A/N: Hello beautiful bubblies!!! ^^ Thank you so much for reading and supporting my fics, especially Just a Geek (which you can read here). So this chappie is an alternate ending to that completed oneshot - so I recommend you to go on over and read Just a Geek if you haven't already, before you read this one! Go on, I'll be waiting here ^^ 

I'm wrapping up this oneshot collection as well, with about two or three shots left after this, but please continue to comment, read, and subscribe to these stories and my upcoming ones! I love you all to the moon and beyond and I can't explain just how much I appreciate all your wonderful and gorgeous support! <3

Hey.

I...I just wanted to say.

I'm sorry. For everything I did. For hurting you, for being an ignorant bastard, for...everything.

I'm sorry.

Is it really so much to ask, is it really selfish or stupid or disgusting of me, if I just want to hear those words from him? Just once?

I swallow and feel the silky smooth fabric of the ties constrict around my throat. The crude rope is already making it hard to breathe. My heart races and my palms feel sweaty. My feet dance uneasily on the chair. Maybe if I wait...

No. I can't wait. What would I wait for? For someone to come in? For someone to tell me to stop what I'm doing, because everything will be all right?

I can't stop, not now. And nothing will ever be all right. Nothing will ever be the same.

No one knows I'm here. No one would care. Chanyeol is just a friend, and he's still bartending at this time. He never comes into the apartment anyway, unless it's to carry the drunk me upstairs. I never allowed him to come in.

Because here—this apartment was a special place. A special place that I once shared with a special someone.

Now that special someone is gone. He's run off. And this place—filthy and stinking of vomit and blood and unwashed clothing—is no longer special.

I have to do it. I just have to. It can't be hard. Real suicide, real successful suicide, isn't cowardice but rather bravery. It takes a lot of heart and courage to kill yourself.

I need to. I just need to. No one deserves the pain and anger that I live in, day by day. No one deserves the feeling of abandonment and loneliness, of heartache and depression.

Especially not me. What have I done?

My mouth feels dry. My left eye twitches and I can smell my own odor, of how much I reek. My heart hammers in my chest at a pace it's never gone before, as if wanting to get as many beats in as possible before it suffocates and dies, along with the rest of my body.

But not my soul. My soul won't suffocate and die today.

It was dead a long time ago.

I take a deep breath. I am confident now. I no longer have any purpose here, if I had any in the first place. I can go.

By just kicking the chair away, into the stinking vomit and away from me, I'll be free. I can relieve myself of the pain and desperation and loneliness. I might even find a better place in death than on Earth, although I've never been the religious type.

But I can do this.

I lift myself up a little, using what strength I have left in my withering weak muscles, and tip my feet and swiftly kick the chair far away, out of my reach. All my weight is transferred now from my feet...

...and onto my neck.

Gravity pulls me down and my throat constricts immediately. I gasp and inhale in panic, except I can't breathe anymore. My legs flail instinctively and my arms shoot up to my neck. It becomes unclear whether it's fear choking me or the rope, and my brain immediately freaks, thinking ohmigod no one's around ohmigod I'm going to die oh my ing god I can't breathe.

And then my thoughts grow jumbled. It hurts so much and the pain is so terrible and uncomfortable and I can't think I can't move except for my legs they keep on moving they can't stop and my hands are grappling desperately at my neck as if the pressure on it would be lifted and my eyes bug out my vision swims everything grows fuzzy and there's a sharp ringing in my ears—

But one last clear thought.

This is it. This is the peace I wanted.

My hands drop slowly to my sides even though I don't feel them dropping. My vision blackens even though I don't remember closing my eyes. I am at a sudden calm, and my life—it flashes before me.

Childhood passes by without a hitch. It's almost as if I'm watching a stop motion video, with past memories and significant events popping up in front of me. My first time in the ballet studio, where everyone laughed at me for being the only boy; my appearance on a Hunan television show; my singing auditions; my first job at the local McDonald's; and the day I met the right one.

I met Kris.

Thoughts of him flash weakly through my brain, images that fade away faster than the last. Our kiss in the park. The birthday date I'd set up for him. The time he confessed that although he slept around, he made love to me. And the way he called out to me. The way he said, Lay.

I still love him. He's still my right one. He's still—

He's still...

He's still......

Mine.

*           *           *

The smell hits me first.

One blurry, unclear thought hits me second.

Why the hell am I still alive?

