[Mini-series] Belonged : Choices (4/5)

[benniot_91]

Belonged: Choices [4/5]; Kyuhyun, Sungmin, Donghae, Hyukjae(Eunhyuk), Jongwoon(Yesung), Ryeowook, Siwon; Chaptered, angst, romance, slice of life; PG-15 (for this part); the boy band Super Junior belongs to SM Entertainment and to their selves respectively. I disown anything that you recognized in this fiction, except for the style of writing and plots. Any original characters’ names that resemble real life persons are purely coincidental.

A/N: Weeeee just one more chapter to go, guys! Can’t believe it took me three years to finish five chapters of a mundane love story. I’m proud of this chapter. To readers, thanks for the sticking with this mini-series.

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How many smiles can you fake when you’re trying so hard not to cry? How many text have you wanted to send, but deleted instead?

There were few times when he called out Hyukjae’s name soon after he walked into the building and closing the door of their apartment gently (because Hyukjae hated loud noises) after an exhausting day at his workshop, only to be replied with his own echoes. Realising how lonesome he sounded, he would stand in the middle of the living room in the dark, smelling the grease and metal odour from his hands and working clothes.

“Hyukjae,” he would call again, this time it came out as a whisper, and pulled out his phone from the left pocket of his pants and searched for the number. He knew the number by heart, he knew. It was probably the only number that he could remember from the three hundred contacts he had in his phone. For God’s sake he couldn’t even remember his own number properly. But somehow, reading the name from the screen itself was important. It was like a proof of how someone named Hyukjae was a part of his small world. That there used to be someone named Hyukjae who answered his call and greeted him with a smile or a warm hug as he walked into the door.

But the thing is, now, now that he was looking for the name, now that he was trying to hold on onto one last string of proof how Hyukjae was there, Hyukjae was a big part of his existence and Hyukjae was his, he remembered the night when he was drunk but not too drunk, fagged, yes by the anger and disappointment and sadness towards the world. The night when he took out the phone, looking at the name he was missing, cursing it, and pressing the delete button.

He still had the number scorched onto his brain, name tattooed on the thin surface of his heart, yes. But what would that do when he wanted to see the person, and that person wasn’t going to be there?

-

“Are you alright?” ah, that question. He currently hated that question. Hyukjae fisted the pen in his right hand, breathed in, out and forced a smile on his face even though he was damn sure the person on the other line wouldn’t get to see it.

“I’m fine. The works are killing me but I think I’ll manage. I don’t know how you were able to suck all this and get going like nothing was wrong, hyung,” he laughed, trying to lessen the tense in his voice, trying not to think of any other semantics behind the question.

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Hyukjae, you know damn well that is not what I mean.” You see, this is why he hated that question. It was very broad, and consist a lot of layers by meanings. Meanings, that if were told would turn his world upside down, and put everyone, especially Sungmin in guilt, that could possibly solve every fucking misunderstanding but at the same time revealing painful truths. But wait, there was no misunderstanding. None at all. Because they’ve talked about this like grown men, weren’t they? He and Donghae. That day when he left. When he saw Sungmin back again in flesh, hand in hand with Kyuhyun walking back to Kyuhyun’s car leaving them alone to have a final talk. When his heart was torn to pieces but fixed right up.

When reality hit him strongly in the face without any mercy.

“We knew this day would come sooner or later, hyung. We just chose to delay it. We both knew. You tried to change our fate, our destiny and trust me hyung, you were doing great. But this is what we lived for, eventually.” Sungmin’s breath sounded like a choke, and Hyukjae didn’t think his sounded any different. He wanted to cry, but no, he refused to. Months had passed since the last time he shed tears for what could’ve been his, what he had to be satisfied with.

“I’m sorry, Hyukjae. I’m a selfish bastard,” Sungmin whispered, and he sounded so distant.

“No, hyung. No more apologies. I won’t be at peace if you keep on apologising for the life you deserved. I’m good, I’m really good. This…this is the price. For the happiness I had for the last ten years, this is the price I have to pay, and I am content with it,” his voice faltered as he reached the last word, and Hyukjae felt his eyes stinging. There was silence for a mere ten seconds before he put down the receiver. It was rude because Sungmin didn’t get to say anything, but again, he didn’t think his hyung has anything on his mind to say. Because what he said was the truth and truth were always defined with the way silences crept into a conversation.

And everything would become very awkward.

-

“When can we get married?” it was at spur moment, right after a gentle and intoxicating love making with sweats still beading out from their skins and dripping from the ends of their wet hair and Sungmin couldn’t decipher the meaning of the question even though it wasn’t a sentence with hints.

“Wha-what?”

“Get married, you and I. You know, I put a ring on your finger,” he took Sungmin’s left hand and kissed the ring finger gently as if Sungmin was a doll made of fragile glass that could break with a slight brush, before he bore his dark orbs into Sungmin’s blushing face.

“…and you put one on mine.” He continued, and planted another kiss on Sungmin’s cheek. It took Sungmin a minute of silence before he can reply it with a peck on Kyuhyun’s forehead and a small sigh.

“You must’ve been very deeply in love with me, don’t you, Cho Kyuhyun? To think that you don’t even feel odd about asking a man for his hand in marriage.” Sungmin chuckled, and snuggled into Kyuhyun’s open arm. Resting his head against Kyuhyun’s chest felt so calming, so very calming that it was frightening. What if this was a dream and he would be cruelly woken up just anytime soon? What if this tangibility was just his mind pulling tricks on him because his brain was tired enough of years and years of waiting and expecting things he never thought could have happened? He closed his eyes, and mumbled a prayer.

