upside down. (part two) ; onew x key ; pg-16
"upside down (part two).
one-shot / onew x key / romance; angst; slice of life / pg 16 / (6,364/11,401 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.
He was awoken by someone letting out ghastly sounds of throwing up. Jinki forces his eyes open and sees the light coming from the bathroom. It was in those times Kibum was dangerously vulnerable. Jinki groggily sets his feet on the freezing wooden floor and unconsciously slips on whatever magazine was left on the floor. He hears a faint groan before peeking in the vomit-reeking bathroom. There he was, laden in the cold bathroom floor with his arms slung around the toilet seat. His body was shining in sweat and you can clearly see he was tired of ridding all the things his body rejected.
What his eyes saw in Kibum’s was drowned bloodshot ones. His lips, his beautiful lips that spoke of words that pass through his heart, were stained in an abhorrent green unknown matter and he just launches on his face like he did on day one of their meeting. When they lock on each other’s eyes, his just looked like they were pleading for something he couldn’t figure. Was it companionship? Perhaps he just wants me out.
Jinki rolls out a thick bundle of tissue paper, dampens it with warm water, and wipes Kibum’s dirty lips. The way he doesn’t reject him makes Jinki wonder that he wanted company. They just sit there, in front of each other while Jinki cleans him up like a mother nursing her child. His skin was burning and his lips quivered from time to time. The silence between them just amplifies the beats of Kibum’s heart. He realizes that in this coldest hour of the dark morning, he was still clad in his low neck beater and thin pajamas. His pale skin was blushed in warm pink signaling a slight fever and his bones protruded every second he breathed making Jinki reel out just a little bit. He prepares a basin and makes him brush his teeth sitting down because the way alcohol works through the night is a living hell, punching needles through your temples and all that unthinkable details. When he finishes cleaning him up, Jinki wraps his palms on his tiny wrists and lift him up, which surprises him because this was the first time he’s taking such initiative. If it can, you can just hear the faint sizzle as Jinki’s freezing palms held on to his burning skin.
“I want to stay here,” his voice croaks as he hesitates on getting up and the pain was equally audible. Kibum’s eyes shut tight but he never forgets to smile faintly just to reassure Jinki he was alright. Even if he wasn’t.
“I’m getting you something warm. Or something.”
Kibum almost slaps Jinki’s arm when he grabs hold of them, as tight as never letting go. There was a widespread of electric current travelling through his heart and it felt really good that Jinki smiled a little. Kibum just whispers, “I like the cold.”
And it figures.
“Are you al-alright now?”Jinki pauses just when Kibum brushes his fingers across the bottom of Jinki’s eyes to dust off the little morning glories that picked up through the night.
“Thanks to you,” he smiles a bright one and it warms Jinki’s heart.
And they talk about the little things that didn’t matter much. They never talk about themselves though because it’s much more interesting digging on others lives. Like how Kibum has a friend that sleeps in the subway because he doesn’t want anything more than to sleep there. And they laugh over Jinki’s gags that weren’t even close to humorous. The embarrassment was just funny. They were pulling their hearts together, laughing at the most pathetic details the world has created. They live in their own world now.
“I’ve never thought about grinding something else than coffee beans, ever,” Jinki giggles in a very much comfortable way after a long time.
Kibum fights, “I said that? Really though, get laid. Or at least do something outrageous.”
He just has no idea how much outrageous doings he has been into in the days they were together.
“Believe it or not, I can hang upside d-down al-” Jinki’s voice trails away.
The ringing of the telephone echoed across their little apartment.
The change in both of their expressions was just impossible to capture. Kibum’s eyes ruptured in some kind of way Jinki was suddenly afraid of. But he just smiles.
“You mean on the balcony railings?” Kibum’s voice quivers when he changes the mood as the telephone rings on further.
Jinki shrugs as it rung repeatedly, like the other person on the line just never gave up. And he figures it was really something important. Though, he was forbidden to even touch that telephone.
“I should answer that,” Jinki volunteers but his legs just don’t move forward because Kibum was in a daze, a very frightful daze.
Finally, it stops, both of them giving off a silent sigh.
“Why don’t you just cut the lines?” There was no point of not asking anyway. It was very reasonable.
Fortunately, his lips curled and he just says, “As much as I don’t want to, I need to be involved.”
Jinki sits down again in front of him, unable to erase the awkwardness that started to build up. He doesn’t think about the café even if he needed to be there working a few hours from now. It was impossible to ignore this beautiful boy with words that only came out of his mouth in the most important times. He could’ve sworn to himself that he saw Kibum’s eyes moisten a little but he resists asking why he’s bothered. Again, the air is wafted with only the invisible barrier Jinki automatically sets in every social interaction.