The voice—that beautiful , deeply resonating voice—hits me third.

"Oh my ing god you ing idiot Lay! Oh Lay oh Laylay wake up you ing moron, you dip retarded bastard!" it was saying.

Not the first thing I'd rather hear when I wake up.

I can't feel anything, except soreness all over my entire body—although I'm sure I only feel a bit of it. I know the full impact of the pain will come later. Someone's crying on me, sobbing in loud huffing gasps. I can feel warm wet tears sliding into my hair and down the side of my face, and just for a split second I want to stay in this moment forever.

To feel loved, to feel cherished, to be worth crying about...I've waited so long to feel like this.

My head is on the man's lap, and I can feel his warmth pressing through his clothes into my skin. He's holding me, his touch igniting fiery bursts of emotion in my body and I can't believe how much I've craved human contact until now, in his arms.

Kris's arms.

It's Kris. It's Kris.

His familiar scent and touch covers me like a security  blanket, and for that moment I can just forget everything—how cruel the world is, how cruel he is, and how I was just about to kill myself minutes before. I'd even out.

Kris had saved me.

He's there for me, now.

I move a little, twitching my fingers unintentionally, and Kris's deep heavy sobs cut short immediately. It's as if he's waiting for me to move again, as if he wants to make sure I'm alive.

"L-Lay?" Oh God, that voice. I've been deprived of hearing it for so long.

I try turning to face him in his lap, but a sudden numbing pain freezes me in place. I reach out for his hand on my cheek instead, hoping he'd get the message.

Kris grabs my hand and squeezes lightly. I can feel the emotion in the air, so thick and yet comforting, a mix of joy and fear and anger and frustration and a million things unsaid. He takes in a shaky breath and I can feel him smiling, even though I can't see his godly beautiful face.

And I smile too, for the first time in months.

"Oh God, Lay, I thought I'd lost you," he says breathily. The husky tone makes me shiver with delight.

There's silence and a lot of pain as he helps me up, slowly, to face him. I'm still propped against his arm and cradled against his chest, having no strength to keep myself upright. This gives me a good view of his stunning godly face and I stare into his warm quivering eyes, so soft and loving since the last time I'd seen them. His lips, so beautiful like the rest of him, curve into a small smile. The first sincere smile I'd seen since over a year ago.

I may hurt like hell and I may look like hell, but I'm in heaven.

And then the thought occurs to me and I turn away from him.

"Lay? What's wrong?" Kris suddenly speaks urgently, desperately, and my heart warms at the worry for me that I've almost never heard from him.

I smile back and shake my head. And attempt to speak. Anything for him. "N-Nothing. You can't see me like this."

"W-What?"

I'm covered in blood and vomit. I look like an absolute damned mess, no doubt. I'm tainting his beautiful suit and clean soft skin, and this is in no way how I want him to see me as after three months. I try to gesture to him, to explain, and he gets it. He gets it so quickly, and he throws his head back and laughs.

And the feeling I get from hearing that laugh, and sensing the understanding from him...

I really hadn't known what I'd had, until it was gone. Did it really have to come to this, to the point of where I'm dying and in a mess in this rich businessman's arms, to realize what I'd had back then?

"Lay." Kris brings my attention back to him, looks at me with those eyes.

"Hm?"

"Hey." He smiles suddenly, tears b on his face. He doesn't bother to wipe them away, and he's even more beautiful like this. "I...I just wanted to say. I'm sorry. For everything I did. For hurting you, for being an ignorant bastard, for...everything. I'm sorry."

He chokes up a little and buries his head in my shoulders, his soft sobs muffled as he squeezes me tight.

It hurts, but I don't care. My heart is bursting. Hot tears run down my face, and it's not like the countless other times where I cried, in anguish and alone. This time it's in ecstasy, in relieving forgiveness and apology and frustration and happiness and everything in between.

And this time, I'm with someone.

Not just anyone. Kris. I'm with Kris.

He raises his head, slowly, tear stains along the side of his sharp chin. He smiles. I will never forget that smile.

And then he leans in, his face shining with tears and love and so many other things, and our lips meet.

After so long.

He tastes of beauty, I taste of . I can taste strawberries and chocolate and Kris in his lips and tongue, trying to block out my own reek of blood and puke and just savor his scent and touch. Salty tears and emotions mix in. Kris looks like a god, a pure-minded deity, his hair swept gently across his forehead and his long lashes fluttering. And me—I finally have a reason to live.