Please God, I had enough of dreaming

“If I’m still dreaming right now, then don’t wake me up,” Kyuhyun suddenly said, voice weakened and disturbed by the small yawn he let out. Sungmin’s eyes shot opened, and he stared stared stared into Kyuhyun’s face for a really long time, long enough that he forgot to reply the kiss Kyuhyun put on top of his head or the goodnight wish before he fell into his deep sleep, arms wrapped around Sungmin so tight as if he didn’t do that, Sungmin would slip and fall into a black hole beneath their bed.

“How could you say that? When my reality is way better than my fantasy? How could you?” his voice choked, and tears were streaming down his face. For once, he thought, let yesterdays be his fantasy. Let the days without Kyuhyun become his fantasy, and please God…

…make him stay awake like this.

-

There was a white photo album in his mother’s hand, with glittering pinkish writing carved onto its leather bound cover. The middle aged woman was smiling ear to ear, eyes shining bright like stars on a summer’s night. Hyukjae felt a tad nostalgic; he hadn’t seen that eyes since Sungmin entered the front door of the family’s main house more than a couple of decades ago with head hung low but firm steps, flashing his sad, sad smile while greeting the lady of the house. In fact, it has been such a long time since he saw his mother’s eyes at all, mostly after he whispered to her that his lover was a man and she slapped him across his face, leaving red marks on his left cheek and nose for a few days.

“Mother, please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is,” he asked, putting down the cup in his hand into its saucer and briskly turned the pages of the document spread on his working desk with hopes that if he did that, the elegant woman that aged wonderfully in front of him would give it up for today and go home so he would have enough time to be spent doing the piling works.

“Depends on what you think it is,” she said, smiling. She leant back on her seat, watching the black fountain pen inside Hyukjae’s right hand moving swiftly across the papers and notes, Hyukjae’s head bobbing up and down from left to right and repeating the course of movement almost every thirty seconds, noting this and that, scribbling down this to be put into that, checking the time so that he won’t miss the meeting with the clients in H Restaurant at three, and she suddenly saw her husband chuckling while answering all her questions and doubts about their lives and love and trusts (dear God why does trust sounds so easy to her ears since Sungmin was gone?) and she was shocked. All these times, she thought Sungmin was the (only) exact copy of his husband. With his voice and his manner, his diligent work, his smile (oh yes she couldn’t avoid seeing that smile when that brat did everything to win her heart, could she?) and sometimes his obliging to everything she said, Sungmin was the son born to become an heir, the perfect heir for the Lee family. Too bad he wasn’t born from her womb.

“Mother, I don’t think this is the right time to find me a bride. And... and I don’t know if I can love them. Seriously Mother, pity the girls.”

“Listen, you young man. I don’t live this long just to see my only son living his confused sexuality and without a wife, and I don’t plan leaving this world without a grandchild. I don’t care if you’re going to love the girl you’re going to marry or not, that’s going to be your problem with her. I am just going to make sure that she is healthy enough and capable to offer me a grandchild. So for the love of God, find a bitch in here, one intelligent and healthy bitch, meet her and marry her, and I can kick the bucket while laughing and follow your dead father’s ass to hell!” she said, half-shouted, and slammed the photo album in her hand onto the table, very hard that Hyukjae’s cup from earlier jumped and clanked against its saucer. The busy man in front of her stopped writing, and with his fountain pen still in his grip, he calmly looked into his mother’s eyes and smiled. A very small, yet calming smile that could probably deceive others that saw it into thinking that he was actually very contented with his life. As if he was happy with everything that comes for him and that he didn’t have anything to be said (but he actually had tonnes of things that he could be complaining) about.

“Mother, you’re cursing.”

“No I didn’t,” she said, pouted. Hyukjae chuckled as he saw the wrinkles around her mouth and forehead and he felt like hugging her and tell her how cute she was but no he knew his mother, being very conservative and elegant would never let him show his childlike behaviour. Just like when he was a child.

“You said bitch. That’s a profanity.”

“Bitch is a female canine.”

“So you want me to marry a female dog?” he teased, laughing. His fountain pen started to dance again, ignoring the huffs and puffs of the old lady in front of him. His mother heaved heavily, calming herself down and held her clutch close to her chest.

“You’re just like them,” she suddenly slurred out two minutes later, and somehow she could understand that her words would be attracting her son’s attention. Hyukjae stopped scribbling and put down his pen, hands gently placed on top of each other. “Father?”

“And him,” she said, head turned to her right, looking at a picture of Sungmin shaking hands with a rich-looking guy from somewhere in Middle East in an expensive suit hung on the wall. Hyukjae rapidly blinked thrice, flabbergasted. He hoped he wasn’t on drugs, or for the after-effects of the antidepressant he took last night didn’t take place only now (he hoped it would wear off this morning but nope, it didn’t even start).

“You actually watched him. You said you didn’t care about him, but you did watched Sungmin hyung, didn’t you, Mother?” Hyukjae asked, hoping that a single ‘yes’ would suffice but no he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied that easily.

The old lady rubbed her chin, face annoyed. “I had to. He was the only one left to handle the company, whether I liked it or not, I had to see him.” she stopped, biting her lower lip. Hyukjae thought she looked somewhat regretful, but maybe it was just his tired eyes and mind playing tricks on him. She could be anything but regretful if Sungmin was ever the topic of anyone’s conversation. She was more than despising him. She didn’t even want to admit that Lee Sungmin existed in the family. And what could be more hurt than being banned from your own existence?

“I got to admit, he was your Father’s son, too. And he did such a great job handling the family and the company while you were gone. At the very least, he got my credits professionally. But now, you’re the King. This place was originally meant for you to keep. And thanks to Sungmin, God bless his soul, you’re back. I got my son back,” she turned back to him, smiling. Hyukjae wondered if his mother ever showed anyone this smile she had on her face right now. He wondered if he ever made his mother smiled like this before. He also wondered if she had ever smiled this brightly when Sungmin was here, sitting in this office, doing the work he was doing while thinking that everything he did was not being appreciated, when as a matter of fact, received such words from the lady of the house.

