upside down. (part one) ; onew x key ; pg-16
"upside down (part one).
one-shot / onew x key / pg 16 / (5,037/11,401 words)
→ Every night Kibum was left alone, he hangs down the balcony railings, upside down, legs hooked in rusting bars, and breathes the cold air that prevails every time he breathes. They were just beautifully wasted, Jinki thinks.
Collar bones.
It’s those perfectly embossed bones carved in his impossibly beautiful pale neck. The way they don’t disappear tells him he hasn’t been too well, unfed and unknowingly lonely, since god knows when. Those bones glisten when sunshine hits them first thing in the morning. It’s those clavicles his lips like to taste every dark night, hands touching bare skin. It’s those clavicles his teeth gently gnaw when his head is spinning and his heart palpitates abnormally when proximity didn’t have a meaning and body heat was the only thing that mattered. Oh, how they’re further sharpened when he breathes, inhales and buries his problems inside him. It’s those clavicles that define Kim Kibum.
-
He was a wanderer of some sort and he likes to call him that, trying to work his way out of his own problems. He tried conquering the world by working at a small café in Apgujeong as a barista. What world was he conquering anyway? As confident as he was in being all that and being “all smarts”, he had no face, no dignity, no guts, nothing to show and return at his home in Gwangmyeong. Doing coffee art, attending to people and snooping around other people’s businesses was the new definition of “conquering” himself and apparently, it’s what he’s grown accustomed to besides being a complete klutz. He just wouldn’t admit that he’s been defeated after being ambitious enough to set out at a young age, 17, to be independent and live on his own. To him, home didn’t really feel like home.
“Hey, Lee Jinki!”
A hand wavers in front of his dazed eyes. He’s always been daydreaming and setting illusions for himself to get a personal and intentional headache. The bags under his eyes were as dragging as ever. It was always difficult to transfer from one home to another because one, he didn’t have a place to reside in and two, he didn’t have the money to get his own. He does have friends. At least, he thinks he does. He believes he does. If it wasn’t true, he would be penniless and freezing in the streets, homeless and lonely.
The hand in front of him finally stops and the owner shoots at him straight in the eye, “You told me you’re telling me something important?”
His heart flutters up and finally, he comes back to his senses. Jinki buries his hands on the pockets of his brown apron and leans his back on the glass covered sweets and cakes their store was known for. He was talking to a co-barista, a friend he considers, who was letting him stay in his crowded apartment along four others.
“Ah, yes, Minho. I found a place to stay on my own. It’s not that much but then I realized that I’ve been staying with you and the others for quite a while and…and…thank you for taking me in. You know, for taking me in even if there were other four sharing one room and for letting me not pay part of the rent. I- I will pay you, I swear. I hope I wasn’t much of a burden,” he finishes it off as quickly as he could because he knows he’ll end up stuttering.
Minho, who was wearing the same black get-up and brown apron, was all smiles listening to him give his words of gratitude. It’s been two months since he’s been residing with Minho and it’s about time considerations were to end. Jinki bows in the middle of the now crowded café to give his thanks. Minho, on the other hand, grabs him by the hand and pulls him for a tight embrace. Minho was the only one who kept up with his ambitions and fuck ups. They exchanged strong bro-pats in the back while Minho whispered, “You’re always welcome to come back.”
It was nothing much. It was two weeks ago when Jinki was cleaning up some coffee tables before finishing his shift. The café was never empty but every 9 o’clock, only a spoonful of people were up for coffee. Before returning the newspapers in their respective racks, the classified ads were separated from the bundle. Jinki looked from behind and saw Minho attending to customers. “I should go,” he whispers to himself. And for once, he’s really sure about this.
That one ad was really plain looking but offered more than he’d want. An apartment in downtown Apgujeong which was fifteen minutes far from the café he was working in. If he’d ride his bicycle, it would take ten minutes. Though, there was an occupant already. It didn’t matter. Jinki’s survived with four others. How hard can it get, anyway? He hopes to get along with the occupant even if there wasn’t any chance.
Anyone can hope.
He dials the number in the ad and nervously taps on the table top. It takes three rings before a very gentle lady voice answers the call. It was a very sing song tone letting him take time to reply. He stutters, of course. “Y-yes, I’m interested in getting the room in today’s ads.”
Jinki was always the shy boy who’d rather hide in his room rather than socializing with fancy people. The fanciness scares him. He has issues of his own. The lady on the other line sounded really ecstatic as if the ad existed for a very long time and someone considerate is finally taking the spot. The call finishes with a concrete deal and he was more than happy to even get his life progressing.
Jinki asked his boss if he could leave an hour earlier to get his things back at Minho’s house before heading on to his new home. He gets an approval and before he knew it, he was bidding farewell to the four other bed spacers he’s grown up with for the past two months. It was never close to being easy being crammed up that little four cornered room. It stank of man-scent, mixed perfume, piss, raging pheromones, sweat and rotting food. If there was anything that wasn’t repelling, that would be the bond they shared every time all of them were home.
“Don’t forget about us,” the youngest of the four named Taemin says like it was even possible for Jinki to even do.
Jinki smiles to himself and drags his duffel out of his two month home.
“Don’t forget about me.”
-
The sky was painted hot orange and purple as the sun dropped down Apgujeong’s horizon, fading as the sun pulled the moon out to light the black sky. It wasn’t at all hard for him to hail a taxi. The lights were starting to come alive and the streets that were so familiar to him will soon become that stranger if he survives living somewhere else. He was so used to this anyway. He closes his eyes and thinks mostly about what the scent of his new home will be or how kind the occupant is or how beautiful the lady from across the line really was. And then, he was dreaming.
Soon enough, the cab driver was poking him on his side which caused Jinki to hit the driver on the face with his large palms. His cheeks flushed red as he asked, begged even, for forgiveness. Who would poke at someone’s sides anyway?
It was a tall building with walls stained with those black drippings the rain would leave. The smell of noodles and barbeque from the kiosks across the building wafted the air and he hears his empty stomach fumble a little. It looked so similar to all the middle-class apartments across Seoul; tall and aging. The wind blew on his hair, tickling his neck and ears for a bit, and it was so cold that he sensed the night creeping up.
