Beauty & The Geek [jongkey, onkey, 2min] [8/11]
Title: Beauty & The Geek
Pairing: Jongkey, Onkey, 2min
Genre: AU, Romance, Drama, Angst
Rating: PG-15 [Language, Sexual Situations, Drug Abuse, Mentions of Suicide]
Word Count: 3,432
Disclaimer(s): I own nothing.
Summary: Office romances never come without drama.
A/N: This is a longer chapter for my lovely readers! I hope you all enjoy! Also, I plan to have a second series to follow up this one - some feed back would be great! Thank you. <3
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
Beauty & The Geek : Chapter Eight
Green Light | Boston | Let Me Be The One
A tropical breeze sends white cotton curtains billowing into the room, allowing for the deep turquoise blue waters of the seashore outside to be visible. Kibum sits amidst a sea of white and sand wood on the low setting bed, one leg stretched out while the other is pulled up so he can rest his arm against his knee. A cigarette dangles from between his fingers as he gazes out at the sea.
He doesn't know what he was thinking last night, but never the less the man lying in bed next to him isn't anything to snub his nose at now that he's sober. His gorgeous deep tan and strongly defined muscles makes Kibum just want to reach out and run his fingertips down the length of exposed skin. Instead he settles for taking another drag.
He hasn't smoked in ages, ever since high school. It's a disgusting habit, nothing good comes out of - but than, he always did think clearest when he could watch the steady spiral of smoke twisting its way up to the ceiling or open sky, depending on the setting.
The man starts to stir, unraveling his arms from his sheets to rub at his eyes. Kibum has his glasses outstretched towards him before he can start searching for them. The man smiles and accepts the glasses, putting them on before peering up into Kibum's tense features.
“Hello.”
Kibum glances down at him. “Hello.”
“Do you speak English?”
“A little.”
The man hums. “My name is Daisuke.”
“Japanese?” Kibum questions absently and the man, Daisuke, nods. “My name is Kibum, I Korean.”
“Nice to meet you, Kibum,” he says, slightly butchering the pronunciation but not unforgivably, “I see you got into my stash.”
Kibum blinks at him, but when Daisuke motions at the cigarette he's in the process of lifting to his lips, he nods in understanding. “Oh, sorry. Do you … mind?” he asks, searching for the right words in his befuddled mind.
“Go ahead,” Daisuke says with a shrug.
“Thank you,” Kibum says with a polite bow, “I have, um, need for thinking.”
Daisuke smiles. “Your accent is cute,” he comments and although Kibum has no idea what he just said, he can't help but think his English accent is nice to listen to. “What are you thinking about?”
Kibum's forehead wrinkles as he tries to concoct an answer, because really, how could it hurt him to talk about his problems with some odd American? “I am thinking of relationships?”
“What about them?”
“Past one good, but now not so good.”
“Than why don't you go back to the other person?”
“It's … complicated.”
“it doesn't sound very complicated - if you don't like who you're with now, than leave them.”
Kibum frowns while his cigarette is reduced to nothing but ashes. “It's complicated,” he repeats, shaking his head, eyes trained on the view outside the window.
Shrugging, Daisuke falls back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head, to try and guess just what it is Kibum is seeing out of his window. Surely not the answers to his problems.
“The Americans won't answer any calls right now.”
Nearly inaudible are the GHD's company head's grumbling over 'fucking American holidays' as he nods and briskly enters his office. His aid knows not to pursue the topic further, in fear of losing his job, or having half of his pay docked for the month. Daeho snaps his fingers pointedly, and the man jumps and takes off for the coffee machine at break neck speed.
Just as he's settling into his high backed swivel chair, easing the strain on his tense muscles, his secretaries voice buzzes across his line. “S-sir, HR is here to see you - “ Before she can even finish, the door to Daeho's office is swung open.
He can smell the cheap, department store cologne before he sees the plastered on smiles and greasy combed back locks. No one wanted to be visited by human resources, not even the head of the company. The men have agendas of their own and are nearly untouchable.
“Hello, Daeho,” The first man greets, leaving out any polite terms as he seats himself across the vast mahogany desk.
Noting the devilish twinkle in the man's eyes, Daeho aspires silently and lets his face fall into a stern expression of unfeeling stolidity. He waves a hand for the man to continue before crossing it with his other one on his stomach.
“We have received several incriminating videos of one of your employees. The situation may lead to some critical analysis of the inner workings of this company if it is not addressed immediately.
Facial expression never budging, Daeho's grateful he's relied on his poker face for years in this business as his heart rate picks up considerably.
“The employee in question is a Kim Kibum.”
Fuck it all, this is just not his day.
“I'm sure you weren't aware of some of the going's-on in your company, a great man like you can't even be that involved, but some of your other fellow chairman might have a better idea … “
Daeho silently breathes in relief. They don't have him marked as involved. A scapegoat, all he needs is the perfect scapegoat and he'll be safe.