Hyukjae returned the smile, and slowly he picked up the photo album. Scrunching his face as if he was thinking very hard. Rubbing his nose and then his nape. Squinting his eyes, pretending that he was looking at every small detail jotted down next to the girls’ photos.

“I’ll try to meet some of them. But this is not a promise.”

“As you wish, my love. It’s all up to you,” she smiled even wider, lifting her palms up as in retreat. Picking up the paper bags she brought together as she entered the office earlier (she was on her way home from some stress-therapy shopping), she waved her son a cheerful goodbye and was ready to leave through the opened door, when Hyukjae’s question stopped her in her track.

“Mother, you did love him, didn’t you? I mean Sungmin hyung.”

She stood there silently almost a minute, before she gave the answer that Hyukjae thought he expected to come from her;

“I didn’t. But it wasn’t very easy to hate him either, that’s for sure.”

And she slammed the door hard on her way out, defeated.

Hyukjae smiled, unsure of why he did but still he thought he had just heard something that should make him feels good at the moment.

-

Sometimes when it was his day off, he came by his old neighbourhood where he used to live as a kid, passing in front of the kindergarten, the playground, the field and the used-to-be-clear man-made lake just a few hundred metres away from it.

Lately, quite too often he visited the old high school which was now a vocational one, filled with kids from average income families and almost no ambitions at all. The economy was pretty nasty a few years back and he heard the news about the change in board of directors for the once prestigious school. The school where he was convinced that Hyukjae didn’t have to be a girl for him to fall in love with. The school where he learnt that jealousy wasn’t enough to explain his feeling when he saw Siwon kissed Hyukjae for a bet, and where he also learnt that friends will always be there for you if you treat them right (one of the most legit reasons why Siwon was still alive, actually).

“Ten years. What were we in those ten years, Hyukjae?”

Donghae always knew that he wasn’t so bright. He was clumsy he was a failure; he was as slow as a snail. He couldn’t process two thoughts at a time so he was the one who asked the most in their small group of friends. Kyuhyun would call him ‘genius’ which was a pretty common insult for him. Siwon usually ignored their animalistic barbaric idiotic fight. Ryeowook and Jongwoon were always lost in their own world with flying pigs and singing cats, he wouldn’t even try to bother them. But Hyukjae was there. Hyukjae was there and Hyukjae didn’t say anything to defend him. Instead while he was furious at Kyuhyun (and mostly himself), Hyukjae would laugh and grabbed his neck and playfully pinched his cheeks, telling him that “no way, you can’t be that smart or I’ll be left alone!”

Alone.

He wondered if he ever felt this alone before. The loneliness that stretched your body to its limit, denying your existence day by day, longing for the need to have someone’s skin on yours at night when the weather wasn’t very nice. Even when he was a small boy, and his father went out one day and never coming back, his mom was there hugging him to sleep when the storm was near, and when the sky was clear the next day, little him would go out with his friends from kindergarten, including the new boy with dark hair and dark eyes that he and Hyukjae made friend with a few weeks ago, all about his father was forgotten. He was never lonely.

He fished into his pocket and grabbed out a box of cigarette. Slowly, he nipped the spongy end of the cigarette between his lips and sighed. Hyukjae must be so upset if he saw this. Usually he would be annoyed with his nasally voice nagging about how he wanted Donghae to live longer than he planned and how the bloody smoking habit of his would be bloody straining their monthly expenses, but now, now all that he wished for was Hyukjae’s nagging. He chuckled, and let the unlit cigarette dropped from his lips. Closing his eyes, his mind travelled months back to the day when he last saw Hyukjae in flesh. The day when Hyukjae decided that it’s enough and the day when both their hearts were smashed flat to earth, unfixable.

“You have to spell this out for me, Hyukjae. You know I’m slow,” Donghae muttered the words very softly that it came out like the warm wind that blew on a summer’s night, brushing next to Hyukjae’s ears as they sat silently in his car; Donghae’s eyes on his face and his eyes elsewhere outside the window, over the apartment they lived in, around the universe if it may. Probably searching for another universe next to them, where hatred was never there in the first place and Sungmin would be loved by everyone and Donghae was his from the very beginning.

Impossible.

“Hyukjae, Hyukjae. Look at me, turn to me-look at me now.” he flinched as Donghae pulled his face away from the other universe that he was trying to search (the one where they didn’t have to settle things like adults) and his eyes met with Donghae’s worried face. Or sad face. Or mixed up face. Or ‘please don’t leave me’ face. Hyukjae wasn’t very sure.

“I’m sorry that I freaked out.” Donghae said, breathless as he saw Hyukjae’s teary eyes. There were a few small red lines in there that looked as if they were rooted from the bulging eye bags he had from nights without sleep and nonstop working, putting up with the jobs Sungmin left behind.

“I’m sorry that I said I couldn’t trust you anymore.” Donghae’s cold hand gently palmed Hyukjae’s cheek, and the latter shut his eyes. “It’s okay, I deserved it.”

“No, no you don’t. I was shallow. I took you for granted. It was my fault.”

Donghae pulled him closer, and they both leaned until their foreheads connected. “Can’t we try any other way? Can’t you take your place back, become that big shot CEO and we still be together? Can’t we?”

Hyukjae’s body began to tremble, and a few drops of warm liquid fell onto his lap. Donghae cupped his face, and kissed him on the nose, cheeks, eyes, chin, cheeks again, and when Hyukjae stopped sniffing and wiped his nose, they stopped for a few seconds, laughed, and their lips met.

It was the same that kiss. It tasted like their first kiss at the back gate of the school, under the flickering street lamp and the skies that were getting darker with a few drops of twinkling stars. The way Hyukjae’s lips were trembling; afraid to do so yet refuse to let go. The metallic taste that came from his chapped lips, thanks to Kyuhyun’s fist, lingered as their breath mingled and heads turned.