A lady at her 40’s walked down the building steps with her hundred-watt grin and open arms.
“You must be Lee Jinki!”
And she must be the lady he spoke too. Sing song, yes. Beautiful? Not as much. She reeked of grandma perfume and those fragrant oils that never really were fragrant.
Funny how his mind speaks more than his mouth does. Hah.
She oriented him on the dos and don’ts of the apartment: no drugs, no sluts, no smoking in air conditioned spots and definitely not being a klutz. It seemed like the apartment forbade him to enter.
“The occupant’s name is Kim Kibum, just about your age maybe. I don’t quite know if he’s around right now but here’re the keys. Thank you again, Jinki-ah. The ad’s been up on the papers for quite a long time now,” Sing-song says. Now, he’ll call her Sing-song.
Kim Kibum, huh? His heart pounded as much as the elevator shook as they were flying up the 16th floor. Judging from the “he’s not around” phrase means he’s probably that fancy socialite he’s been totally afraid of. Totally. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back to Minho’s, where it reeked of man-sweat and piss. He was always welcome to come back, right?
His palms were spewing sweat that it wasn’t even funny. The keys were slipping and leaving that blood-metal scented smell that made him feel nauseated. His forehead was starting to sweat as well. “Come on. Come on,” he encouragingly whispers to himself multiple times until he reached door number 166. He double-checked his keys that had a keychain labeled 166. Jinki pressed his ears on the wooden door, unique and more intricate than the other doors. He was hoping as much that this Kim Kibum wasn’t home, at all. He listens for one whole minute and hears nothing but the sound of the neighboring kids’ laughter. He knocks, and asks classily if anyone was home. No reply. Jinki breathes his last before inserting the key on the door lock, entering his new home. At least, if you can call it home.
Pleasant, really.
Only if there weren’t magazine splattered across the floor.
And there weren’t boys, hanging upside down on the balcony railings, trying to end lives.
It takes him a millisecond to paint his eyes shocked.
“Shit, don’t!” he cursed under his breath as soon as he stepped foot on the magazine laden floor.
His shoes struggled as much as if the magazines were some kind of sinking pit that’ll drag your soul inside the fashion advertisements that bathed on the pages. If this was the Kim Kibum Sing-song was talking about, then he was a big suicidal lunatic hanging upside down on his thin legs on the balcony railings trying to end his life. Jinki slips on what he thinks were Nylon magazines but he tries his best to stand on both legs just to save his now new roommate. Jinki pulls his roommate by his legs, then grabs the hem of his very loose beater and holds one of Kibum’s arms.
“What are you doing?!” Jinki screams at the top of his lungs while he locked eyes with a thin pale boy whose face looks like it has been drained from sadness and food. He was beautiful. His dark almond eyes spoke of words Jinki couldn’t comprehend to but it brought shivers down his spine but as he held on to his arms, the coldness of his skin was nothing compared to the coldness of his heart when he left his home. It was silent for a while, because when Jinki tried to speak, the lump in his throat was very much choking him up. He realizes that his grip was tighter every second and for Kibum, it didn’t really hurt. Unknowingly, Jinki’s eyes were welling as his stomach leaned against the rusting railings, head facing the far drop from the 16th floor and eyes glued to this beautiful kid he was trying to save. He feels the vomit lurching forward.
Finally, Kibum lifts himself up, hands pulling Jinki’s own and before he knew it, Kibum was steady on the railings swinging his feet and hands gripping on the rusting steel. He removes Jinki’s palms from his arms and wipes the sweat off his thin ones. The looseness of his beater exposed much of his milky white skin and embossed bones that were impossibly visible. Kibum’s hair was like of auburn wood and fire and god, his lips were perfectly carved as well as his jaw line.
“What were you doing?” Jinki repeats as his eyes welled up even more, blurring the face of Kibum. Kibum’s lips curled to the side, animating a small smile.
“Not killing myself.”
He says it with much arrogance and mockery but all Jinki could do was let out a sigh of relief.
Jinki’s legs were shaking more than they were when he was on the elevator. He had his fists balled to his sides and his head bowed down like he was someone who was robbed of his lunch money. The neckline of his beater was just so low the whiteness that his chest illuminated was alluring. He wipes the corner of his eyes hoping that Kibum doesn’t notice.
“Hey,” Kibum calls out and pokes Jinki’s stomach with his worn out boots.
“Hey,” Kibum repeats after he wasn’t given a reply. “Hey, kid. Look at me.”
He didn’t know what to feel but the anger inside him was eating him up that he wanted to punch Kibum in the face after the ‘kid’ remark when he’s obviously older than this boy. But he wasn’t the one who can fight. Jinki raised his head up and faced Kibum’s smug face.
Soon enough, Kibum raised his hands up to the sky, closes his eyes, reaching for the vague stars in the purple sky, and he let himself drop once again, leaning his back on the air, free falling, with his legs tightly hooked to the railings. Jinki’s heart jumps as he launches his arms to catch Kibum’s.
Kibum laughs and laughs and laughs upside down, his heart feeling really pleasured while Jinki was yelping, “What are you doing?!”
It takes Jinki an hour to realize that Kibum wasn’t really killing himself.
For now.
-
Kibum lights a cigarette while Jinki flicks on his fingernails, still mad. But he’s got nothing more to do. Plus, his voice keeps shaking when he looks at Kibum. Jinki doesn’t notice, but as soon as the cigarette smoke reaches his nose, he launches on Kibum’s face yet again, remembering the don’ts in the orientation.
“You know you’re not allowed to do that,” he almost whispers because his roommate will burst in laughter.
They were both seated in the middle of the magazine filled floor, silent. Even Kibum’s ankle bones were the most beautiful thing Jinki has ever seen. He could only stare at his own ankles and feel humiliated.
Kibum placed his hands on Jinki’s sides. “Look,” Kibum puffs a whole lot of suffocating cigarette smoke in his face and he coughs just a little bit. “If you’re going to live here, with me, you’ll have to do as much shit as I do,” he finished with another puff.