No matter how much time elapses, no matter the multitude of times he tells himself to get over it, Jinki just can't shake this lethargic attitude. He rolls out of bed, doesn't even bother setting the alarm anymore because he hasn't slept past 5 in the morning for weeks, and it's like there are ten pound weights tied to his feet. His morning routine is much the same as months earlier - no effort goes in to it and he's left looking like just what he is; a single guy living on his own. A loser.
Jinki stuffs his glasses on, shrugs into a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a Slowbaba navy blue long sleeve shirt and a coal Serush jacket. He almost wishes he could wear an attire to fit his slumpy mood, but Kibum had left him no choice but to get rid of all of his 'unacceptable' clothing and replace it with highly fashionable name brands.
Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, Jinki shuffles out of his apartment. When he steps out into the hall, he nearly falls flat on his face when he finds the large cat from next door beneath his feet.
“Ah!” Hopping on one foot, Jinki just manages to avoid the feline - who in turn glares up at him. What the hell? Jinki stumbles away from the animal. How is it possible for even a cat to treat him like he is the one in the way?
Shaking his head to clear it of the slightly insane thoughts running rampant - a cat couldn't possibly sense what a push over he is, right? - Jinki starts the jog down the steps leading out of the building. The exercise warms up his weary joints and keeps some of the winter chill from setting in.
The street is covered in gray slush, so Jinki has to stick to the shoulder where a pathway has been cleared. He has to look presentable today, if only to not allow for more openings for embarrassment. He's dealt with enough of that.
Jinki doesn't hear the fast approaching vehicle coming up until it's too late - a mush of melting snow and ice shower him as the car's tires throw the mixture at him. All he wants to do is scream as the slushy mess drips and slips down his face and stains his clothes.
But really, it figures.
The characters on the paper run together, lines of ink pouring together in an incoherent mess. Fingertips glide across the crisp texture of the printer paper, searching desperately for any form of meaning. Finding none, they travel upwards to run shakily through damp hair - hair soaked in sweat as his heart beats at in irregular pace - and open eyes begin to produce the image of closed lids. Body as a whole humming, stomach aching from untreated hunger and retinas burning from lack of rest, he can't pull himself together long enough to form a reasonable thought.
Jonghyun grips the edge of his desk, but he doesn't feel it, so he grips harder and still waves of nausea and discomfort topple and pour over him. He feels like he's being knocked off balance, vision swirling and mind whirling and he believes he's still sitting up straight, but since when is his book case on it's side? His seering skin accepts the cool of the wood without much effect.
When his dry mouth suddenly fills with saliva, he knows what's coming next, only he can't process the knowledge fast enough to stop the bile from climbing up his throat. He retches, and it's the most painful vomiting he's ever experienced due to his empty stomach. Muscles constrict, but there's nothing to be rid of.
Brow knit, sweat dripping down in enormous beads, Jonghyun is finally released to the clutches of darkness.
Death would be better than this.
Jinki sits at the long, short table, gathered with the rest of his family; mother, father, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even grandparents. The Lee family is not one to take food for granted, the grand splay of dishes exhuming their wealth and well to do lives. This is how it's always been, his family getting together at random occasions to celebrate good relations or what not, and it's not that he doesn't appreciate the thought and effort put into it, but the condescending looks he receives from married cousins, or the disappointment in his grandmother's gaze is almost too much to handle.
Today the topic is what a helpless boy he is, how he can't even walk a few blocks without spoiling his expensive clothes. Jinki has to take deep, calming breaths and remind himself the humiliation can be a million times worse.
Of course, life just has it out for Lee Jinki.
He should have seen it coming, the way her lights shone like two beacons, but he didn't and couldn't stop his mother before the words started to tumble excitedly from her lips. “Jinki finally has a girlfriend!”
The room freezes.
Activity bursts as everyone begins speaking at once, making motions and faces towards Jinki. Voices bring off of the white walls and the overhead light bears down on them all, casting them in an iridescent glow. It's overwhelming.
“Tell us about her!”
“Why didn't you bring her today?”
“It's a lie, right?!”
Sunny is the only one who looks just as uneasy as him.
Not only is Jinki put off that his whole family thinks it's entirely their business to know his business, but just the idea of ever revealing someone like Kibum to any of them, and their reactions … An unfamiliar crawling, itching, forms underneath his skin and before he knows it he's shouting for them all to be quiet.
“Can we just eat in peace?” He asks, losing his firm demeanor as he turns pleading eyes on his audience.
Hushed whispers rise up, whispers of “told you so!” and “ha, poor guy made it up” reaching Jinki's ears. As if it weren't hard enough dealing with the still stinging wound left on his heart, this just pushed it over the edge. Wordlessly, Jinki leaves and not even Sunny follows after him. He pushes through the restaurant's ancient doors and before he realizes it he's broken out into a run.
