"Are you sick of me?"

Key's throat was tight, and he wondered how he could say that, how he could possibly think that he- Kim Jonghyun, the angel- could drive him away. That he could ever get sick of him. "No, no, Jjong..." He murmured softly, trailing off and swallowing hard. He didn't know how to tell him, that he was the most perfect person he'd ever met, he was sunshine, he was walking into a warm building on an icy day, he was the stereo and that old book smell; he was hot cocoa and fireplaces and family while Key-

Well. Kim Kibum... he was none of those things. A cat. A worthless, stupid cat. That's all he was, and he didn't deserve him.

I'm not sick of you, Kim Jonghyun, I'm sick of myself. How do I tell you that?

                          Possible trigger warnings, darlins, so watch out~ Nothing too too awful, I think...