Jinki tries to smile, hoping that one of his smiles can speak of words his heart can’t even deliver through his veins, through his lips. The bathroom that had iced floors started closing up on them, or was it Kibum leaning forward placing his intricately carved figures centimeters far from his. His smile changes into a more anxious one, and he slowly ends up shutting his lips tight as to being afraid. But he wasn’t afraid. Jinki backs up as far as his body has press against the white tiles of the bathroom walls and he just couldn’t back up anymore. He smells the mix of toothpaste and the smallest hint of alcohol lingering out of his teeth, sliding through his barely chapped lips. Jinki felt Kibum’s legs slither on his sides until he rests his body on his lap. Kibum’s eyes darted down Jinki’s lips as he closed their proximity but he stops.
Stops, and smiles.
Jinki remained pressed against the white walls trying to back away, trying to breathe the cool air away from the peppermint smelling one. Kibum’s body was hot against his skin and it wasn’t helping his racing heart that much. Kibum’s head was tilted, positioned, and poised to devour Jinki with kisses that would make his soul explode with delight and much more confusion. But he stopped. The littlest movement can have their lips touching, tongues swiveling, body heat undefined.
But he almost hears Kibum smile and chuckle under his skin.
Finally, Kibum spoke, not bothering to move an inch away from him. “You think you’ve learned how to rid of your fear of adrenaline, but fear isn’t rid of without being able to accept that ridding fear is something that’s inevitable. Fear is impossibly, and abhorrently, permanent. Sorry.”
Jinki looked almost cross-eyed trying to read both of Kibum’s eyes who were so near his, but he reads them now, as if they were the door to his locked heart, as if they were so transparent. Kibum was all sorts of afraid. Kibum was all sorts of hiding his fears, not freeing them. Perhaps, their hearts were closer after all.
Jinki closes his eyes and waits for Kibum to press his iced lips on his and let him just forget the night, and forget the café, and forget sanity. His lips almost part as he readies himself for something much more adrenaline rising. But the smell of peppermint fades. He opens his eyes and sees Kibum away from him again and ready to stand up. He looked aggravated or maybe even mad. His skin that resembled the snow that might come soon was all he could look at.
Kibum looks at the mirror but rests his eyes on Jinki’s reflection and then, they look at each other. Kibum scrambles his emotions and he rolls his eyes intently with the littlest smirk before stepping out.
“The brave running from the coward,” Kibum fails to hide this one thought and he wishes he hasn’t whispered it aloud.
He walks away with dark almond eyes pleading to forget the night. Jinki stares into nothing until he falls asleep dreaming of porcelain skin and chapped lips.
-
They don’t see each other in four days and six hours. Before he knew it, he’s more than worried; worried, not only because his heart was starting to ache in the most absurd way, but because the telephone rang. It rang with the highest of pitches every night and it seemed to yell at him to pick it up. No, he won’t because he would want nothing more but to stay even if it meant long days without Kibum. It happened every midnight, waking him up feeling groggy as ever and he can’t just ignore it. The ringing was as demanding as it never stops. The stranger from the other line surely needs Kibum and this is practically why it haunts back every 1 a.m. Every time it rings a million times and stops, it returns back after a couple of minutes. And then, it gives up for the night.
Every night he was left alone, he hangs down the balcony railings and breathes the cold air that prevails every time he breathes. He doesn’t sweat anymore, his heart doesn’t race anymore, he doesn’t feel anything anymore. Perhaps, he just wants Kibum to at least hang upside down with him, where they can forget all that is in this stereotypical world and live on their own universe.
He remembers at the back of his head, like Kibum’s nagging voice, someone needed to get involved.
On the fifth night, the phone doesn’t ring. The wave of relief showers done his body but the feeling of aloneness devours him. Jinki sets out early (exceptionally early because he got a long scolding from his boss when he went late for work after Kibum’s intoxication night) and heads out the quiet streets to greet the dawn. As he passes the untouched magazines on the floor and holds on to the doorknob, the phone rings.
He almost leaps and he prays only a little that he should’ve turned the knob earlier and went out a little faster. He stares at it, like it was the ticking time bomb of his life. His involvement would mean eternal relief or maybe even a painful path. He tells himself ‘don’t get involved’ a couple of times under his breath until he hitches out curse words when his feet drag him toward the ringing telephone. It will soon be over anyway.
The ringing will soon be over anyway, when his fingers clasp the body of the telephone, and hold it on his ear, hearing the sound of the relentless and desperate caller.
“H-hello?”
He realizes it’s been quite a while since he last stuttered and shook violently. His palms sweat like the phone was about to slip away his fingers. It was déjà vu; back to that wretched day he first transferred. The lump in his throat froze even his whole body. It was a lady on the other line. Her voice was pleasant, but more likely shaky and scared.
“Kibum?” she pipes in a hoarse start.
“Ah, t-this is not-,” he halts to a stop and hears another bomb detonate a few feet away from him. There were audible footsteps and the doorknob was shaking, he could almost hear the other spare keys dangling while the person across the wooden door unlocks it, letting the doorknob turn. He’s all sorts of dead right now.
It was him, who’s forbade him to set a finger on the god damn telephone. It was him who needed to get involved.
The lady from the other line continued to talk as the two little boys meet eyes. Jinki’s heart stopped as he watched Kibum frozen, and practically killing him with every knife that shoot out his eyes. Before Kibum can actually yank the telephone away from Jinki, he hears the final words from the lady that were concealed with weeps.