Gaining momentum, Jinki takes off. He doesn't know where he's going, but the burning in his lungs feels good. Blood pumps through his veins, laced with adrenaline that's potent enough to rouse up his ever dormant anger.
What gives everyone the right to step all over him? His family, his friends, even … even the person he thought - of course, it was just him who thought it - but that maybe, just maybe, he had been in love with. Jinki could handle his family knocking him over, pushing him down and laughing in his face and expecting him to just smile up at them in return, but Kibum?
That night, when they had gone back to Jinki's apartment and just talked. It had felt like they connected on so many levels. Kibum opened up to him and Jinki swore he saw a flash of life in those dull eyes. That's right, he'd never noticed it before, when he was merely infatuated with the man, just how empty those dark eyes were. It wasn't until Kibum began talking about passionate subjects that he saw a flicker behind those lifeless orbs, like the real Kibum was banging on the walls to get out but he was trapped in the expectations of work and family.
Jinki had wanted to see more of that Kibum. The Kibum that found chick flicks revolting because they romanticized the life of stupid, lustful women. The Kibum who liked to listen to the same American pop music as Jinki because it helped to escape the real world with it's intoxicating beats and lyrics. The Kibum who heard the crazy woman's cat mewling outside and brought out a dish of water and some left over fish for him. When he'd slipped back inside, he'd given Jinki the most genuine smile. That was the Kibum Jinki wanted.
The Kibum who wasn't just using him to get back at another man.
Dashing forward blindly, the wind whipping at his face and leaving a harsh burning sensation, Jinki blinks back hot tears of emotion and has to dodge an oncoming ambulance. The sirens wail, mixing in with his raw emotions to send his heart racing further.
That Kibum is still in there, somewhere. He's disappeared since Kibum has been with Jonghyun again, replaced by solemn acceptance for a life without true love.
Jinki's tired of being pushed around. For once in his life, he's going to stand up and fight for what he believes is right, and if anything in his life has ever been right, it's him and Kibum, together.
Machines beeping and whirring, bright lights flashing and deep voices speaking briskly. The space is no bigger than his walk in closet racks a higher toll on his stomach as it makes the leaping and swaying from taking curves and uneven roads at such high speeds all the more stomach churning. Kibum has to brace himself against his narrow bench seat in the back of the ambulance as they race down the street. He really doesn't feel there's a need to be going so fast, but he isn't going to argue with a crazy man.
“Damn kid!” The driver growls as he has to allow the needle on the speedometer to drop when someone almost runs in front of the rapidly moving emergency vehicle.
Clutching at his sides, begging his insides to stay put, Kibum turns his paler than normal face to the man lying on the stretcher in front of him. He'd gotten off his plane an hour earlier only to find a dozen voice and text messages from Jonghyun that were jumbles of strung out thoughts that Kibum could hardly piece together. A growing sense of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, he went straight to Jonghyun's apartment to investigate just what was going on before even stopping at his own home.
That's where he had found him, collapsed with his face planted in his own vomit. Jonghyun didn't react a bit when Kibum tried to rouse him and his pulse was faint, so he called for an ambulance to be on the safe side.
Really, his blood pressure should be soaring through the roof from anxiety and stress, but jet lag is preventing him from doing anything other than feel pity for the gorgeous man. Jonghyun didn't deserve to be like this.
Sitting, waiting, wasting away - Kibum's back aches from the uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs. All he wants to do is go home and curl up on his bed, sleep away the rest of the week. He despises the doctor examining Jonghyun for allowing so much time to pass without any word, giving Kibum way too much time to think.
His trip to Hawaii had been … eye opening. Whether it was something in the island breeze or otherwise, but something had stirred this deep feeling of discontent, to great to ignore and push down like he had for past years. Now even the luxurious lifestyle, with the perfect job, perfect house, perfect clothes - non of it feels … worth it. He wants to let go of it all and move on, find something new.
Unfortunately, Jonghyun was interrupting his plan to enact his new, drastic turns in life. The man just refused to release his hold on Kibum's heart.
“Can we see him yet?”
The soft voice floated to Kibum, shaking him from his revere. Glancing up from the dark speckled linoleum flooring of the hospital and in to the shorter man's inquisitive brown eyes, Kibum shakes his head.
“You got here fast, Kikwang,” He comments, while absently wishing for another cigarette.
Taking a seat one down from him, Kikwang just lets out a short wisp of breath from his nose. “You take me too lightly.”
Kibum analyzes the striking features on the secretary and how strained they're becoming. “You're right,” he relents, looking away and allowing the back of his head to rest against the wall.
Kikwang blinks, taken aback, but doesn't comment. The duo awaits news on Jonghyun in silence, only the small television in the corner of the waiting room filling the empty space with meaningless chatter. People pass in and out on noticed. Finally, a nurse calls them back.