They were impossible near each other’s faces, breathing the same polluted air, lips only centimeters away. The proximity brought Jinki’s blood to rush up his cheeks and he could just feel his body tingle and shiver. He doesn’t say anything but stares at the other boy’s lips, moving.
“What are you so scared of?” he asks Jinki whose name was still anonymous to him.
It cheers him about just a little bit on how someone else was starting a conversation with him. Nonetheless, he knows he’ll end up breaking the talk.
Or actually answer the question that Kibum scared the heck out of him.
Fuck.
“I thought you were k-killing yourself before I even had the chance to meet you,” he shakes a little but sees the improvement and then he realizes how pathetic his answer was. Kibum giggles as he pushed his cigarette butt to extinguish the flicker. He exhales, exposing his distinct collar bones and god does it make Jinki’s eyes dilate in admiration.
“What’s your name?”
“Lee Jinki,” he makes it short but he secretly crossed his fingers in hopes Kibum won’t ever forget it.
Kibum purses his lips and examines the other boy, from his frizzy hair and coffee stained pheromones. “Kim Kibum,” he says but doesn’t offer a hand.
“I know.”
Kibum shoots at him and gives another hearty laugh.
“I guess I’ll have to show you around,” Kibum didn’t give him a second to clear his thoughts out as he wrapped his fingers on Jinki’s plump wrist. It never felt this cold before.
There were three rooms; the first being divided into two for the kitchen and the living room, the second being the bathroom and the last being the bedroom. There was one huge bed in the middle of the magazine flooded bedroom. Jinki knows it was impossible for Kibum to let him share. Was it?
It was really neat and tidy in spite of the messy magazines in the floor. Compared to his previous home, this was much more spacious. The walls were in earth colors; green, white and grey, and it gave out this comfy fresh feel in his heart. Kibum doesn’t let go of Jinki’s hand even if he was talking and orienting him about his contradicting rules.
“No, I won’t let you sleep in my bed. You sleep on the couch. It folds out to a bed so you’ll have to deal with that. Do you have a stable job? If yes, rent will be up on fifty percent for you. No, you don’t have to worry about it much. I, for one, take time on using the bathroom so if you’d want to take a shit and I’m using the bathroom, go outside and dig on soil. Now, this one’s important,” Kibum pauses to face him and changes his tone into a more serious one.
“You may never answer the phone in this house. Use it, go ahead but if it rings, I’ll be the only one to pick it up.”
It only takes him one go to obey rules but if he’d want to stay and spend more time with Kibum, he’d rather follow him than follow Sing-song. Besides, the world seems like it’s opening up for him.
“Do you understand what I’m saying here?”
Jinki nods, a little too fast making his head more confused than ever. “Yes. Yes, I do. Thank you. I-I mean, thank you a whole lot because I’ve been really wanting to find a place of my own and I’ve started saving a-and before you know it, I’ll be o-out of-” before he could even finish spitting his words out, he gets dragged out by Kibum to that tight spaced balcony.
He knew what was coming.
“If you want to stay here,” Kibum tells and pushes Jinki up the railings. “You better,” he pauses again, struggling to let Jinki hold still and not escape his grip.
“Be a little daring.”
Kibum pushes him to fall on his back and immediately holds Jinki’s legs still, hooking his feet around the steel bars. Kibum was going crazy laughing hysterically while Jinki broke the noise of the horns of the cars zooming all across Seoul. His legs were quivering really bad that they were turning numb and he could feel the rush of blood in his head as his vision was incredulously upside down and nauseating.
Fuck, he felt the rush of adrenaline and vomit.
“Fuck, Kim Kibum, please put me down, god damn it,” he fights but he’s torn if he’ll continue fighting because every time he moves, the lump in his throat kept going in his head. The October wind was as chilly as Kibum’s hands were. Maybe this is why he’s as cold as ice. For a second, everything felt time warped, like the world’s slowing down when you’re upside down and it made his heart wearily wrench, in a good way. He feels the cold wind blow on his sweat filled forehead and he enjoys it for a while. His head feels really heavy now and his vision started to blur. His hands were dangling in the air and when he touched his forehead, it was drenched in cold sweat. He closes his eyes, tight as he could letting the forming tears escape the corners of his eyes and he takes time to listen, listen to the zooming cars, the nightlife coming alive, the sound of silverware clashing against each other as dinner time begins. His heart raced, thinking of Kibum, who robbed him of sanity the first time they ever met, who w
as so pale and cold, he looked like he didn’t have anyone to accompany him since he was a kid. He feels that now, he can actually be what he wants to be which he had no idea what. He just wants to be happy inside. It felt kind of really good.
“Hey, are you okay, Jinki?” Kibum asks still hissing in laughter and still tightening his grip on Jinki’s stiff legs.
Maybe he was okay, now that Kibum remembers his name. Maybe he wasn’t when he starts throwing up, upside down, where the vomit stained his hair and blocked his eyes.
He was completely fine.
Kibum pulls Jinki up, farting in all kinds of squealing laughs and he just couldn’t hold back. Jinki’s face was soaked in cold sweat, running down his neck and back. He was shaking violently as he dropped down in the balcony’s white tiles. His head lolls back as he gasped for air to fill his lungs. That was the most surreal thing he has ever felt in his whole 20 years of existence.
He slowly opens his eyes while he takes in air inside his colorless lips and sees Kibum, silent and poised for the first time. He presses his chilling fingertips lightly on the hair strands that stick to Jinki’s sweaty forehead and brushes them off to his sides. Their eyes meet again, almonds piercing his own eyes, trying to define the loneliness and anger they seem to hide and then they laugh, laugh more than their stomachs can handle. Jinki just can’t get angry.
At him, really.
“I’ve never done this before,” Jinki clutches on his heart racing as fast as the cars 16 floors below.
“Me too,” Kibum replies.
Jinki stares not at his eyes, but on his collar bones that were impossible beautiful. “But you do it every time; hanging upside down and shit.”
“No, I meant laughing until you’re crying.”