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want you to cry like this. There’re still lots of things about you that I don’t understand, and I want to figure that all out because it’s unfair. You read me like a children’s book, but you yourself is an, an encyclopaedia. You’re full of jargons and difficult words. I need more time to read you. Ten years weren’t enough,” Donghae begged, his eyes closed and his voice trembled. Hyukjae hugged him tightly as he couldn’t say a word. Who could, when your tears were drowning you and your voice was left stuck in your throat?

“My, my, Donghae, why would old people like us are still crying like kids?” Hyukjae asked with a faint smile as his hand petted Donghae’s rough hair. Donghae buried his face in Hyukjae’s chest and mumbled.

“Because we don’t get what we want.”

Hyukjae kissed the crown of his hair, and whispered the words that were still ringing in his ears as he breathed the night air into his lungs that night;

“That’s why we need to grow up. To stop feeling sad about not getting what we want, and do what we need to do.”

Donghae shut his eyes, and smiled. Remembering the sharp jawline on Hyukjae’s pretty face, his small but sharp nose and his eyes that crinkled when he laughed, Donghae couldn’t help but agree that Hyukjae had choose to grow up and leave their paradise. And he suddenly realised it’s about time that he should, too.

-

There were few times when Kyuhyun was late for dinner and Sungmin said ‘it’s fine’ but Kyuhyun knew it was not. So he would get some doughnuts with a few cans of beers (which was not a really healthy combination but who cares?) after his meeting with clients was settled he drove straight home, and would find a lonely Sungmin sniffling over the soap drama he has been addicted to since its first episode aired a couple of weeks ago. Kyuhyun would stand leaning against the closed door behind him after taking off his shoes and stared at the slightly shivering silhouette of Sungmin’s head and shoulders from behind, thinking about what did he do while Kyuhyun was at the office, feeling guilty about leaving him at home like that. He would wait until the drama ends for that night because he usually arrived home ten minutes before the ending credits rolled up the screen, and then greeted Sungmin who would quickly wiped his tears and welcomed Kyuhyun with a wide smile and a pair of swollen eyes.

Kyuhyun often wondered if Sungmin had ever cried for him like that.

Growing old, Kyuhyun realised there were thousands of decisions made to bring people to where they were currently standing. There were decisions made that could not be undone. There were decisions that have to be made even though everybody knew they would hurt someone, and there were choices abandoned even though they could make everybody happy. Because while the whole world agreed on the simple idea that earth would be such a perfect place if everybody was contented, none would truly smile when someone really found their happiness.

When he asked Sungmin to be his husband a few weeks ago, they were in bed after a love-making scene, limbs tangled, breathings were in sync, and everything seemed to be right that moment, except that Sungmin cried, hard. He cried hard enough that his shoulders trembled and his breathing scattered. Kyuhyun remembered hugging him tight enough while being scared that he might have hurt Sungmin in some ways when he popped the question out, so he waited until Sungmin had calmed down and his sniffles quietened.

“I can’t,” Sungmin answered with trembling voice. “I can’t. I really… really. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Kyuhyun smiled as his thumbs wiped the warm tears away from Sungmin’s blurry vision. He had expected this. Hyukjae did warn him about this. Hyukjae said Sungmin has this trauma. Sungmin has this trauma about being too happy, because too often his happiness was short-lived. Too often, he had to give up something that he wanted for the sake of everyone else but him. So he refused to be too happy. Kyuhyun thought about the despicable yet charismatic Sungmin in high school. The one who strutted along the hallway with his chin up and his uniform all pressed neatly. Who thought that cocky prick was being someone he wasn’t?

Too afraid to be happy. How sad is that?

“I know. I know, so don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry because of me,” he said, kissing Sungmin’s wet eyes.

“I’m happy with you. I’m happy, really. I love you, and I’m happy. Can we leave it at that? Please?” Sungmin whispered softly, and Kyuhyun felt as if those soft-spoken words were crawling into his ears, pricking and stabbing and biting him inside out. Bleeding his invisible blood, Kyuhyun put up a smile and nodded.

Isn’t life funny?

He was so away from the idea of attachments when he was dating those girls. He laughed when they asked him about marriage, because he thought hey, living together was hard enough. He dated them only for the sake of dating, nothing else. And it suffocated him strong enough he choked for several times. But now?

Now he wanted to bind a lover to his side, and he was rejected with soft words and cruel tears. A man to top all that; a dead man to the world. If his stories were ever be retold some days, no one would believe that a logic man like him would one day proposed to a dead man for his hand in marriage.

Maybe it was karma.

“Let’s leave it at that. So please, stop crying.” He said, not sure whether it was for Sungmin or his own poor heart.

-

“I hope it won’t die on me again,” Sungmin said, wiping away the small beads of sweats that were racing down from his nape with his small pink handkerchief. The strained muscles for pushing the car a few miles alone before he finally remembered Donghae’s number were still throbbing underneath his forearms’ skin.

He watched as Donghae slammed down the hood of his second-hand Hyundai that he got a month ago after having a hard time resisting Kyuhyun’s offer to buy him a better car (because his precious lover cannot drive a local car, apparently) and offered him a cold bottled juice he took from the grocery bag on the passenger’s seat. Donghae took it from his hand - he wished it would be a beer - didn’t have any intention of rejecting it in the first place, and said thanks.

“Your water tank was leaking, and I replaced the old battery since it’s beyond its working limit. You might want to refill your cooler, though. Looks a bit empty already. Where did you get this old junk anyway? Might as well sell it and use the money as the down-payment of a newer Hyundai. I can’t believe Kyuhyun let you drive this garbage when he makes millions every time he saves some rich douche asses.” Donghae explained, criticised and insulted his car and his boyfriend in less than two minutes that Sungmin didn’t even feel like replying with sarcasm. Scratching his nape, Sungmin shrugged, laughed and patted his car as if saying ‘don’t worry, Uncle Donghae didn’t mean anything he said’.

