with shame. He’d just cried, when he’d thought that he’d be strong.

               Dongwoo drove Sungjong and him to another friend’s house, and once there, when offered food, Sungyeol denied it, and covered his face. Migrating to a different part of the house, the friend’s room, Sungyeol sat on the floor, resting his head against Sungjong’s leg, listening to the loud hip-hop bass of music throb through the room.

                Dongwoo left the room, the friend close behind, and Sungyeol lost control of his tears again, curling up to Sungjong, his own sobs sounding harsh in his ears. Dongwoo’s footsteps came pounding into the room, and Sungyeol felt him slump beside him and allowed Dongwoo to pull him into his lap.

                “Oh, baby.. I know… I know… Ssssh,” Dongwoo said, rocking Sungyeol back and forth as though Sungyeol was a child again. Slowly, Sungyeol’s tears slowed, leaving him feeling even more empty than before.

              Sungyeol knew, because he was the only one that knew, that what he had done, not fighting back, not rebutting or defending himself against Myungsoo, writing the note, was to separate him from Myungsoo, because Myungsoo was so much better than him. Sungyeol was not worth the effort that Myungsoo exerted on him, and by allowing Myungsoo this victory, Sungyeol had given up the one thing that he craved most: Myungsoo’s attentions.

                Nothing would ever replace what he had shared with Myungsoo, and Sungyeol knew that nothing would ever come close. By forcing the separation, Sungyeol knew that he had hurt Myungsoo, but he didn’t know how much. All he wished for, all he prayed for at night when the misery swamped him, and when the sadness was the darkest, was for Myungsoo to find comfort soon, and for God to place all of Myungsoo’s sadness onto Sungyeol. He would gladly carry the burden, because Myungsoo was too good for that; he didn’t do anything to merit sadness, or any darkness.

               Alone at night, Sungyeol lay, out of tears, and wishing for nothing but for Myungsoo to heal and be happy. And sometimes, Sungyeol wanted nothing more than to end his own life, wished that he could have done it a long time ago, wished that he had never come into Myungsoo’s life.

              If he could have the courage, if he could muster the courage, and if his future looked bleak enough, Sungyeol would end it all. Everything would come to an end. Everything would stop.

                 Full stop.

A/N~

            Hey, there. I hope you liked this installment, and I am sorry that it’s not been updated in a while. Happy Thanksgiving!!

~Mak~