What if he asked Kyungsoo why not, demanded for a reason; not brushed it off his shoulder like specks of snow?

What if he asked Kyungsoo why he couldn’t just break it off with Chanyeol; demanded him; not blinked at his words as if they meant nothing.

What if he said something, anything rather that the all too monumentally stupid and generic okay.

Was there even a proper response to a  rejection?

Wouldn’t it be easier not to respond?

Wouldn’t it be better to make no reaction at all and not saying okay as a reflex?

This wasn’t  Kim Jongin. He did not ask hypothetical questions, he jumped off eagerly, all high and mighty to get answers.

He got them, however inaccurate or premature they may be.

Kyungsoo said he won’t, not he can’t. He won’t, It was a flat-out refusal and Jongin just said okay.

The numbers in his digital clock mocked him, red little numeric glared at him. They reminded him how irrelevant the concept of time was when it came to a certain hobbit. The same hobbit that was motionless beside him, probably replaying a memory of him and that dufus. Jongin knew that a person can’t get everything, but he was Kim Jongin. He is Kim Jongin and that was enough. So it didn’t make sense how unsure, how inadequate, how disabled, how weak, how undeserving he saw himself now.

The night ended in awkward eye contact and hesitant words stuck behind sealed lips. But Kim Jongin is nocturnal, he chose to stay awake just to rebel, to sway around tradition. However, this very night Jongin wasn’t awake because of that. He could close his eyes and nurse a lie but the present just splashes out truth behind closed eyelids.   The present was so strong and disappointing that the make-believe lies he conjured were shot down right before the first of brush. 

So he sat up, the house creaked under his bare feet, it breathed, it traced his soles with warmth. Sadly, the warmth of his house was not enough to lull him to sleep, not even enough to call it a home.  He descended the stairs with a painfully slow pace, one-foot forward then another and another.

He put on the shoes that were sitting at the bottom of the stairs, it was four years old, and the black color was fading into gray.  The strings soiled by dust and memory, the sole almost worn out but it was his favorite. He found comfort in flawed things. Kyungsoo came to his life in a darting pace, turned his life around in tiny rustle steps. He took it upon himself to inspect every nook and cranny in Jongin’s life and Jongin just let him be.  He came and decided to mess things up and although he wasn’t leaving yet he will.  Jongin dreaded that day but he wanted to witness it and stare at it the eye when it came but right now, he wasn’t ready yet.

The doorknob was ice-cold beneath his palm, the night air was even worse but nothing could beat the need to freeze the erratic throb of his heart. 

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► Hi! It's been two months since Exoluxion in Manila happened and I still cant believe I met EXO in person. I know its kinda far since I was on the second floor but holy Chanyeol just hit my poor heart like lightning. I went alone and i'm such an awkward potato but I had a blasted night. And Jumyeon is so underrated and sehun's chin is something in person. Kai wasnt able to perform though, bummer.