“Cooking for dinner?” Donghae asked after he downed the whole bottle in less than one minute, eyes pointing to the bags of raw meats and veggies on the old Hyundai’s passenger seat. His glasses were clean even though his face was smothered all over with the black grease from all the cars he made intimate contacts with that day. Sungmin chuckled as he rested his back against the hopelessly broken old yellow Vitara next to where his car was, and nodded. “I hurt that old boy a few weeks ago and have wanted to somehow, you know, fix him but he was too busy.”

Donghae handed him the bottle back, and huffed loudly that it sounded fake to Sungmin. “Wow, Sungmin, you’ve really got your man on the leash. Just a dinner and everything’s fixed. For a goddamn lawyer with a hell specifically designed downstairs, you did a great job taming him.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Sungmin asked, straightforwardly. Donghae chuckled. Unlike his twisted background and love story, Sungmin is too straightforward and sometimes gullible that it would be so hard to differentiate the emotions you should be showing towards him, most of the time. Donghae wondered how Kyuhyun, who was so keen in defining people’s psychological state, is dealing with this bastard at home. He must be really in love with this guy.

Donghae peeked at the bulb-shaped clock on the right side of the wall of his workshop. It was already 6 o’clock in the evening, and his other two employees were bidding him goodbye as he washed his hands. Sungmin was still waiting for the answer to his question, so even though there were some dishes to be set on the stove for dinner, he thought it could wait until Donghae satisfied his curiosity.

“You think I’m not good enough for Kyuhyun, don’t you? You think I should just stay dead. You think Kyuhyun was better without me, don’t you?” Sungmin asked again, impatient and pissed enough to wait for the answer. Donghae took two cans of beer from the fridge behind the clerk’s desk and walked around Sungmin’s Hyundai. Jumping and landing his ass on the hood, he threw one of the beers into Sungmin’s hands and started to chug down his. Sungmin were staring at his beer when Donghae asked him a question.

“How long do you think a love could last?”

Sungmin looked up to Donghae for a while, then back to his feet, and then slowly shook his head, not seeing where Donghae wanted to go with this. The heavy revving of a car’s engine was heard; it came from Donghae’s competitor next door. Donghae shut his eyes and his forehead was scrunching as if he was deep thinking about something.

“You see, Kyuhyun used to have this kind of look on his face. He accomplished everything he wanted without fail, sure, and the look would disappear for a while, but after a while, he’d come to my house bringing cartons of beer when that look started to appear again.” Sungmin scratched his nose, unsure of what Donghae was trying to convey to him.

“What kind of look?”

“Unsatisfied. Like, his brows would be flat and his eyes would be so… vacant and longing. And when you were married, this look became permanent.” Donghae explained, and then took another sip from his can. Sungmin were drumming his fingertips on his knees.

“But then you were dead, and then you were undead… and then you became almost his.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Give me your ID. The one that he made for you.” Donghae demanded. Sungmin gave it to him almost instantly. Donghae took it and held it high, examining it as if it was a diamond. His eyes squinted as the light illuminated the card from behind. Sungmin was smiling in the small picture, like a teenager in love, and Donghae somewhat figured that it must have been Kyuhyun who captured the photo.

“You’re Vincent Lee now. The night before he handed you this, we were out drinking, and he held this ID up like this, saying ‘now I’m in love with a Vincent Lee!’ and laughed like a stupid bastard. And then I realised, the look was not there anymore. Kyuhyun was satisfied. For years, that’s the first time I ever saw him so relaxed. Because he thought he got you now.”

Sungmin took the ID back from Donghae’s hand and stared at it as if he was trying to melt it with just his eyes. The ID was acquired with Kyuhyun’s undetected connections from the legal and illegal plates. He smiled, and put it back into his wallet.

“He said he wants to marry me. But I said no. I mean, I can’t. With Hyukjae and you being separated like this, I don’t think it’s a wise thing to do, at least for now.” Sungmin said quietly, and Donghae crashed the empty beer can in his hand.

“We don’t need your sympathy.”

“I’m doing this for Hyukjae!”

“Goddamn it Sungmin stop using us as shields and be a man! Grow up and grow a fucking ball! You want to reason out everything? You want to make just everyone happy? Well, newsflash genius, you are not God! Why do you think Hyukjae chose to go back to where he belongs? Why do you think I’m not making a fuss out of it? Why do you think we’re not even trying to fix it? Because we’re scared? Because we’re waiting for you to solve it for us??” Donghae were half shouting and honestly Sungmin was a bit surprised with the words that came out from his mouth.

“We did what we did because we man up to it. We didn’t want to run anymore. We were so tired of being the ones protected blindly by people around us. So stop doing that. It might be fun while we were young and stupid to always have someone helping us keeping our shits together, but now? What good will come even if you try to protect us now? Shits happened. Some can’t be fixed anymore. And if you’re still thinking of trying now, please stop. You’ll end up hurting everyone you’re trying to protect. ”

Sungmin didn’t know what to say. Years of knowing Donghae from Hyukjae’s stories, he finally realised why his brother was so in love with this guy. Donghae is rational, and he thinks about the logical things to do, even though it will hurt him in the end. Altruism? No, more like empathy and knowing where to stop so that some people can start.

There was a very awkward and quite tensed silence between them for a couple of minutes as Donghae left Sungmin for a while and plugged out all heavy machineries from the power source. He then came back to the car and stood silently, fidgeting.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to shout at you.” Donghae apologised, palming his forehead and zipping out from his overall. Sungmin nodded three times before he finally realised that was not really suitable reaction to Donghae’s apology.

“It’s okay,” he finally said. Donghae sighed.