Kibum really was.
His roommate then finishes, “I like you.”
-
When he wakes up the next day, Kibum wasn’t home. He wasn’t much of a heavy sleeper but judging through the adrenaline he’s received the previous night, he probably needed that night off. He takes a bath and changes into his working clothes. He takes his time to snoop around Kibum’s room, which was left almost untouched. He’s surely somewhere sleeping in a club or a friend’s home after a hangover. Who was he to care? He opens the refrigerator that looked like a noodle and egg factory. October this year’s a little colder than last year so he prepares himself noodles for breakfast and dines alone. He doesn’t watch television nor get himself involved in the news because it’s as ugly as his life already. He steps out the balcony and eats his ramen outside.
The day isn’t as exciting as the night.
Before heading out, he passes the telephone that he was forbidden to answer. No matter how it seemed peculiar, he dares not to disobey his roommate’s rules because he wants to stay. Stay for himself, not for Kibum because who was he? He’s just that suicidal kid who likes to mock weak hearted people.
He’s just his roommate.
For now.
-
Minho asks him how his first night went and Jinki replies with an alright even it if it was more than a great night. He returns home seeing Kibum, dangled upside down in the balcony with a cigarette stuck in the middle of his wonderful lips. This time, he didn’t rush to him because he knew Kibum wasn’t killing himself or something. He bought those cheap but delicious Korean barbeques from the stall in front of the café. Jinki just wants to say thanks.
“Where were you this morning?” Jinki asks as he prepared their dinner.
Kibum doesn’t reply.
Jinki pouts and mouths okay before saying dinner was ready. Kibum was in another loose beater and pajamas that pronounced his bones even more.
“You know, you look like you haven’t been fed for years.”
Jinki tries his best to start a conversation but he realizes that was the most awkward thing he has said in eternity’s span. What was he thinking? His heart sighs a breath of relief when Kibum finally smiles.
“So you really do work?” Kibum walks to the refrigerator and pulls out this alcoholic beverage he doesn’t even know how to pronounce the name.
“Yes. I’m a barista in this little café fifteen minutes from here. It’s not much but I can pay for rent,” he tries to give out a toothy grin but Kibum was glaring down at him with those beautiful pair of eyes and his heart seemed to tug out even more. He pours Jinki a glass of beer and asks him to drink up.
Be daring, he remembers. So without hesitating, he downs one glass forcing his face not to look too repulsed but it couldn’t be helped. It burned down his throat and he was getting nervous he might throw up again.
“You haven’t been laid, haven’t you?”
His cheeks flush red at the forwardness and no, he hasn’t been yet and it wasn’t just because he had principles of his own. He was just too timid.
“You have got to open up and set loose! I mean, I didn’t sweat like a pig when I first hung upside down and don’t try to fool me. I bet this is your first time drinking. You look way too abhorred.”
Kibum downs what must be his fifteenth shot and boy was his pale color now washed with red blood. Jinki could only stare as Kibum animatedly blabbed about how boring he was and how he’s not worthy to be his roommate.
“I bet you get drowned with people’s stories when you work with your coffee art and you wish you were grinding on someone else rather than grinding some coffee beans…” he continues spewing nonsense.
Jinki giggles a little bit because no matter how untouched and boring his life was, he has never thought of grinding something other than coffee beans. No matter how beautiful Kibum looked drunk, he knew there was something wrong.
“You know, you’re lucky,” he started anew and Jinki knows very well that he wasn’t joking.
“You get to have a job while I escape the night and enter clubs that I’m not even allowed in. You get to buy steak, barbeque and real food while I spend my time buying nicotine that burns my lungs. You get to have fears because you’re afraid of losing something while I’ve used myself to grow apart from these fears because I’m just so tired I want to lose myself. You probably have your family who loves their kid so much and is proud he’s doing something for a living. Fuck, someone has got to share my lost sanity!”
Jinki’s eyes grew wider because Kibum wanted to escape everything he wanted to have; life outside the stereotype. And it’s always unfair that what the other side of life isn’t as happy as he thinks it is. It’s just as miserable, miserable enough that you’ll die going back to what you’ve grown accustomed to. Kibum wasn’t pouring himself alcohol anymore. He was drinking from the bottle, trying to flood his problems away.
He just couldn’t say anything that could cheer him up because he was a sucker for those. It was great Kibum wasn’t crying, he was giggling and bubbling words that weren’t comprehendible.
“Ya wanna hang out on ‘e balcony?” Kibum whispers, drunk, on Jinki’s ear as his arms were held up on Jinki’s frail shoulders. The mix of cigarette smoke and fine alcohol lingered out his lips while it brushed on Jinki’s cheeks when he laughs. His cheeks flushed red while carrying Kibum down his bed after more than two hours bathing in alcohol.
“You’ll fall off.”
Jinki drops him with a soft thud while he alternates moans, laughs and wails. His white marble skin has changed into a soft shade of red and his neck was shining in sweat.
“I never fall off. As much as I want to, I never do.”
His heart throbbed while watching him fall asleep because he wanted an escape. There wasn’t an exit in his world and it hurt him a whole lot. Kibum’s heart is as beautiful as his eyes, his lips, his body, his whole self.
“You know,” Kibum turns to his side to face his floor to ceiling window, staring at the light tinted city.
“I really really like you. I really do. Really.”
When he finally wheezed to sleep, Jinki forced a smile and went to the balcony, where the night winds were at their coldest peak and the nightlife was starting to die off. It’s just all so unfair.
He pushes himself up to the railings and grips on them tight, letting his hands reek of metal scent. His heart pounded and it wasn’t fair that Kibum doesn’t feel a thing when adrenaline welcomes him. Jinki slowly backed up and started hooking his legs around the rusting bars. Can’t he just explode and run away? Of course not. Life doesn’t work that way. He feels the wind freezing the sweat in his forehead as he slowly, unknowingly, fall back, letting his body catch the wind, feeling the adrenaline in his deprived veins.
He wants to love.
He wants to love in this untimely night.
He just wants to love.
Because everything feels better upside down.