“Your grandma…”
It was enough to understand every single matter Kibum hid under his eyes, under his skin, under his bones that conceal his dark heart that yearned for comfort. Kibum pushed him away, enough for his back to hit the cold floor and him to groan in pain. In those days of absence, he reeked of alcohol, cigarette smoke and Korean barbeque which he probably fished out on one of his nights. He was covered in warm clothes, thankfully but his wrists were paper thin.
After a very silent exchange of words between Kibum and the lady on the other line, he hung the line and pulled the connection, with a yank that was covered in frustration. He remembers asking him why he didn’t pull the line out. Perhaps this time, he’s had enough involvement. Jinki stands up and tries to explain but instead, Kibum stabbed him with silence that was enough to let Jinki crumble and rot on the floor. The whiteness of his skin grew even whiter that his lips were drained in color. The redness that circled around his eyes was all signs of vulnerability. And for once, he looked really human. Kibum walks to Jinki but he backs away, like he did when they were inches apart. He backs out of the door just when Kibum stops.
“It wouldn’t stop. I wanted to get involved to help,” Jinki’s voice shakes.
But Kibum smiles the most painful smile that has ever grazed his perfectly carved face. Kibum clenched his fists and fought the welling in his eyes with a smile that slowly turned into quivering lips that spoke of devastation.
“I’m sor-” Jinki tries to reach out but the Kibum pushes the wall in between them again.
And it ends with a bang.
-
He goes to work, arriving late again, but the voice of his boss was of comfort and concern. The emptiness written on his eyes has influenced the bitterness of the coffee he served. Minho approaches him but Jinki shakes his head. He can’t go back to his shared apartment nor does he want to reside with Minho again. With all the failures and klutziness he’s ever been involved in, this was the most despicable one. He gets sent off for the day by his boss, telling him to put himself together but it was near impossible at the moment.
Great.
He’d have no choice to go back.
“I’d get my things, search for a new apartment and probably stay at Minho’s for, at most, a week. I won’t be long. And then, I’d just forget everything. Forget this and be that fearful and boring stereotype,” he repeats to himself devising a plan that would hurt no one but him. Kibum will probably be out, or something else, he hopes. But the sweat in his palms continued to spill out even if the cold wind was blowing hard. He tries to walk as slowly as he can, catching time but his thoughts take the best of him and the noise inside him was more than deafening. His grandma, Jinki’s thoughts pan. He never mentioned family nor did he want it to be mentioned. For his two month total stay, Jinki was his family. Or at least he thinks he was to him. Nevertheless, Kibum was Jinki’s family.
And he wanted to go home.
His feet drag him quick making him run with fists balled with emotions that were raging up and down and up and down. If it was easy the first time, then it must be much easier the second. He just wished that Kibum was there.
Not killing himself.
A smile is drawn across his face and his hopes rose up enough to send his heart leaping in fireworks. Whatever he has under his shirt, whatever he hid under his eyes, whatever there was inside his bone-ridden heart was something dragging; like Sing-song’s voice in the middle of a frustrating life or like new stories that are overheard in the coffee reeked shop,
Jinki just wanted Kibum.
Jinki stops over at the barbeque kiosk in front of their apartment and bought a feast that they could hopefully share with drinks and stories that would flood or hearts, draining all the wariness. The smile in his face never went off and the joy that hid behind his eyes was almost visible. The food was warm and if it was anything else, he just wants to be happy.
The moment he’s in front of their door, his heart raced a million miles faster but he held it back, holding on to the plastic of food in his hands. He presses his ears at the door, just as he did, but he hears nothing.
“Please don’t be away,” he whispers to himself as he punctured his keys on the knob. It snapped open but the door chain was secured.
It never was secured. Kibum didn’t want him in. A pang of fright and sadness filled his heart. He peers inside the tiny gap the door left for him. He sees half of the balcony and the untouched Nylon magazine on the floor. Jinki almost leaps when he saw Kibum hung upside down on the railings yet again with a train of smoke heading up north. He was smoking.
Jinki hated him smoking.
“I brought food for you,” Jinki hopes for the best, Kibum forgetting what has happened the morning. Maybe he was that kind of person. Or maybe he wasn’t.
No reply.
“It’s those barbeques from downstairs,” he makes an effort and he promised himself to not give up.
Jinki could almost feel his soul crumble down with every second of silence that crushed his ears. The heat rising up in his head made him throw a fist on the door different from all the other doors and even kick it, trying to at least destroy the chain that separates them. The barbeques fall down the floor as Jinki uses his whole arm to push through the door. His vision blurred while his eyes welled in what he thought was tears. No. They weren’t tears.
He will continue to deny himself. That was Jinki.
“Please,” his voice shakes and whispers halfway through because he was gasping for air, giving blows by blows.
Jinki hears something drop from the inside, stopping him from banging through the strong wood. He peered through the gap again and saw Kibum still on his same position, intoxicating himself with smoke and nicotine.