“It appears Mr. Kim has over worked himself,” The doctor says, clipboard clasped against his outer thigh as they stand outside Jonghyun's room, “Young people these day really don't take care of themselves properly. He will need to stay here until he's re-hydrated and rested.”
Kibum and Kikwang nod along with his words mechanically.
“Also, you might want to watch that he doesn't try to self medicate himself. We found a nearly disastrous amount of … “
Kibum doesn't listen to the rest of what the doctor says. So Jonghyun tried to overdose again? It's like an impossible battle, trying to keep him stable. Kibum thought he could help, but apparently he hadn't made any affect on Jonghyun's detrimental habit.
“You can go in now,” The doctor's drones, nodding before striding away.
Kikwang doesn't waste any time before entering the room, leaving Kibum to softly shut the door behind them. The still form on the bed doesn't show any signs of recognition as Kikwang drags a chair to the bed's side. Kibum can't get his feet to move - a year ago, Jonghyun would have looked so unnatural in such a sterilized setting, but now … The once lively man looks completely drained, even his fake tan and dyed hair can't hide his washed out features.
“He must be really tired,” Kikwang chirps, brushing the back of his hand over Jonghyun's sweltering forehead.
Standing a few feet away, Kibum shuts his eyes. “Don't lie to yourself.”
“Excuse me?” Kikwang asks, wheeling his dewy gaze on Kibum.
“He tried to kill himself again.”
“Again? He didn't - “
“He's fucked up, kid.”
Kikwang sniffs. “I'm not a kid.”
“Than stop pretending Jonghyun's just fine.”
“What should I do?” Kikwang snaps, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Good question. Kibum shrugs. “You can't do anything, he's got to deal himself.”
Automatically, Kikwang takes hold of Jonghyun's hand, resting on top of the stark white sheet. “I'm not going to just abandon him like that.”
It shocks Kibum out of his numb state, the look of pure determination, the fire behind those words. He nearly stumbles backwards at their intensity. To have so much faith in a person - it was unheard of, Kibum can't picture anyone else he knows holding that kind of resolve towards someone other than themselves.
“Ermph … “ The groan draws both of their attentions quickly to the hospital bed.
Kikwang eagerly rubs Jonghyun's feverish skin as he stirs. “Baby,” he sing songs as Jonghyun's eyes inch open, “How do you feel?”
Groggily, Jonghyun tries to pull his arm up so he can scrub a palm over his face to wash away his disorientation, but is stopped by the IV drip. “Wha … ?”
“You over worked yourself,” Kikwang explains quickly, smiling warmly, “You have to stay here and rest for a little bit.”
Jonghyun doesn't say anything, brows furrowing as if it takes all of his mind power just to follow what Kikwang is telling him. Stepping forward, Kibum clears his throat to make his presence known.
“Oh, it's you,” Jonghyun comments, voice rough with sleep.
Kibum frowns. “How are you feeling?”
“How do I look like I'm feeling?”
Kibum nods in understanding, than looks down to study his nail beds. “Well, I just got back from the States … “
“Don't feel like you have to stay.”
Biting down on his bottom lip, all Kibum can do is nod. He gives a small wave before slinking out of the hospital room.
Jinki has been pacing outside Kibum's apartment for at least two hours. He's lost the feeling in his fingers and toes, but he doesn't care - he'll wait outside this solid red door for days in this frigid weather if he has to. Red tipped nose dripping snot, he reaches up to rub at it just as he turns to pace towards the staircase.
That's when he appears.
Outlined by the dusky sky outside, Kibum is dragging a suitcase along behind him with a duffel slung over his shoulder as he ascends the final step.
“I can't believe the fucking elevator is out of order,” he groans to himself just as he looks up and locks eyes with Jinki. He stops dead in his tracks. “Jinki?”
“Kibum!” Jinki cries in shock, wondering if it's his frozen brain playing tricks on him or if Kibum has finally returned.
Regaining his foot falls, Kibum continues down the hall until he's standing in front of the other man. “What are you doing here?”
Jinki plants his feet firmly on the ground. “I've come here to … well, win you back?”
“Look, Jinki, I don't have time for this right now,” Kibum says, trying to brush passed him while punching in the code to get in to his apartment.
Jinki takes hold of his hand, stopping him from entering in the rest of the code. “I'm serious, Kibum. I've spent the past weeks thinking about only you. I can't accept your relationship with Jonghyun.”
“This is really cute, you deciding to grow a pair and all, but I don't - “
“Kibum.”
And there's that look again. Jinki's soft brown eyes are strong with a fiery passion so foreign to the normally docile man. Kibum feels like the breath has been sucked out of him.
“F-fine,” he manages to get out, “But you'd better come inside before you freeze to death.”