“I think you might want to start driving home now. It’s almost 7. I hope Kyuhyun’s gonna be late tonight or you won’t have much time,” He pointed at the clock on the wall, and Sungmin almost jumped. He checked the fresh meats and veggies at the back seat before rushing to the driver’s seat. Just about when he was reversing the car, Donghae bent down to his open window and said some words that made him hold his tears in as he was driving all the way home.

The words that made him ignore the soap drama he never missed since the premiere weeks before and waited in front of the door as Kyuhyun brought back the beers and donuts. The words that made him burst into tears when Kyuhyun said ‘I love you’ that night and made him realised how he usually took it for granted and only replied it with a smile and a kiss, and never look at Kyuhyun’s unsatisfied face.

“I asked Kyuhyun the question a few days after you were back from the dead.”

“What question?”

“How long do you think a love could last?”

“…so what did he say?” Donghae laughed, and his eyes were twinkling.

“He said, ‘this time, this time I’m going to make it forever’.”

-

That night, while Sungmin was trying to fix Kyuhyun with a nice dinner, a warm hug, and a kiss after a slow, slow and silent lovemaking -

(to which in the end he smiled and asked “won’t you ask me to marry you once again?” and Kyuhyun started to wail like a lost child in his embrace)

--Donghae was lying in his bed with no lights on, eyes were wide staring at the ceiling and it felt as if he was having a staring contest with the running lights from the cars on the streets that came through the blinds on his windows and onto the smooth concrete. The buzzing sound of the electric air purifier he bought a week after Hyukjae left were devilling his ears and as the minutes passed, the urge to somehow get up and pull the plug out of its socket were piling.

(but he liked how the purifier cleanse the damp smell from the rain that kept falling this autumn around his small apartment)

He rolled over to his right, trying to ignore the buzz and automatically, his eyes were shut tight. He knew what was there, and he didn’t want to see it tonight, of all night (but he already thought about it). Not after just a few hours of love-therapy session with Lee Sungmin.

There was a small fish alarm clock on the night stand to his right. Hyukjae bought it for his 27th birthday and he really liked it, to the point when it rang its ‘blubbing’ sound (which was very annoying that even Hyukjae would rush to kill the alarm himself and Hyukjae really never did that with their previous alarm clocks, ever) Donghae would let it ring for a couple of minutes longer before he regretfully shut it off.

“I’m a bit worried thinking how attached you are to that fucking alarm,” Hyukjae would mumble as he got up from bed and ruffled his bed hair and Donghae would grab his slender waist and pinned him down back onto the bed. Hyukjae would smack his arms (sometimes strangled his neck if all his efforts were futile) and Donghae would give him his morning kiss.

“Brush your teeth first, geez! Perverted old man!” Hyukjae would scowl and Donghae would laugh, because no matter how stinky he was in the morning and how many times Hyukjae pointed that out to him (mostly exaggerated), his kisses would always be replied. Hyukjae would still nag, and he would always try to silent him away with every kiss he got, and those kisses were always reciprocated.

Oh damn, this shit down the memory lane again.

Donghae chuckled, and slowly opened his eyes. The fish alarm clock was still there. The frame filled with red hearts where the picture of them together riding an MTV safely placed was still there. He used to hate the frame, “too girly it’s disgusting!” he told Hyukjae, and Hyukjae told him “there’s nothing you can say. I told you to pick the frame and you said it’s up to me, didn’t you?”

“I know I said that, but it’s so out of place, silly Hyukjae.” He whispered, a tad loud for himself to hear. Still pissed with the buzzing sound from the electric air purifier, Donghae got up and scanned his bedroom around. There was something quite wrong with the way things were inside the room, but he couldn’t figure out what was it, or why.

A few minutes questioning the questions about the room that he himself didn’t know he had inside his head, his phone that was placed on the night stand vibrated and fell onto the floor. Donghae cursed ‘fucking iPhone!’ before he rushed to pick it up. It was a number unregistered in his phone book, but Donghae knew this number.

Scorched onto his small brain, tattooed name on his heart, remember?

He took almost three rings to figure out that he should definitely get this call. Sliding his thumb against the green symbol on the screen, he calmly said hello.

“Oh, I didn’t think you would pick it up.” The voice at the other end of the line spoke, quaveringly. Donghae laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Of course I would. I’m still wide awake. So? How’re you doing, Hyukjae?” he asked like an old friend. They are old friends, aren’t they? Grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to the same kindergarten to middle school and high school, worked together. He knew everything about Hyukjae just as much as Hyukjae did about him. Well, at least now he knew.

“I - I’m good, good. Been busy since I started sitting in this uncomfortably large chair. How’re you? How’s the workshop?” he asked, trying to stay composed through his controlled breathing and unstable voice. Donghae shut his eyes and tried to imagine what kind of face Hyukjae was wearing right now. Was he biting his lower lip? Was he blushing, or has he gone pale? How many hours did he spend since morning just to muster the courage to pick up the phone and call him up? Donghae giggled.

“Hope you’re not forgetting to eat. Doing great. The workshop’s been busy too, so I hired another mechanic to help. Oh, and Sungmin dropped by today,” he told him, and he could hear Hyukjae softly gasped.

“I see. How is he?”

“He’s good, I guess. Though he told me Kyuhyun wanted to marry him and he was freaking out. I mean, I was surprised too. Sungmin freaking out? Kyuhyun wants to get married? What happened to the people we used to know, right?” he asked, rhetorically and laughed. He could hear Hyukjae’s laugh too from the other side.

“I guess people do change, huh?” he asked again after their laughter subsided. Hyukjae said “yeah” and Donghae nodded, as if Hyukjae could see him doing that. He was still looking around the bedroom and the call went silent for almost two minutes, with nothing said except they were listening to each other’s breathing sounds. Something that they used to listen to everyday after waking up a few months ago and they took it for granted.