-
part two →
one-shot / onew x key / pg 16 / (5,037/11,401 words)
→ Every night Kibum was left alone, he hangs down the balcony railings, upside down, legs hooked in rusting bars, and breathes the cold air that prevails every time he breathes. They were just beautifully wasted, Jinki thinks.
Collar bones.
It’s those perfectly embossed bones carved in his impossibly beautiful pale neck. The way they don’t disappear tells him he hasn’t been too well, unfed and unknowingly lonely, since god knows when. Those bones glisten when sunshine hits them first thing in the morning. It’s those clavicles his lips like to taste every dark night, hands touching bare skin. It’s those clavicles his teeth gently gnaw when his head is spinning and his heart palpitates abnormally when proximity didn’t have a meaning and body heat was the only thing that mattered. Oh, how they’re further sharpened when he breathes, inhales and buries his problems inside him. It’s those clavicles that define Kim Kibum.
-
He was a wanderer of some sort and he likes to call him that, trying to work his way out of his own problems. He tried conquering the world by working at a small café in Apgujeong as a barista. What world was he conquering anyway? As confident as he was in being all that and being “all smarts”, he had no face, no dignity, no guts, nothing to show and return at his home in Gwangmyeong. Doing coffee art, attending to people and snooping around other people’s businesses was the new definition of “conquering” himself and apparently, it’s what he’s grown accustomed to besides being a complete klutz. He just wouldn’t admit that he’s been defeated after being ambitious enough to set out at a young age, 17, to be independent and live on his own. To him, home didn’t really feel like home.
“Hey, Lee Jinki!”
A hand wavers in front of his dazed eyes. He’s always been daydreaming and setting illusions for himself to get a personal and intentional headache. The bags under his eyes were as dragging as ever. It was always difficult to transfer from one home to another because one, he didn’t have a place to reside in and two, he didn’t have the money to get his own. He does have friends. At least, he thinks he does. He believes he does. If it wasn’t true, he would be penniless and freezing in the streets, homeless and lonely.
The hand in front of him finally stops and the owner shoots at him straight in the eye, “You told me you’re telling me something important?”
His heart flutters up and finally, he comes back to his senses. Jinki buries his hands on the pockets of his brown apron and leans his back on the glass covered sweets and cakes their store was known for. He was talking to a co-barista, a friend he considers, who was letting him stay in his crowded apartment along four others.
“Ah, yes, Minho. I found a place to stay on my own. It’s not that much but then I realized that I’ve been staying with you and the others for quite a while and…and…thank you for taking me in. You know, for taking me in even if there were other four sharing one room and for letting me not pay part of the rent. I- I will pay you, I swear. I hope I wasn’t much of a burden,” he finishes it off as quickly as he could because he knows he’ll end up stuttering.
Minho, who was wearing the same black get-up and brown apron, was all smiles listening to him give his words of gratitude. It’s been two months since he’s been residing with Minho and it’s about time considerations were to end. Jinki bows in the middle of the now crowded café to give his thanks. Minho, on the other hand, grabs him by the hand and pulls him for a tight embrace. Minho was the only one who kept up with his ambitions and fuck ups. They exchanged strong bro-pats in the back while Minho whispered, “You’re always welcome to come back.”
It was nothing much. It was two weeks ago when Jinki was cleaning up some coffee tables before finishing his shift. The café was never empty but every 9 o’clock, only a spoonful of people were up for coffee. Before returning the newspapers in their respective racks, the classified ads were separated from the bundle. Jinki looked from behind and saw Minho attending to customers. “I should go,” he whispers to himself. And for once, he’s really sure about this.
That one ad was really plain looking but offered more than he’d want. An apartment in downtown Apgujeong which was fifteen minutes far from the café he was working in. If he’d ride his bicycle, it would take ten minutes. Though, there was an occupant already. It didn’t matter. Jinki’s survived with four others. How hard can it get, anyway? He hopes to get along with the occupant even if there wasn’t any chance.
Anyone can hope.
He dials the number in the ad and nervously taps on the table top. It takes three rings before a very gentle lady voice answers the call. It was a very sing song tone letting him take time to reply. He stutters, of course. “Y-yes, I’m interested in getting the room in today’s ads.”
Jinki was always the shy boy who’d rather hide in his room rather than socializing with fancy people. The fanciness scares him. He has issues of his own. The lady on the other line sounded really ecstatic as if the ad existed for a very long time and someone considerate is finally taking the spot. The call finishes with a concrete deal and he was more than happy to even get his life progressing.
Jinki asked his boss if he could leave an hour earlier to get his things back at Minho’s house before heading on to his new home. He gets an approval and before he knew it, he was bidding farewell to the four other bed spacers he’s grown up with for the past two months. It was never close to being easy being crammed up that little four cornered room. It stank of man-scent, mixed perfume, piss, raging pheromones, sweat and rotting food. If there was anything that wasn’t repelling, that would be the bond they shared every time all of them were home.
“Don’t forget about us,” the youngest of the four named Taemin says like it was even possible for Jinki to even do.
Jinki smiles to himself and drags his duffel out of his two month home.
“Don’t forget about me.”
-
The sky was painted hot orange and purple as the sun dropped down Apgujeong’s horizon, fading as the sun pulled the moon out to light the black sky. It wasn’t at all hard for him to hail a taxi. The lights were starting to come alive and the streets that were so familiar to him will soon become that stranger if he survives living somewhere else. He was so used to this anyway. He closes his eyes and thinks mostly about what the scent of his new home will be or how kind the occupant is or how beautiful the lady from across the line really was. And then, he was dreaming.
Soon enough, the cab driver was poking him on his side which caused Jinki to hit the driver on the face with his large palms. His cheeks flushed red as he asked, begged even, for forgiveness. Who would poke at someone’s sides anyway?
It was a tall building with walls stained with those black drippings the rain would leave. The smell of noodles and barbeque from the kiosks across the building wafted the air and he hears his empty stomach fumble a little. It looked so similar to all the middle-class apartments across Seoul; tall and aging. The wind blew on his hair, tickling his neck and ears for a bit, and it was so cold that he sensed the night creeping up.