Previous | Next
Pairing: Jongkey, Onkey, 2min
Genre: AU, Romance, Drama, Angst
Rating: PG-15 [Language, Sexual Situations, Drug Abuse, Mentions of Suicide]
Word Count: 3,432
Disclaimer(s): I own nothing.
Summary: Office romances never come without drama.
A/N: This is a longer chapter for my lovely readers! I hope you all enjoy! Also, I plan to have a second series to follow up this one - some feed back would be great! Thank you. <3
Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven
Beauty & The Geek : Chapter Eight
Green Light | Boston | Let Me Be The One
A tropical breeze sends white cotton curtains billowing into the room, allowing for the deep turquoise blue waters of the seashore outside to be visible. Kibum sits amidst a sea of white and sand wood on the low setting bed, one leg stretched out while the other is pulled up so he can rest his arm against his knee. A cigarette dangles from between his fingers as he gazes out at the sea.
He doesn't know what he was thinking last night, but never the less the man lying in bed next to him isn't anything to snub his nose at now that he's sober. His gorgeous deep tan and strongly defined muscles makes Kibum just want to reach out and run his fingertips down the length of exposed skin. Instead he settles for taking another drag.
He hasn't smoked in ages, ever since high school. It's a disgusting habit, nothing good comes out of - but than, he always did think clearest when he could watch the steady spiral of smoke twisting its way up to the ceiling or open sky, depending on the setting.
The man starts to stir, unraveling his arms from his sheets to rub at his eyes. Kibum has his glasses outstretched towards him before he can start searching for them. The man smiles and accepts the glasses, putting them on before peering up into Kibum's tense features.
“Hello.”
Kibum glances down at him. “Hello.”
“Do you speak English?”
“A little.”
The man hums. “My name is Daisuke.”
“Japanese?” Kibum questions absently and the man, Daisuke, nods. “My name is Kibum, I Korean.”
“Nice to meet you, Kibum,” he says, slightly butchering the pronunciation but not unforgivably, “I see you got into my stash.”
Kibum blinks at him, but when Daisuke motions at the cigarette he's in the process of lifting to his lips, he nods in understanding. “Oh, sorry. Do you … mind?” he asks, searching for the right words in his befuddled mind.
“Go ahead,” Daisuke says with a shrug.
“Thank you,” Kibum says with a polite bow, “I have, um, need for thinking.”
Daisuke smiles. “Your accent is cute,” he comments and although Kibum has no idea what he just said, he can't help but think his English accent is nice to listen to. “What are you thinking about?”
Kibum's forehead wrinkles as he tries to concoct an answer, because really, how could it hurt him to talk about his problems with some odd American? “I am thinking of relationships?”
“What about them?”
“Past one good, but now not so good.”
“Than why don't you go back to the other person?”
“It's … complicated.”
“it doesn't sound very complicated - if you don't like who you're with now, than leave them.”
Kibum frowns while his cigarette is reduced to nothing but ashes. “It's complicated,” he repeats, shaking his head, eyes trained on the view outside the window.
Shrugging, Daisuke falls back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head, to try and guess just what it is Kibum is seeing out of his window. Surely not the answers to his problems.
“The Americans won't answer any calls right now.”
Nearly inaudible are the GHD's company head's grumbling over 'fucking American holidays' as he nods and briskly enters his office. His aid knows not to pursue the topic further, in fear of losing his job, or having half of his pay docked for the month. Daeho snaps his fingers pointedly, and the man jumps and takes off for the coffee machine at break neck speed.
Just as he's settling into his high backed swivel chair, easing the strain on his tense muscles, his secretaries voice buzzes across his line. “S-sir, HR is here to see you - “ Before she can even finish, the door to Daeho's office is swung open.
He can smell the cheap, department store cologne before he sees the plastered on smiles and greasy combed back locks. No one wanted to be visited by human resources, not even the head of the company. The men have agendas of their own and are nearly untouchable.
“Hello, Daeho,” The first man greets, leaving out any polite terms as he seats himself across the vast mahogany desk.
Noting the devilish twinkle in the man's eyes, Daeho aspires silently and lets his face fall into a stern expression of unfeeling stolidity. He waves a hand for the man to continue before crossing it with his other one on his stomach.
“We have received several incriminating videos of one of your employees. The situation may lead to some critical analysis of the inner workings of this company if it is not addressed immediately.
Facial expression never budging, Daeho's grateful he's relied on his poker face for years in this business as his heart rate picks up considerably.
“The employee in question is a Kim Kibum.”
Fuck it all, this is just not his day.
“I'm sure you weren't aware of some of the going's-on in your company, a great man like you can't even be that involved, but some of your other fellow chairman might have a better idea … “
Daeho silently breathes in relief. They don't have him marked as involved. A scapegoat, all he needs is the perfect scapegoat and he'll be safe.