Warm skins, limbs tangled, kisses exchanged, beautiful beautiful bright brown eyes staring back at him

“Why are you calling, Hyukjae?” Donghae asked with a serene voice while looking at the buzzing air purifier. The thought of wanting to pull out the plug had simmered down. He could hear the creaking sounds of the chair over the phone and figured that now Hyukjae was walking around in his office. He was wondering what kind of suit he wore today when the pictures of Hyukjae in his favourite overall, standing in front of a car, face smothered with oil and grease and dirty palms greeted him with a gummy smile inside his head.

“Because you didn’t.” Hyukjae said, his voice was soft and low, almost heart-breaking. Donghae started to feel a sharp pain in his chest.

“You know damn well that’s not the answer, Hyukjae.” He told him, his voice unwavering. He could hear a heavy sigh before Hyukjae started to speak again.

“I’m getting married.”

“Oh.” Donghae said. He instinctively turned around towards the fish alarm clock, and the heart-infested frame.

“Congratulations. Who’s the unlucky girl?” he asked teasingly. Now his eyes went to his closet. Slowly, he walked towards it and opened the wooden door. There were almost a dozen shirts with different colours hung inside.

“The third daughter of a conglomerate family. But there’s nothing business about it. She’s a doctor herself and she’s an independent girl. We’re going out for almost three months now and my mom seems to like her very much. She’s bothering me about a partner for quite some times and I think this girl is a good candidate and -” Donghae stopped him midsentence and laughed.

“Hyukjae, Hyukjae. Calm down. You don’t have to explain to me about anything. I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl, and I’m sure you also like her.” Hyukjae let out another heavy sigh, and then he started to sob.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Right now, I am well prepared with anything that’s coming from you but not this. Donghae, don’t say that.” Hyukjae was sobbing even louder, and Donghae himself started to choke on his breath.

“Hyukjae, I’m sure… that you’ll come to love her.”

“No! I’m not going to love her!”

“Hyukjae, calm down! You’re just freaking out.” Donghae thought. He didn’t know his voice was just as trembling as Hyukjae’s. Still standing in front of the opened closet, his right hand was reaching to a light blue shirt with a small yellow sun on its pocket. Hyukjae left the shirt there. It was a shirt that Donghae bought for him on impulse while they were having a budget holiday in Bali three years ago. The holiday which they took after their first workshop was bought over by a developing company for its strategic location and Donghae was pretty mad with it but Hyukjae talked him through (and it happened to be one of the most brilliant moves he had ever made because they built a better one after that with the compensation money they received). The memories of ice-creams and entwined hands by the seaside suddenly rushed to his head and there were stinging at the corners of his eyes.

“Donghae? Are you still there?” Hyukjae asked after Donghae didn’t say anything for almost a minute.

“Yeah, I’m here.” I’m not going anywhere.

“I’m sorry. I know I said let’s be grown-ups… yet I still call you like this…”

“Did you really mean it when you said that?” Donghae suddenly asked, and Hyukjae let out a thinking hum.

“Which ‘that’?”

“Let’s be grown-ups. You really mean it, don’t you?” Donghae asked again. He took out the blue shirt out from the closet, and threw it onto the bed. He waited for Hyukjae to answer his question, and a few seconds later, his sob quietened.

“Yeah. I mean it.”

“Then let’s really be grown-ups. You can’t take back anything that you said after this, though. So listen to me, very carefully.” Donghae took a deep breath, and he could hear Hyukjae was doing the same on the other side of the line.

“Lee Hyukjae, congratulations on your wedding.”

“Donghae…”

“Listen! I’m still not finished. Congratulations on your wedding. I’m sure she’s a lucky girl to have you as her husband. She sounds like a nice girl, too, and I am sure it won’t be long until you fall in love with her, completely. I hope you will have a bright future with her, and give your naggy mom some grandchildren to keep her busy with. And as your best friend, even though you still haven’t asked me yet, I’m going to give you the best wedding gift ever. Now ask me what it is.”

Hyukjae sighed again, and Donghae would really like for him to stop doing that.

“What is it, Donghae?”

Donghae laughed, and cleared his throat.

“Since you’re definitely going to freak out on your wedding day, I’m going to give you my precious time.”

“Sorry?”

Donghae chuckled. He now plucked out the back side of the heart-infested frame and took out the picture of Hyukjae and him from it.

“Silly Hyukjae. I’m saying I’m going to be your best man on your wedding day.”

There was a silence, just for a few miliseconds. Then a sob. And then Hyukjae’s voice calling for his name over and over and over again through the receiver. Asking him “why are you doing this to me??” and shouting “I will never let you come to my wedding!!”

“I will definitely be there. Fixing your bowtie and dusting your tux. I’ll make sure your hair is perfect, and your complexion will be the finest. I will pat your back when you’re nervous, and I’ll drag you down the aisle to wait for your girl.” He could feel the stinging at the corners of his eyes turned into small trickles of warm liquid. He could feel them flowing down his face. He was sure Hyukjae’s face was wet and red and he was going to have a pair of puffy eyes and cheeks when he comes to work tomorrow.

Hyukjae was still screaming his name, so Donghae asked him to calm down. He was actually surprised to hear such breakdown of a man he knew used to be so composed when faced with anything.

People change, right?

“I’m just following your footsteps, Hyukjae.”

He took the fish alarm clock from the night stand, and took the batteries out.

“I’m growing up.”

Hyukjae was still crying when he hung up the phone. After that, Donghae took a medium-sized brown box from under his bed and put the shirt, the frame and the alarm clock inside. These things don't belong in the bedroom anymore. That’s what he concluded from his questions earlier about what was wrong with the room.

Carefully, he sealed the box with a lot of tape. Then he put the box back under the bed. Tomorrow, he’s going to give it to someone who needs a shirt, an alarm clock and a picture frame. Maybe Jongwoon and Ryeowook’s pet clinic would want something new.

While forcing his eyes to shut tight underneath the blanket that didn’t really help in warming him up that night, he also promised himself to start trying to love the buzzing of the electric air purifier tomorrow, too.