“Hey, kid.”
Kibum breaks all walls of silence and speaks out, speaks those first words when they met which angered him so much because he wasn’t the kid. Jinki wipes all sweat, tears or was that snot just above his lips. The train of smoke stops and the hem of his shirt folded down and hung just above his chest, exposing what was his trademark iced skin and protruding ribs that he almost wanted to run his fingers through, letting them slide down his touch. Kibum was just so beautifully carved. Or something similar.
“If I leave, please take care of the house for me. You know, don’t touch the magazines, don’t sleep on my bed and most especially, don’t answer the phone; the usuals. If I leave, please don’t forget about me.”
The sternness of his voice confused him much more than he has ever stepped foot on Room 166. The questions swarmed around his already rotting brain and the feeling of fear showered over him. Jinki feared again. Jinki feared of losing Kibum.
Kibum’s legs loosen around the railings, arms still floating out on the air. The drop from the 16th floor was a long one; that type where you can feel the air behind your back, hear the sounds of silverware clinging onto each other signaling dinnertime, hearing the frustrated honking and zooming of the cars all around Seoul. The drop from the 16th floor was a long one, long enough to hear Jinki’s voice scream, “No. I want to let you live!”
He frees his left leg from the railings and raises it up in the air with only his right shaking for support. Jinki’s eyes dilate and his whole body escaped sanity.
It was that moment when the boy wanted to end his life.
He begs, “I know you’re not like that. I know you’re-NO!”
The lump in Jinki’s throat fights out as he never felt this kind of adrenaline inside him. His veins stressed as he rammed his whole arm, whole body, just to free the door from the chain that separate them. He had his teeth clenched while his body just through itself through the door, his voice croaking.
“Sometimes,” he pauses just to see if Kibum was still there, leg drawing invisible lines in the air. Kibum was still there.
His arm numbed but kicking didn’t do him good. Jinki’s legs shook violently as hope started to drain out the sink. He remembers the beauty that illuminated across his skin.
“-we just need to get,” he stops again as the clinging of breaking metal and chains echoed in his ear, in his heart. The way Kibum’s bones just glisten at the slightest hint across the thinness of his overused wife-beater makes him want to save everything that he wanted to have. Jinki remembers the moment they talked comfortable in his cold bathroom, and thinks of the moments they can actually share with coffee he can prepare and maybe even, and finally, that moment where he can taste him, feel him, and be with him every night. He remembers them, and he tries to never forget. Because the memories from home weren’t something to let go of. Especially when it’s Kibum. The same magazines were scattered on the floor making him slip on his face when gravity pulls him down, same with the chains that hit the floor. Jinki pulled himself up, vision blurred from what he denies as tears.
He jumps at the balcony, feels the sharp wind hit his cheeks, and pulls Kibum with all his might, sending them both flying down the cold wooden floor of Room 166. Jinki’s heart stopped so swiftly, like it just got tired and gave up from running miles. Kibum was motionless on top of him, both of them catching their breaths and fighting off the welling in their eyes. He could hear Kibum’s heart; feel it from that very thin skin separating them. Jinki feels his breathing as Kibum’s lips pressed down on his neck. There were sweat beads rolling down his head, freezing as they slid down. They were silent, with only their panting echoing, joining the sounds of the buzzing city. Jinki only notices that his hands were still gripping the neckline of Kibum’s beater and the jotting bones that was his clavicles were in his touch, finally.
They were everything that he has ever imagined; breathtaking.
What comes after this?
Kibum starts laughing.
And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed until there were tears in his eyes and his body was curling with pain on his abdomen. Kibum continued with all that tone of mockery that made him so trademarked on Jinki’s dented soul. The laughs that made their way to Jinki’s nearby ears struck through his brain. Kibum got out of Jinki’s body and laid on his back on the floor still giggling and squirming all over the place. He has never looked so alive,
And miserable at the same time.
Jinki watches him in awe as he continued to cover his now evident flaws and thoughts. There was no escape now and all he did was to laugh and cover it with smiles that barely hid the scars. Kibum’s eyes were puffed and drooped down, tired and very much dry of tears now. They were empty, clouded with false emotions and lame cover-ups. He stares at the white ceiling and noticed the little details of the chandelier that hung up above him; like how there’re twenty two little dangling crystals and all that shit no one seems to care about. He tries to drift off and assess what he really was feeling. It was definitely anger and frustration.
Jinki then realizes that he’s hiding something much more than Kibum. Why couldn’t he get mad and laugh at his face, as mockingly as he wanted to do?
It’s because he still fears. Ridding fear is impossible.
He sat up next to Kibum, who was still lying down with his back flat on the floor and his arms stretched out. Jinki did not even restrict himself to trace his fingers across his porcelain hand. That big grin on Kibum’s face slowly faded down to a mere emotionless state.
“What were you saying?”
His voice croaked and broke the silence. Jinki shot up, eyes delighted to have heard his voice once again. But he continuously thought. What was he saying? He recalled all the things he heard, very much confused as to which of those have he said aloud or which of those who have been fighting to get out his veins.