I close my eyes and already I feel myself slipping away. I don't want this to end, this heaven, Kris's mouth against mine, and I fight it. But I'm too tired, dark blackness is consuming me, Kris breaks away with urgency and I faintly hear something about I'm ing stupid and ing ambulance.

No, Kris. You're not stupid. You're perfect.

I was, for not realizing what I had in front of me until it was gone.

I gasp and my eyes fly open. Everything I see is stark white and blinding and it hurts my eyes. There's a strange contraption around my mouth—an oxygen mask, I realize—and countless wires sticking into me. My entire body is sore, but my neck hurts like hell and it's hard to breathe.

I slowly turn my head to the left, almost surprised at how painful the small action is. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to blink away the tears. When I open them again, I yelp and attempt to jerk back, but my body screams at me and real tears flow down my face this time.

A large face with curly hair and an expression in between furious and elated fills my vision.

"Look, the er finally woke up!" Chanyeol says happily.

I swallow, and then realize how much it hurts and I stop. If I speak, I know it will be worse.

"You ing . You moron." Chanyeol shakes his head, burying his face in his hands dramatically. "Why didn't you come to me if you needed help?"

If looks could kill, the one I give him would've zapped him on the spot.

"Alright, alright," he mutters, holding his hands up in surrender. "At least appreciate your old mate hanging around. I've been here the past three days. See, I've sacrificed good food and hygiene for you." His eyes soften and his hand rests on mine. "I hope you're okay. Next time, go see a counselor."

It's only then that I notice the sagging dark circles under Chanyeol's eyes, and his messy bush of hair that's even more unkempt than usual. I try to nod to console him, but it's too hard with my swollen purple neck and the tubes sticking all over the place.

I just have one question to ask him.

Chanyeol looks at me in relief. He stands up and starts to head towards the door. "I need to go, the doctors will be coming soon and I have to get back to work. My boss was lenient as it is; this is the most I could've stayed. But I'm glad you're back, Lay."

"Kris?" The one syllable constricts my throat and sends shockwaves of pain throughout my body. I shudder involuntarily, both at the discomfort and how rough and awful my voice sounds now.

My friend shoots me a concerned, automatically wary look in my direction. "Don't speak, it's bad for you. And don't you dare think about that ever again. He caused this."

But...but didn't he save me? He saved me, I know! I kissed him!

I wave Chanyeol back urgently, tearing the oxygen mask off my face and gesturing for his phone. He stares at me in confusion as I text out the words with trembling fingers, missing keys and punching in symbols awkwardly.

Where is Kris

Yeol stares at me in confusion this time. He cautiously takes back his phone as he searches my hopeful face. And then he looks down, averting my gaze, and slowly shakes his head.

"Lay...what are you talking about?"

I can feel the grasps of desperation and terror clawing at me, trying to drag me back down. I quickly delete the words on the screen with my thumb and type again. My whole body shakes now.

Who brought me here

"Some stranger. Says he met you at a bus stop...Lay, why on Earth would you think it was Kris? Why on earth would it have been that son-of-a-? He came into the bar in the middle of the night, the same night you—you know—and I haven't seen him since. I don't know where he went after that. He looked like he was heading for you, but I can't be sure. Maybe he went back to China or wherever he was before. I don't...sorry." Yeol drifts off and looks down at his hands uncomfortably, as if he knows he's said too much.

Silence as this sinks in.

Because I can't believe it. My eyes unfocus and I slowly lean back into the hard, cold hospital pillows.

Kris was there. He was. I kissed him. I felt his lips against mine, tasted his salty tears and enticing cologne and my own vomit and blood and odor.

I ing kissed him.

Chanyeol shifts his feet, avoiding my eyes. "I'm sorry for whatever you've been hoping, Lay. I—I really need to go."

I hear the footsteps fading away and the floor tiles squeaking, but I don't register it. I see the white door shut behind him as the only pop of color in this stark white room leaves, but it's as if I'm seeing through a translucent screen.

I wish I never met the Joonmyeon. I wish he never saved me. I wish I succeeded in the suicide attempt.

Because if I was to be saved, I should've been saved only by him. If I was to wake up in a white colorless hospital, I should've woken up to only him.

If only everything had been true. If only Kris had been the one.

...If only I hadn't been dreaming.

fin.