-

Once, while they were still in high school, a girl from the class next to them, Soojin, sneaked into their classroom after she thought everyone had gone home and put a love letter written on a pink paper under Kyuhyun’s desk. She didn’t realised Sungmin was there in the room, underneath the teacher’s desk, looking for his phone’s keychain that fell while he was cleaning earlier (it was his and Kyuhyun’s turn to clean but Kyuhyun left early for his fake fever). Without letting her know of his presence, Sungmin silently watched her moved until she finally exited the class with a satisfied grin.

This was before their moment near the turtle pond, and it was kind of an important moment, because it was the moment that got Sungmin thinking, hard.

He started to wonder why he couldn’t bear not having a look at Kyuhyun’s face every day, even though it was just for a glance. Why he was so pissed that Kyuhyun got a girlfriend in their junior year and why he almost jumped out of happiness when a couple of weeks later, Hyukjae told him that Kyuhyun was bawling because his girlfriend cheated on him. Why, at some point, Kyuhyun’s name started to appear on the empty corners of his notes while he was studying late at night, with different fonts and different strokes, but will always be accompanied with a tiny little heart at the end of it.

“So?” Kyuhyun asked, grabbing away the newspapers that Sungmin used to hide his face out of embarrassment as he was retelling the story to Kyuhyun that morning after the night Kyuhyun put the ring onto his finger and impatiently called everyone, yelling “we’re engaged!” over the phone. Sungmin avoided Kyuhyun’s eager gaze on his face and stared fondly at the plain platinum ring on his finger instead.

He wondered if the boy with dark eyes and dark hair that he saw more than twenty years ago in the backyard of their kindergarten would imagine that one day he would be sitting together at the table, having a peaceful breakfast with the boy whom he thought was bad and tried to avoid from. That boy, what happened to him?

“What’s the reason then?” Kyuhyun asked again, munching the slightly burnt toast he made himself just now, waiting for the obvious answer he was expecting, and Sungmin’s contented eyes suddenly met his.

“I… I guess it’s because I couldn’t write you a love letter like Soojin did.” Kyuhyun almost spurted out his coffee, laughing at Sungmin’s answer. Sungmin pouted and turned away, sulking. Kyuhyun was still giggling while apologising.

“Sorry, it’s just; I was expecting a different answer.”

“What kind of answer?”

“Like maybe the reason would be that you just realised that you’ve fallen for me then, perhaps? I don’t know.”

Sungmin rubbed his temple, trying to think about something. Kyuhyun smiled, a bit satisfied seeing how beautiful the ring complemented Sungmin’s slim finger, and somehow proceeded reading the newspaper. He was finally immersed in the foreign news section when Sungmin suddenly let out a chuckle.

“I thought I’ve told you about the time I’ve started falling for you.” He somehow shivered listening as to how cheesy this conversation had become.

“No you haven’t.” Kyuhyun replied absent-mindedly. He wasn’t really listening and Sungmin shook his head, grinning.

“Well, I guess I should keep it a secret, then,” he said, almost threatening and Kyuhyun suddenly became curious about it. Sungmin got up from his seat and took his plate to the sink, ignoring Kyuhyun’s stare on him. Surprisingly, he felt as if it was the same stare coming from that boy with dark eyes and dark hair from his childhood memories again.

“Sungmin-ssi…” Kyuhyun suddenly begged as he slowly walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Sungmin’s waist. He wondered about how Sungmin was getting a bit thinner these last few weeks. Maybe he should take him out to dinner more often. Sungmin wasn’t paying him any attention so Kyuhyun pulled him into his arms tighter, and put a kiss on his bare neck.

“Write me a love letter, then. A long, long, sappy, sappy love letter about the time you fell in love with me until now. Don’t miss any detail.”

“Then I could write a book about it. It’ll be more of an autobiography.” Kyuhyun laughed and Sungmin liked the way his voice resonated against his back side. He rested his head against the tall man’s chest and let Kyuhyun’s heartbeat swayed him along with its rhythm. He wondered what kind of song it was singing.

Though of course it was actually beating his name out into every vessel in Kyuhyun’s body, but Sungmin didn’t know that

“I’d love to read it when you’re finished.”

“It could be hundreds of years from now, you know? Maybe I’ll let it be unfinished.”

Kyuhyun brought him out from the kitchen and into their bedroom. His kisses trailed from the ring on his finger up to his pinkish hot earlobe which was so not helping in covering the fast beatings of his heart right now.

“I’m fine with reading unfinished love stories. Not knowing the end means it’ll keep going forever.” Sungmin breathed in, and heaved heavily. It wasn’t a worried sigh, or a weary one. It was a contented breath. Filled with satisfaction and relief. Of knowing that he is loved. Of knowing that he can love someone without obligations. Of knowing that this time, he will fall and this time, Kyuhyun will be there to catch him.

Of knowing that they will fall together with each other until their last breath.

Sungmin closed his eyes, and he saw the boy with dark eyes and dark hair from the kindergarten. And then he saw himself as the boy whom every other boy hated because every girl was in love with him. He could see that he was lonely. He knew, of course. He wished he could tell the little him that don’t worry, that boy you saw in the backyard is going to love you more than anyone else someday. He’s going to wipe your tears and warm you on cold nights. And he’s going to teach you about the forever you once disagreed with.

When he opened his eyes again, Kyuhyun was staring at him with his dark eyes and his dark hair was messed up as Sungmin’s hand was sliding into it and locking in. Sungmin didn’t know why but he felt very nostalgic that he was almost teary when Kyuhyun kissed him tenderly, and he could taste a smile drawn on his lover’s lips against his.

Maybe the boy with the dark eyes and dark hair had always been there with him. Maybe that boy had always known. Maybe he was the one who were late to know that

-

--continuation here (LJ post limit sucks)