No matter how much time elapses, no matter the multitude of times he tells himself to get over it, Jinki just can't shake this lethargic attitude. He rolls out of bed, doesn't even bother setting the alarm anymore because he hasn't slept past 5 in the morning for weeks, and it's like there are ten pound weights tied to his feet. His morning routine is much the same as months earlier - no effort goes in to it and he's left looking like just what he is; a single guy living on his own. A loser.
Jinki stuffs his glasses on, shrugs into a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, a Slowbaba navy blue long sleeve shirt and a coal Serush jacket. He almost wishes he could wear an attire to fit his slumpy mood, but Kibum had left him no choice but to get rid of all of his 'unacceptable' clothing and replace it with highly fashionable name brands.
Stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets, Jinki shuffles out of his apartment. When he steps out into the hall, he nearly falls flat on his face when he finds the large cat from next door beneath his feet.
“Ah!” Hopping on one foot, Jinki just manages to avoid the feline - who in turn glares up at him. What the hell? Jinki stumbles away from the animal. How is it possible for even a cat to treat him like he is the one in the way?
Shaking his head to clear it of the slightly insane thoughts running rampant - a cat couldn't possibly sense what a push over he is, right? - Jinki starts the jog down the steps leading out of the building. The exercise warms up his weary joints and keeps some of the winter chill from setting in.
The street is covered in gray slush, so Jinki has to stick to the shoulder where a pathway has been cleared. He has to look presentable today, if only to not allow for more openings for embarrassment. He's dealt with enough of that.
Jinki doesn't hear the fast approaching vehicle coming up until it's too late - a mush of melting snow and ice shower him as the car's tires throw the mixture at him. All he wants to do is scream as the slushy mess drips and slips down his face and stains his clothes.
But really, it figures.
The characters on the paper run together, lines of ink pouring together in an incoherent mess. Fingertips glide across the crisp texture of the printer paper, searching desperately for any form of meaning. Finding none, they travel upwards to run shakily through damp hair - hair soaked in sweat as his heart beats at in irregular pace - and open eyes begin to produce the image of closed lids. Body as a whole humming, stomach aching from untreated hunger and retinas burning from lack of rest, he can't pull himself together long enough to form a reasonable thought.
Jonghyun grips the edge of his desk, but he doesn't feel it, so he grips harder and still waves of nausea and discomfort topple and pour over him. He feels like he's being knocked off balance, vision swirling and mind whirling and he believes he's still sitting up straight, but since when is his book case on it's side? His seering skin accepts the cool of the wood without much effect.
When his dry mouth suddenly fills with saliva, he knows what's coming next, only he can't process the knowledge fast enough to stop the bile from climbing up his throat. He retches, and it's the most painful vomiting he's ever experienced due to his empty stomach. Muscles constrict, but there's nothing to be rid of.
Brow knit, sweat dripping down in enormous beads, Jonghyun is finally released to the clutches of darkness.
Death would be better than this.
Jinki sits at the long, short table, gathered with the rest of his family; mother, father, sister, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even grandparents. The Lee family is not one to take food for granted, the grand splay of dishes exhuming their wealth and well to do lives. This is how it's always been, his family getting together at random occasions to celebrate good relations or what not, and it's not that he doesn't appreciate the thought and effort put into it, but the condescending looks he receives from married cousins, or the disappointment in his grandmother's gaze is almost too much to handle.
Today the topic is what a helpless boy he is, how he can't even walk a few blocks without spoiling his expensive clothes. Jinki has to take deep, calming breaths and remind himself the humiliation can be a million times worse.
Of course, life just has it out for Lee Jinki.
He should have seen it coming, the way her lights shone like two beacons, but he didn't and couldn't stop his mother before the words started to tumble excitedly from her lips. “Jinki finally has a girlfriend!”
The room freezes.
Activity bursts as everyone begins speaking at once, making motions and faces towards Jinki. Voices bring off of the white walls and the overhead light bears down on them all, casting them in an iridescent glow. It's overwhelming.
“Tell us about her!”
“Why didn't you bring her today?”
“It's a lie, right?!”
Sunny is the only one who looks just as uneasy as him.
Not only is Jinki put off that his whole family thinks it's entirely their business to know his business, but just the idea of ever revealing someone like Kibum to any of them, and their reactions … An unfamiliar crawling, itching, forms underneath his skin and before he knows it he's shouting for them all to be quiet.
“Can we just eat in peace?” He asks, losing his firm demeanor as he turns pleading eyes on his audience.
Hushed whispers rise up, whispers of “told you so!” and “ha, poor guy made it up” reaching Jinki's ears. As if it weren't hard enough dealing with the still stinging wound left on his heart, this just pushed it over the edge. Wordlessly, Jinki leaves and not even Sunny follows after him. He pushes through the restaurant's ancient doors and before he realizes it he's broken out into a run.