A lady at her 40’s walked down the building steps with her hundred-watt grin and open arms.
“You must be Lee Jinki!”
And she must be the lady he spoke too. Sing song, yes. Beautiful? Not as much. She reeked of grandma perfume and those fragrant oils that never really were fragrant.
Funny how his mind speaks more than his mouth does. Hah.
She oriented him on the dos and don’ts of the apartment: no drugs, no sluts, no smoking in air conditioned spots and definitely not being a klutz. It seemed like the apartment forbade him to enter.
“The occupant’s name is Kim Kibum, just about your age maybe. I don’t quite know if he’s around right now but here’re the keys. Thank you again, Jinki-ah. The ad’s been up on the papers for quite a long time now,” Sing-song says. Now, he’ll call her Sing-song.
Kim Kibum, huh? His heart pounded as much as the elevator shook as they were flying up the 16th floor. Judging from the “he’s not around” phrase means he’s probably that fancy socialite he’s been totally afraid of. Totally. Maybe it wasn’t too late to go back to Minho’s, where it reeked of man-sweat and piss. He was always welcome to come back, right?
His palms were spewing sweat that it wasn’t even funny. The keys were slipping and leaving that blood-metal scented smell that made him feel nauseated. His forehead was starting to sweat as well. “Come on. Come on,” he encouragingly whispers to himself multiple times until he reached door number 166. He double-checked his keys that had a keychain labeled 166. Jinki pressed his ears on the wooden door, unique and more intricate than the other doors. He was hoping as much that this Kim Kibum wasn’t home, at all. He listens for one whole minute and hears nothing but the sound of the neighboring kids’ laughter. He knocks, and asks classily if anyone was home. No reply. Jinki breathes his last before inserting the key on the door lock, entering his new home. At least, if you can call it home.
Pleasant, really.
Only if there weren’t magazine splattered across the floor.
And there weren’t boys, hanging upside down on the balcony railings, trying to end lives.
It takes him a millisecond to paint his eyes shocked.
“Shit, don’t!” he cursed under his breath as soon as he stepped foot on the magazine laden floor.
His shoes struggled as much as if the magazines were some kind of sinking pit that’ll drag your soul inside the fashion advertisements that bathed on the pages. If this was the Kim Kibum Sing-song was talking about, then he was a big suicidal lunatic hanging upside down on his thin legs on the balcony railings trying to end his life. Jinki slips on what he thinks were Nylon magazines but he tries his best to stand on both legs just to save his now new roommate. Jinki pulls his roommate by his legs, then grabs the hem of his very loose beater and holds one of Kibum’s arms.
“What are you doing?!” Jinki screams at the top of his lungs while he locked eyes with a thin pale boy whose face looks like it has been drained from sadness and food. He was beautiful. His dark almond eyes spoke of words Jinki couldn’t comprehend to but it brought shivers down his spine but as he held on to his arms, the coldness of his skin was nothing compared to the coldness of his heart when he left his home. It was silent for a while, because when Jinki tried to speak, the lump in his throat was very much choking him up. He realizes that his grip was tighter every second and for Kibum, it didn’t really hurt. Unknowingly, Jinki’s eyes were welling as his stomach leaned against the rusting railings, head facing the far drop from the 16th floor and eyes glued to this beautiful kid he was trying to save. He feels the vomit lurching forward.
Finally, Kibum lifts himself up, hands pulling Jinki’s own and before he knew it, Kibum was steady on the railings swinging his feet and hands gripping on the rusting steel. He removes Jinki’s palms from his arms and wipes the sweat off his thin ones. The looseness of his beater exposed much of his milky white skin and embossed bones that were impossibly visible. Kibum’s hair was like of auburn wood and fire and god, his lips were perfectly carved as well as his jaw line.
“What were you doing?” Jinki repeats as his eyes welled up even more, blurring the face of Kibum. Kibum’s lips curled to the side, animating a small smile.
“Not killing myself.”
He says it with much arrogance and mockery but all Jinki could do was let out a sigh of relief.
Jinki’s legs were shaking more than they were when he was on the elevator. He had his fists balled to his sides and his head bowed down like he was someone who was robbed of his lunch money. The neckline of his beater was just so low the whiteness that his chest illuminated was alluring. He wipes the corner of his eyes hoping that Kibum doesn’t notice.
“Hey,” Kibum calls out and pokes Jinki’s stomach with his worn out boots.
“Hey,” Kibum repeats after he wasn’t given a reply. “Hey, kid. Look at me.”
He didn’t know what to feel but the anger inside him was eating him up that he wanted to punch Kibum in the face after the ‘kid’ remark when he’s obviously older than this boy. But he wasn’t the one who can fight. Jinki raised his head up and faced Kibum’s smug face.
Soon enough, Kibum raised his hands up to the sky, closes his eyes, reaching for the vague stars in the purple sky, and he let himself drop once again, leaning his back on the air, free falling, with his legs tightly hooked to the railings. Jinki’s heart jumps as he launches his arms to catch Kibum’s.
Kibum laughs and laughs and laughs upside down, his heart feeling really pleasured while Jinki was yelping, “What are you doing?!”
It takes Jinki an hour to realize that Kibum wasn’t really killing himself.
For now.
-
Kibum lights a cigarette while Jinki flicks on his fingernails, still mad. But he’s got nothing more to do. Plus, his voice keeps shaking when he looks at Kibum. Jinki doesn’t notice, but as soon as the cigarette smoke reaches his nose, he launches on Kibum’s face yet again, remembering the don’ts in the orientation.
“You know you’re not allowed to do that,” he almost whispers because his roommate will burst in laughter.
They were both seated in the middle of the magazine filled floor, silent. Even Kibum’s ankle bones were the most beautiful thing Jinki has ever seen. He could only stare at his own ankles and feel humiliated.
Kibum placed his hands on Jinki’s sides. “Look,” Kibum puffs a whole lot of suffocating cigarette smoke in his face and he coughs just a little bit. “If you’re going to live here, with me, you’ll have to do as much shit as I do,” he finished with another puff.