“Sometimes we need to what?” Kibum asks him, repeatedly, eyes focused on the chandelier decorated with twenty two crystals.
Jinki smiles, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t stutter when he replied, nor did his heart race out and escape his sanity. He was, for the first time, comfortable. He felt like he was home. He felt like he was home with family.
“Get involved.”
Jinki finished it, imitating Kibum’s ever so gentle voice that sinks down the soul. He could see Kibum’s face brighten up and he chuckles a little to himself. Jinki couldn’t help to give a smile that reached his eyes, perhaps Kibum’s finally welcomed in Kibum’s heart.
Jinki had his chin rested on his free hand while he continued tracing nothings on Kibum’s ice-cold arm and little did he know, he was tracing something that maybe said love or maybe an ‘I missed you’. Maybe.
“Now where did you learn that from?”
Nicotine and the smell of cigarette smoke touched Jinki’s nostrils and he worries for the frail boy. Jinki just couldn’t say anything. He was just grateful that they were together, ready to start flooding the area with petty stories, sitting on the same floor, under the same roof, breathing the same scent of cigarette smoke, sharing kisses that mean nothing more than confusion.
They were just beautifully wasted.
It was Jinki’s initiative, really. He knelt down beside the boy and lowered his lips just in front of Kibum’s, feeling the littlest heat that came out from this almost-dead body. He has never felt so vibrant in his coffee stained life. With every touch, every kiss, every second that they spent just familiarizing the trance they were going into made it feel more adrenalizing. He could feel a smile creeping up while he almost devoured Kim Kibum. He ran his open palms just a little bit inside Kibum’s thin beater and he could just feel all his ribs in his hands, ready to give his soul to its rightful owner. He holds Kibum’s perfectly carved face in his hands while he layed on top of him while their bodies were slowly coming together. The silence was now defeated by their heavy breathing, catching everything they could get just to enjoy the pleasure that has been waiting on their lungs.
He runs his finger on his collar bones.
It’s those perfect embossed bones carved in his impossibly beautiful pale neck. The way they don’t disappear tells him he hasn’t been too well, still lonely even in his presence. 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 out, exhales and throws out all his problems outside his system. It’s those clavicles that define Kim Kibum.
He takes one more glance on Kibum’s clear eyes, hiding nothing. All that they told Jinki was ‘save me’ or something else, though he was sure of it.
And his head spins and spins and spins around drifting into darkness that soon turned light as the sun hit his eyes, his whole body that was, for the first time, lying asleep on Kibum’s bed. He could feel breathing on his nape and he realizes that Kibum was wheezing just beside him.
Jinki slowly, as slowly as he could, turns around just to see him asleep. When he turns, he could feel the sheets and the amazingly warm skin of the younger boy fresh all over his own. When they face each other, he was almost disappointed to see him awake, beating him to the sight. What he wondered now was how he could be so beautiful in the morning, clean of dust in the corner of his eyes, dried saliva on the sides of his lips, and a puffed face, while Jinki remained ugly with eyes unable to open wide, morning breath waving off the air and all the shit normal people look like when they wake up. Maybe Kibum was different.
Kibum was smiling, Jinki thanks the heavens. And everything that his eyes said were unending gazes of gratitude. The type of silence that filled their air was just tinged with love, or something less cheesy. But love isn’t something cheesy. Or maybe it wasn’t love. Jinki giggles as he fiddled with Kibum’s straying hair.
“I’m going home,” Kibum says.
Kibum notices Jinki stop for a while but he gives off a smile of assurance. Kibum looks up and looks at the white ceiling and notices the thirteen cracks straight up connected on each other, like his heart, and surely the heart of his companion.
Jinki’s heart sank, “You’re already home.”
“No,” he simply replies.
Everything that came out of his mouth seemed to have the biggest influence on Jinki. One word and it stings the veins, killing some, letting some live by chance but every time he speaks, Jinki gets dragged. At those times, he just tends to shut his mouth, erasing every perspective he’s had, knowing that it would just get badly defeated. He kept his straight face on and looked out the window, see the clouds moving fast, covering the sun with dark clouds. It was going to rain.
Kibum poked Jinki’s cheek, surprising him.
“I’m not home. We are not home.”
Kibum wasn’t family. He was a friend. A really, really close friend that needed company just so his bones can finally find rest under some healthy skin. He realizes his family waiting for him to come back home, under the roof he’s been raised in with the streets ready to be filled with his presence. The loving kisses from his mom could not compare to Kibum’s touches. He realizes Kibum’s grandma, that’s resting on her new home where peace reigns and problems were under the clouds. Where was home?
It wasn’t the coffee shop he’s worked in, with Minho still waiting for him to come back and probably reside in his home again. It’s back in Gwangmyeong, where his mom’s always cooking up the best food in the universe and dad who was watching football on local shows. It’s where his dog always welcomes him when he comes back from school, tired and weighing books on his hands.
It’s where his heart races to.