Gaining momentum, Jinki takes off. He doesn't know where he's going, but the burning in his lungs feels good. Blood pumps through his veins, laced with adrenaline that's potent enough to rouse up his ever dormant anger.
What gives everyone the right to step all over him? His family, his friends, even … even the person he thought - of course, it was just him who thought it - but that maybe, just maybe, he had been in love with. Jinki could handle his family knocking him over, pushing him down and laughing in his face and expecting him to just smile up at them in return, but Kibum?
That night, when they had gone back to Jinki's apartment and just talked. It had felt like they connected on so many levels. Kibum opened up to him and Jinki swore he saw a flash of life in those dull eyes. That's right, he'd never noticed it before, when he was merely infatuated with the man, just how empty those dark eyes were. It wasn't until Kibum began talking about passionate subjects that he saw a flicker behind those lifeless orbs, like the real Kibum was banging on the walls to get out but he was trapped in the expectations of work and family.
Jinki had wanted to see more of that Kibum. The Kibum that found chick flicks revolting because they romanticized the life of stupid, lustful women. The Kibum who liked to listen to the same American pop music as Jinki because it helped to escape the real world with it's intoxicating beats and lyrics. The Kibum who heard the crazy woman's cat mewling outside and brought out a dish of water and some left over fish for him. When he'd slipped back inside, he'd given Jinki the most genuine smile. That was the Kibum Jinki wanted.
The Kibum who wasn't just using him to get back at another man.
Dashing forward blindly, the wind whipping at his face and leaving a harsh burning sensation, Jinki blinks back hot tears of emotion and has to dodge an oncoming ambulance. The sirens wail, mixing in with his raw emotions to send his heart racing further.
That Kibum is still in there, somewhere. He's disappeared since Kibum has been with Jonghyun again, replaced by solemn acceptance for a life without true love.
Jinki's tired of being pushed around. For once in his life, he's going to stand up and fight for what he believes is right, and if anything in his life has ever been right, it's him and Kibum, together.
Machines beeping and whirring, bright lights flashing and deep voices speaking briskly. The space is no bigger than his walk in closet racks a higher toll on his stomach as it makes the leaping and swaying from taking curves and uneven roads at such high speeds all the more stomach churning. Kibum has to brace himself against his narrow bench seat in the back of the ambulance as they race down the street. He really doesn't feel there's a need to be going so fast, but he isn't going to argue with a crazy man.
“Damn kid!” The driver growls as he has to allow the needle on the speedometer to drop when someone almost runs in front of the rapidly moving emergency vehicle.
Clutching at his sides, begging his insides to stay put, Kibum turns his paler than normal face to the man lying on the stretcher in front of him. He'd gotten off his plane an hour earlier only to find a dozen voice and text messages from Jonghyun that were jumbles of strung out thoughts that Kibum could hardly piece together. A growing sense of dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, he went straight to Jonghyun's apartment to investigate just what was going on before even stopping at his own home.
That's where he had found him, collapsed with his face planted in his own vomit. Jonghyun didn't react a bit when Kibum tried to rouse him and his pulse was faint, so he called for an ambulance to be on the safe side.
Really, his blood pressure should be soaring through the roof from anxiety and stress, but jet lag is preventing him from doing anything other than feel pity for the gorgeous man. Jonghyun didn't deserve to be like this.
Sitting, waiting, wasting away - Kibum's back aches from the uncomfortable hospital waiting room chairs. All he wants to do is go home and curl up on his bed, sleep away the rest of the week. He despises the doctor examining Jonghyun for allowing so much time to pass without any word, giving Kibum way too much time to think.
His trip to Hawaii had been … eye opening. Whether it was something in the island breeze or otherwise, but something had stirred this deep feeling of discontent, to great to ignore and push down like he had for past years. Now even the luxurious lifestyle, with the perfect job, perfect house, perfect clothes - non of it feels … worth it. He wants to let go of it all and move on, find something new.
Unfortunately, Jonghyun was interrupting his plan to enact his new, drastic turns in life. The man just refused to release his hold on Kibum's heart.
“Can we see him yet?”
The soft voice floated to Kibum, shaking him from his revere. Glancing up from the dark speckled linoleum flooring of the hospital and in to the shorter man's inquisitive brown eyes, Kibum shakes his head.
“You got here fast, Kikwang,” He comments, while absently wishing for another cigarette.
Taking a seat one down from him, Kikwang just lets out a short wisp of breath from his nose. “You take me too lightly.”
Kibum analyzes the striking features on the secretary and how strained they're becoming. “You're right,” he relents, looking away and allowing the back of his head to rest against the wall.
Kikwang blinks, taken aback, but doesn't comment. The duo awaits news on Jonghyun in silence, only the small television in the corner of the waiting room filling the empty space with meaningless chatter. People pass in and out on noticed. Finally, a nurse calls them back.