They were impossible near each other’s faces, breathing the same polluted air, lips only centimeters away. The proximity brought Jinki’s blood to rush up his cheeks and he could just feel his body tingle and shiver. He doesn’t say anything but stares at the other boy’s lips, moving.
“What are you so scared of?” he asks Jinki whose name was still anonymous to him.
It cheers him about just a little bit on how someone else was starting a conversation with him. Nonetheless, he knows he’ll end up breaking the talk.
Or actually answer the question that Kibum scared the heck out of him.
Fuck.
“I thought you were k-killing yourself before I even had the chance to meet you,” he shakes a little but sees the improvement and then he realizes how pathetic his answer was. Kibum giggles as he pushed his cigarette butt to extinguish the flicker. He exhales, exposing his distinct collar bones and god does it make Jinki’s eyes dilate in admiration.
“What’s your name?”
“Lee Jinki,” he makes it short but he secretly crossed his fingers in hopes Kibum won’t ever forget it.
Kibum purses his lips and examines the other boy, from his frizzy hair and coffee stained pheromones. “Kim Kibum,” he says but doesn’t offer a hand.
“I know.”
Kibum shoots at him and gives another hearty laugh.
“I guess I’ll have to show you around,” Kibum didn’t give him a second to clear his thoughts out as he wrapped his fingers on Jinki’s plump wrist. It never felt this cold before.
There were three rooms; the first being divided into two for the kitchen and the living room, the second being the bathroom and the last being the bedroom. There was one huge bed in the middle of the magazine flooded bedroom. Jinki knows it was impossible for Kibum to let him share. Was it?
It was really neat and tidy in spite of the messy magazines in the floor. Compared to his previous home, this was much more spacious. The walls were in earth colors; green, white and grey, and it gave out this comfy fresh feel in his heart. Kibum doesn’t let go of Jinki’s hand even if he was talking and orienting him about his contradicting rules.
“No, I won’t let you sleep in my bed. You sleep on the couch. It folds out to a bed so you’ll have to deal with that. Do you have a stable job? If yes, rent will be up on fifty percent for you. No, you don’t have to worry about it much. I, for one, take time on using the bathroom so if you’d want to take a shit and I’m using the bathroom, go outside and dig on soil. Now, this one’s important,” Kibum pauses to face him and changes his tone into a more serious one.
“You may never answer the phone in this house. Use it, go ahead but if it rings, I’ll be the only one to pick it up.”
It only takes him one go to obey rules but if he’d want to stay and spend more time with Kibum, he’d rather follow him than follow Sing-song. Besides, the world seems like it’s opening up for him.
“Do you understand what I’m saying here?”
Jinki nods, a little too fast making his head more confused than ever. “Yes. Yes, I do. Thank you. I-I mean, thank you a whole lot because I’ve been really wanting to find a place of my own and I’ve started saving a-and before you know it, I’ll be o-out of-” before he could even finish spitting his words out, he gets dragged out by Kibum to that tight spaced balcony.
He knew what was coming.
“If you want to stay here,” Kibum tells and pushes Jinki up the railings. “You better,” he pauses again, struggling to let Jinki hold still and not escape his grip.
“Be a little daring.”
Kibum pushes him to fall on his back and immediately holds Jinki’s legs still, hooking his feet around the steel bars. Kibum was going crazy laughing hysterically while Jinki broke the noise of the horns of the cars zooming all across Seoul. His legs were quivering really bad that they were turning numb and he could feel the rush of blood in his head as his vision was incredulously upside down and nauseating.
Fuck, he felt the rush of adrenaline and vomit.
“Fuck, Kim Kibum, please put me down, god damn it,” he fights but he’s torn if he’ll continue fighting because every time he moves, the lump in his throat kept going in his head. The October wind was as chilly as Kibum’s hands were. Maybe this is why he’s as cold as ice. For a second, everything felt time warped, like the world’s slowing down when you’re upside down and it made his heart wearily wrench, in a good way. He feels the cold wind blow on his sweat filled forehead and he enjoys it for a while. His head feels really heavy now and his vision started to blur. His hands were dangling in the air and when he touched his forehead, it was drenched in cold sweat. He closes his eyes, tight as he could letting the forming tears escape the corners of his eyes and he takes time to listen, listen to the zooming cars, the nightlife coming alive, the sound of silverware clashing against each other as dinner time begins. His heart raced, thinking of Kibum, who robbed him of sanity the first time they ever met, who w
as so pale and cold, he looked like he didn’t have anyone to accompany him since he was a kid. He feels that now, he can actually be what he wants to be which he had no idea what. He just wants to be happy inside. It felt kind of really good.
“Hey, are you okay, Jinki?” Kibum asks still hissing in laughter and still tightening his grip on Jinki’s stiff legs.
Maybe he was okay, now that Kibum remembers his name. Maybe he wasn’t when he starts throwing up, upside down, where the vomit stained his hair and blocked his eyes.
He was completely fine.
Kibum pulls Jinki up, farting in all kinds of squealing laughs and he just couldn’t hold back. Jinki’s face was soaked in cold sweat, running down his neck and back. He was shaking violently as he dropped down in the balcony’s white tiles. His head lolls back as he gasped for air to fill his lungs. That was the most surreal thing he has ever felt in his whole 20 years of existence.
He slowly opens his eyes while he takes in air inside his colorless lips and sees Kibum, silent and poised for the first time. He presses his chilling fingertips lightly on the hair strands that stick to Jinki’s sweaty forehead and brushes them off to his sides. Their eyes meet again, almonds piercing his own eyes, trying to define the loneliness and anger they seem to hide and then they laugh, laugh more than their stomachs can handle. Jinki just can’t get angry.
At him, really.
“I’ve never done this before,” Jinki clutches on his heart racing as fast as the cars 16 floors below.
“Me too,” Kibum replies.
Jinki stares not at his eyes, but on his collar bones that were impossible beautiful. “But you do it every time; hanging upside down and shit.”
“No, I meant laughing until you’re crying.”