-
Kibum goes back to his hometown visiting his grandmother that made her way up to the skies. As for Jinki, he doesn’t go back. Fear maybe? Some people weren’t really born ready. He continues working at the café working on two shifts just to make up for all the work days he missed. Jinki stands out the balcony every night, looking at the city lights, colorful, until they disappear and cover the night pitch black. He smokes now (Kibum’s fault), but worries about his health at the same time though every time he fills his lungs, he feels the problems blurring, burning away.
Room 166 has never felt so deafening. He tries to remember all the radical situations Kibum put him into, making every thought so animated just so he can never miss him. Kibum looked beautiful, and in perfect condition. He ate all the food Jinki brought home and he always went back to the apartment with a smile drawn on his face. They would be happy, watching the cars zoom away, calling people on the streets and hiding behind the railings making sure they won’t be caught.
Kibum told him, one night when he allowed Jinki to sleep beside him, “You’ve changed me.”
Silence. It was just him, the twenty two crystal balls on the chandelier, thirteen cracks on the ceiling and the Nylon magazine laid on the floor now.
Kibum kissed him, Jinki remembers, on the night he went away. Kibum’s head was buried in his neck, blowing warm puffs that made him shiver.
“I won’t be killing myself. Don’t worry.”
Besides fear, he believes loneliness cannot be erased as well. Kibum doesn’t return home after a month. Jinki believes he hasn’t forgotten because he wasn’t that type of person. Maybe home waited for him too. Jinki goes down the apartment, still unsure if he was doing the right thing. He asks Sing-song, who still had her piping voice, if he could use the phone. He forgets the digits a couple of times until a voice comes to comfort his lost soul.
After a small hello, and another, he asks, “Mom?”
A short gasp made its way across the line and Jinki feels a drop of fluid flow down his cheeks swiftly. “How are you?” Her mother replies, as if the situation was all under control but it wasn’t. Her mother hides everything from him, like Kibum did. There was that obvious sadness but the relief from her voice makes Jinki’s heart wrench and curl up into a ball. The guilt consumes him, all of him but there was a ray of happiness and hope but he hangs up saying, “I’ll be back real soon.”
He runs up back to their room, sniffing like a little child, confused, and comforted. He ran, feeling the air run pass him like, ran just to feel him leading from his worries. Home is where his heart is.
Jinki enters the room and realizes that it doesn’t smell like man sweat, mixed perfume, piss, raging pheromones, shit and rotting food. It smells pleasant, just like now, it smelled like barbeques, maybe from the little kiosk below. Life wasn’t to be wasted in some kind of shithole that stank of depression and loneliness.
It’s supposed to be lived with adrenaline.
It felt warmer inside, even if it was the peak of December. He raises his body up the balcony railings and closes his eyes. He inhales deep and shouts in all his might. He raises his arms up in the air, hoping to reach for Kibum’s grandma, so she can tell Kibum’s untold stories, or everything that Kibum was actually afraid of, but he just feels the coldness of someone else’s hands wrapped around his. He stops shouting and plants his gaze on the boy holding him, stopping him from falling back. His face was pale, except for his cheeks that were tinged with pink but looked very beautiful, with features carved impeccably. He looked the same, only his collar bones looked a little less protruding. Though, his bones still stood out and Jinki could almost taste them again, cold and sweet. His eyes, dark, stunned and a little swollen but perhaps more readable, as they well up and tell Jinki, “I’m back.” The just stood there in front of each other, hand in hand, feeling the opposing temperature of both bodies.
He could count his pulses, as Jinki returned the favor of holding the other man’s wrist.
Jinki, still upside down, smiles; smile brighter than the crystal balled chandelier (twenty two crystal balled, if you’ve forgotten) while he faced the other boy who looked stunned and very much scared.
“What are you doing?” his voice almost breaks as he tried to pull heavy Jinki who just weighed himself down, just to see him, vulnerable, and humane.
Jinki giggles, remembering himself on their first meeting, savoring the feeling of his touch on his wrists, “Being a little daring.”
Then Jinki pulls himself up, up the railings, down to the balcony’s floor tiles. He looks at the boy, up and down, and sees a big bag stuffed with barbeque. So that’s why it smelled like it. They both smile and read each other’s eyes.
There’s nothing to hide now.
The boy wrapped his arms around Jinki’s body and buries his face on the crook of his neck.
“Who told you to do that?” he asks even if he knew the answer.
Jinki laughs and laughs even more, hearing his heart overflow with delight.
“You did.”
Of the thousand people Jinki has met and heard stories of from the café, only Kibum changed him. And Jinki stares a little deeper in Kibum’s almond eyes, seeing more than brown, more than Kibum’s heart, and a little more of his own.