“It appears Mr. Kim has over worked himself,” The doctor says, clipboard clasped against his outer thigh as they stand outside Jonghyun's room, “Young people these day really don't take care of themselves properly. He will need to stay here until he's re-hydrated and rested.”
Kibum and Kikwang nod along with his words mechanically.
“Also, you might want to watch that he doesn't try to self medicate himself. We found a nearly disastrous amount of … “
Kibum doesn't listen to the rest of what the doctor says. So Jonghyun tried to overdose again? It's like an impossible battle, trying to keep him stable. Kibum thought he could help, but apparently he hadn't made any affect on Jonghyun's detrimental habit.
“You can go in now,” The doctor's drones, nodding before striding away.
Kikwang doesn't waste any time before entering the room, leaving Kibum to softly shut the door behind them. The still form on the bed doesn't show any signs of recognition as Kikwang drags a chair to the bed's side. Kibum can't get his feet to move - a year ago, Jonghyun would have looked so unnatural in such a sterilized setting, but now … The once lively man looks completely drained, even his fake tan and dyed hair can't hide his washed out features.
“He must be really tired,” Kikwang chirps, brushing the back of his hand over Jonghyun's sweltering forehead.
Standing a few feet away, Kibum shuts his eyes. “Don't lie to yourself.”
“Excuse me?” Kikwang asks, wheeling his dewy gaze on Kibum.
“He tried to kill himself again.”
“Again? He didn't - “
“He's fucked up, kid.”
Kikwang sniffs. “I'm not a kid.”
“Than stop pretending Jonghyun's just fine.”
“What should I do?” Kikwang snaps, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
Good question. Kibum shrugs. “You can't do anything, he's got to deal himself.”
Automatically, Kikwang takes hold of Jonghyun's hand, resting on top of the stark white sheet. “I'm not going to just abandon him like that.”
It shocks Kibum out of his numb state, the look of pure determination, the fire behind those words. He nearly stumbles backwards at their intensity. To have so much faith in a person - it was unheard of, Kibum can't picture anyone else he knows holding that kind of resolve towards someone other than themselves.
“Ermph … “ The groan draws both of their attentions quickly to the hospital bed.
Kikwang eagerly rubs Jonghyun's feverish skin as he stirs. “Baby,” he sing songs as Jonghyun's eyes inch open, “How do you feel?”
Groggily, Jonghyun tries to pull his arm up so he can scrub a palm over his face to wash away his disorientation, but is stopped by the IV drip. “Wha … ?”
“You over worked yourself,” Kikwang explains quickly, smiling warmly, “You have to stay here and rest for a little bit.”
Jonghyun doesn't say anything, brows furrowing as if it takes all of his mind power just to follow what Kikwang is telling him. Stepping forward, Kibum clears his throat to make his presence known.
“Oh, it's you,” Jonghyun comments, voice rough with sleep.
Kibum frowns. “How are you feeling?”
“How do I look like I'm feeling?”
Kibum nods in understanding, than looks down to study his nail beds. “Well, I just got back from the States … “
“Don't feel like you have to stay.”
Biting down on his bottom lip, all Kibum can do is nod. He gives a small wave before slinking out of the hospital room.
Jinki has been pacing outside Kibum's apartment for at least two hours. He's lost the feeling in his fingers and toes, but he doesn't care - he'll wait outside this solid red door for days in this frigid weather if he has to. Red tipped nose dripping snot, he reaches up to rub at it just as he turns to pace towards the staircase.
That's when he appears.
Outlined by the dusky sky outside, Kibum is dragging a suitcase along behind him with a duffel slung over his shoulder as he ascends the final step.
“I can't believe the fucking elevator is out of order,” he groans to himself just as he looks up and locks eyes with Jinki. He stops dead in his tracks. “Jinki?”
“Kibum!” Jinki cries in shock, wondering if it's his frozen brain playing tricks on him or if Kibum has finally returned.
Regaining his foot falls, Kibum continues down the hall until he's standing in front of the other man. “What are you doing here?”
Jinki plants his feet firmly on the ground. “I've come here to … well, win you back?”
“Look, Jinki, I don't have time for this right now,” Kibum says, trying to brush passed him while punching in the code to get in to his apartment.
Jinki takes hold of his hand, stopping him from entering in the rest of the code. “I'm serious, Kibum. I've spent the past weeks thinking about only you. I can't accept your relationship with Jonghyun.”
“This is really cute, you deciding to grow a pair and all, but I don't - “
“Kibum.”
And there's that look again. Jinki's soft brown eyes are strong with a fiery passion so foreign to the normally docile man. Kibum feels like the breath has been sucked out of him.
“F-fine,” he manages to get out, “But you'd better come inside before you freeze to death.”
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