Kibum really was.
His roommate then finishes, “I like you.”
-
When he wakes up the next day, Kibum wasn’t home. He wasn’t much of a heavy sleeper but judging through the adrenaline he’s received the previous night, he probably needed that night off. He takes a bath and changes into his working clothes. He takes his time to snoop around Kibum’s room, which was left almost untouched. He’s surely somewhere sleeping in a club or a friend’s home after a hangover. Who was he to care? He opens the refrigerator that looked like a noodle and egg factory. October this year’s a little colder than last year so he prepares himself noodles for breakfast and dines alone. He doesn’t watch television nor get himself involved in the news because it’s as ugly as his life already. He steps out the balcony and eats his ramen outside.
The day isn’t as exciting as the night.
Before heading out, he passes the telephone that he was forbidden to answer. No matter how it seemed peculiar, he dares not to disobey his roommate’s rules because he wants to stay. Stay for himself, not for Kibum because who was he? He’s just that suicidal kid who likes to mock weak hearted people.
He’s just his roommate.
For now.
-
Minho asks him how his first night went and Jinki replies with an alright even it if it was more than a great night. He returns home seeing Kibum, dangled upside down in the balcony with a cigarette stuck in the middle of his wonderful lips. This time, he didn’t rush to him because he knew Kibum wasn’t killing himself or something. He bought those cheap but delicious Korean barbeques from the stall in front of the café. Jinki just wants to say thanks.
“Where were you this morning?” Jinki asks as he prepared their dinner.
Kibum doesn’t reply.
Jinki pouts and mouths okay before saying dinner was ready. Kibum was in another loose beater and pajamas that pronounced his bones even more.
“You know, you look like you haven’t been fed for years.”
Jinki tries his best to start a conversation but he realizes that was the most awkward thing he has said in eternity’s span. What was he thinking? His heart sighs a breath of relief when Kibum finally smiles.
“So you really do work?” Kibum walks to the refrigerator and pulls out this alcoholic beverage he doesn’t even know how to pronounce the name.
“Yes. I’m a barista in this little café fifteen minutes from here. It’s not much but I can pay for rent,” he tries to give out a toothy grin but Kibum was glaring down at him with those beautiful pair of eyes and his heart seemed to tug out even more. He pours Jinki a glass of beer and asks him to drink up.
Be daring, he remembers. So without hesitating, he downs one glass forcing his face not to look too repulsed but it couldn’t be helped. It burned down his throat and he was getting nervous he might throw up again.
“You haven’t been laid, haven’t you?”
His cheeks flush red at the forwardness and no, he hasn’t been yet and it wasn’t just because he had principles of his own. He was just too timid.
“You have got to open up and set loose! I mean, I didn’t sweat like a pig when I first hung upside down and don’t try to fool me. I bet this is your first time drinking. You look way too abhorred.”
Kibum downs what must be his fifteenth shot and boy was his pale color now washed with red blood. Jinki could only stare as Kibum animatedly blabbed about how boring he was and how he’s not worthy to be his roommate.
“I bet you get drowned with people’s stories when you work with your coffee art and you wish you were grinding on someone else rather than grinding some coffee beans…” he continues spewing nonsense.
Jinki giggles a little bit because no matter how untouched and boring his life was, he has never thought of grinding something other than coffee beans. No matter how beautiful Kibum looked drunk, he knew there was something wrong.
“You know, you’re lucky,” he started anew and Jinki knows very well that he wasn’t joking.
“You get to have a job while I escape the night and enter clubs that I’m not even allowed in. You get to buy steak, barbeque and real food while I spend my time buying nicotine that burns my lungs. You get to have fears because you’re afraid of losing something while I’ve used myself to grow apart from these fears because I’m just so tired I want to lose myself. You probably have your family who loves their kid so much and is proud he’s doing something for a living. Fuck, someone has got to share my lost sanity!”
Jinki’s eyes grew wider because Kibum wanted to escape everything he wanted to have; life outside the stereotype. And it’s always unfair that what the other side of life isn’t as happy as he thinks it is. It’s just as miserable, miserable enough that you’ll die going back to what you’ve grown accustomed to. Kibum wasn’t pouring himself alcohol anymore. He was drinking from the bottle, trying to flood his problems away.
He just couldn’t say anything that could cheer him up because he was a sucker for those. It was great Kibum wasn’t crying, he was giggling and bubbling words that weren’t comprehendible.
“Ya wanna hang out on ‘e balcony?” Kibum whispers, drunk, on Jinki’s ear as his arms were held up on Jinki’s frail shoulders. The mix of cigarette smoke and fine alcohol lingered out his lips while it brushed on Jinki’s cheeks when he laughs. His cheeks flushed red while carrying Kibum down his bed after more than two hours bathing in alcohol.
“You’ll fall off.”
Jinki drops him with a soft thud while he alternates moans, laughs and wails. His white marble skin has changed into a soft shade of red and his neck was shining in sweat.
“I never fall off. As much as I want to, I never do.”
His heart throbbed while watching him fall asleep because he wanted an escape. There wasn’t an exit in his world and it hurt him a whole lot. Kibum’s heart is as beautiful as his eyes, his lips, his body, his whole self.
“You know,” Kibum turns to his side to face his floor to ceiling window, staring at the light tinted city.
“I really really like you. I really do. Really.”
When he finally wheezed to sleep, Jinki forced a smile and went to the balcony, where the night winds were at their coldest peak and the nightlife was starting to die off. It’s just all so unfair.
He pushes himself up to the railings and grips on them tight, letting his hands reek of metal scent. His heart pounded and it wasn’t fair that Kibum doesn’t feel a thing when adrenaline welcomes him. Jinki slowly backed up and started hooking his legs around the rusting bars. Can’t he just explode and run away? Of course not. Life doesn’t work that way. He feels the wind freezing the sweat in his forehead as he slowly, unknowingly, fall back, letting his body catch the wind, feeling the adrenaline in his deprived veins.
He wants to love.
He wants to love in this untimely night.
He just wants to love.
Because everything feels better upside down.
-
part two →