“Coffee?”
started: december 20, 2010 finished: february 17, 2011
1. highly inspired by this cf where g-dragon hangs upside down on a rooftop. and just in, pictures like this actually contribute to the story (and you know there're a lot of these xD). i personally think that jinki's collarbones are a whole lot more jotted but kibum's look perfect! * o*
2. i have never imagined such a fic to even reach more than ten thousand words and believe me, i have the biggest love-hate relationship with this story that i couldn't wait to let it go. i personally think that this is no way amazing but the stories beyond this story are just wonderful i couldn't risk not posting it. <3
3. i wonder if someone ever notices that my updating intervals are always six months apart. define lack of inspiration and time. .__. and look at that writing time; two months! my platonic relationship with writing is slowly becoming unbearable but one cannot force herself stray away from something she loves! <3 i'm sorry for being a completely bad friend and a bad writer. ;__; i try my hardest and this has become a product of personal issues and all that shit. but still,
4. i will write more for you. c:
one-shot / onew x key / romance; angst; slice of life / pg 16 / (6,364/11,401 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.
He was awoken by someone letting out ghastly sounds of throwing up. Jinki forces his eyes open and sees the light coming from the bathroom. It was in those times Kibum was dangerously vulnerable. Jinki groggily sets his feet on the freezing wooden floor and unconsciously slips on whatever magazine was left on the floor. He hears a faint groan before peeking in the vomit-reeking bathroom. There he was, laden in the cold bathroom floor with his arms slung around the toilet seat. His body was shining in sweat and you can clearly see he was tired of ridding all the things his body rejected.
What his eyes saw in Kibum’s was drowned bloodshot ones. His lips, his beautiful lips that spoke of words that pass through his heart, were stained in an abhorrent green unknown matter and he just launches on his face like he did on day one of their meeting. When they lock on each other’s eyes, his just looked like they were pleading for something he couldn’t figure. Was it companionship? Perhaps he just wants me out.
Jinki rolls out a thick bundle of tissue paper, dampens it with warm water, and wipes Kibum’s dirty lips. The way he doesn’t reject him makes Jinki wonder that he wanted company. They just sit there, in front of each other while Jinki cleans him up like a mother nursing her child. His skin was burning and his lips quivered from time to time. The silence between them just amplifies the beats of Kibum’s heart. He realizes that in this coldest hour of the dark morning, he was still clad in his low neck beater and thin pajamas. His pale skin was blushed in warm pink signaling a slight fever and his bones protruded every second he breathed making Jinki reel out just a little bit. He prepares a basin and makes him brush his teeth sitting down because the way alcohol works through the night is a living hell, punching needles through your temples and all that unthinkable details. When he finishes cleaning him up, Jinki wraps his palms on his tiny wrists and lift him up, which surprises him because this was the first time he’s taking such initiative. If it can, you can just hear the faint sizzle as Jinki’s freezing palms held on to his burning skin.
“I want to stay here,” his voice croaks as he hesitates on getting up and the pain was equally audible. Kibum’s eyes shut tight but he never forgets to smile faintly just to reassure Jinki he was alright. Even if he wasn’t.
“I’m getting you something warm. Or something.”
Kibum almost slaps Jinki’s arm when he grabs hold of them, as tight as never letting go. There was a widespread of electric current travelling through his heart and it felt really good that Jinki smiled a little. Kibum just whispers, “I like the cold.”
And it figures.
“Are you al-alright now?”Jinki pauses just when Kibum brushes his fingers across the bottom of Jinki’s eyes to dust off the little morning glories that picked up through the night.
“Thanks to you,” he smiles a bright one and it warms Jinki’s heart.
And they talk about the little things that didn’t matter much. They never talk about themselves though because it’s much more interesting digging on others lives. Like how Kibum has a friend that sleeps in the subway because he doesn’t want anything more than to sleep there. And they laugh over Jinki’s gags that weren’t even close to humorous. The embarrassment was just funny. They were pulling their hearts together, laughing at the most pathetic details the world has created. They live in their own world now.
“I’ve never thought about grinding something else than coffee beans, ever,” Jinki giggles in a very much comfortable way after a long time.
Kibum fights, “I said that? Really though, get laid. Or at least do something outrageous.”
He just has no idea how much outrageous doings he has been into in the days they were together.
“Believe it or not, I can hang upside d-down al-” Jinki’s voice trails away.
The ringing of the telephone echoed across their little apartment.
The change in both of their expressions was just impossible to capture. Kibum’s eyes ruptured in some kind of way Jinki was suddenly afraid of. But he just smiles.
“You mean on the balcony railings?” Kibum’s voice quivers when he changes the mood as the telephone rings on further.
Jinki shrugs as it rung repeatedly, like the other person on the line just never gave up. And he figures it was really something important. Though, he was forbidden to even touch that telephone.
“I should answer that,” Jinki volunteers but his legs just don’t move forward because Kibum was in a daze, a very frightful daze.
Finally, it stops, both of them giving off a silent sigh.
“Why don’t you just cut the lines?” There was no point of not asking anyway. It was very reasonable.
Fortunately, his lips curled and he just says, “As much as I don’t want to, I need to be involved.”
Jinki sits down again in front of him, unable to erase the awkwardness that started to build up. He doesn’t think about the café even if he needed to be there working a few hours from now. It was impossible to ignore this beautiful boy with words that only came out of his mouth in the most important times. He could’ve sworn to himself that he saw Kibum’s eyes moisten a little but he resists asking why he’s bothered. Again, the air is wafted with only the invisible barrier Jinki automatically sets in every social interaction.
Jinki tries to smile, hoping that one of his smiles can speak of words his heart can’t even deliver through his veins, through his lips. The bathroom that had iced floors started closing up on them, or was it Kibum leaning forward placing his intricately carved figures centimeters far from his. His smile changes into a more anxious one, and he slowly ends up shutting his lips tight as to being afraid. But he wasn’t afraid. Jinki backs up as far as his body has press against the white tiles of the bathroom walls and he just couldn’t back up anymore. He smells the mix of toothpaste and the smallest hint of alcohol lingering out of his teeth, sliding through his barely chapped lips. Jinki felt Kibum’s legs slither on his sides until he rests his body on his lap. Kibum’s eyes darted down Jinki’s lips as he closed their proximity but he stops.
Stops, and smiles.
Jinki remained pressed against the white walls trying to back away, trying to breathe the cool air away from the peppermint smelling one. Kibum’s body was hot against his skin and it wasn’t helping his racing heart that much. Kibum’s head was tilted, positioned, and poised to devour Jinki with kisses that would make his soul explode with delight and much more confusion. But he stopped. The littlest movement can have their lips touching, tongues swiveling, body heat undefined.
But he almost hears Kibum smile and chuckle under his skin.
Finally, Kibum spoke, not bothering to move an inch away from him. “You think you’ve learned how to rid of your fear of adrenaline, but fear isn’t rid of without being able to accept that ridding fear is something that’s inevitable. Fear is impossibly, and abhorrently, permanent. Sorry.”
Jinki looked almost cross-eyed trying to read both of Kibum’s eyes who were so near his, but he reads them now, as if they were the door to his locked heart, as if they were so transparent. Kibum was all sorts of afraid. Kibum was all sorts of hiding his fears, not freeing them. Perhaps, their hearts were closer after all.
Jinki closes his eyes and waits for Kibum to press his iced lips on his and let him just forget the night, and forget the café, and forget sanity. His lips almost part as he readies himself for something much more adrenaline rising. But the smell of peppermint fades. He opens his eyes and sees Kibum away from him again and ready to stand up. He looked aggravated or maybe even mad. His skin that resembled the snow that might come soon was all he could look at.
Kibum looks at the mirror but rests his eyes on Jinki’s reflection and then, they look at each other. Kibum scrambles his emotions and he rolls his eyes intently with the littlest smirk before stepping out.
“The brave running from the coward,” Kibum fails to hide this one thought and he wishes he hasn’t whispered it aloud.
He walks away with dark almond eyes pleading to forget the night. Jinki stares into nothing until he falls asleep dreaming of porcelain skin and chapped lips.
-
They don’t see each other in four days and six hours. Before he knew it, he’s more than worried; worried, not only because his heart was starting to ache in the most absurd way, but because the telephone rang. It rang with the highest of pitches every night and it seemed to yell at him to pick it up. No, he won’t because he would want nothing more but to stay even if it meant long days without Kibum. It happened every midnight, waking him up feeling groggy as ever and he can’t just ignore it. The ringing was as demanding as it never stops. The stranger from the other line surely needs Kibum and this is practically why it haunts back every 1 a.m. Every time it rings a million times and stops, it returns back after a couple of minutes. And then, it gives up for the night.
Every night he was left alone, he hangs down the balcony railings and breathes the cold air that prevails every time he breathes. He doesn’t sweat anymore, his heart doesn’t race anymore, he doesn’t feel anything anymore. Perhaps, he just wants Kibum to at least hang upside down with him, where they can forget all that is in this stereotypical world and live on their own universe.
He remembers at the back of his head, like Kibum’s nagging voice, someone needed to get involved.
On the fifth night, the phone doesn’t ring. The wave of relief showers done his body but the feeling of aloneness devours him. Jinki sets out early (exceptionally early because he got a long scolding from his boss when he went late for work after Kibum’s intoxication night) and heads out the quiet streets to greet the dawn. As he passes the untouched magazines on the floor and holds on to the doorknob, the phone rings.
He almost leaps and he prays only a little that he should’ve turned the knob earlier and went out a little faster. He stares at it, like it was the ticking time bomb of his life. His involvement would mean eternal relief or maybe even a painful path. He tells himself ‘don’t get involved’ a couple of times under his breath until he hitches out curse words when his feet drag him toward the ringing telephone. It will soon be over anyway.
The ringing will soon be over anyway, when his fingers clasp the body of the telephone, and hold it on his ear, hearing the sound of the relentless and desperate caller.
“H-hello?”
He realizes it’s been quite a while since he last stuttered and shook violently. His palms sweat like the phone was about to slip away his fingers. It was déjà vu; back to that wretched day he first transferred. The lump in his throat froze even his whole body. It was a lady on the other line. Her voice was pleasant, but more likely shaky and scared.
“Kibum?” she pipes in a hoarse start.
“Ah, t-this is not-,” he halts to a stop and hears another bomb detonate a few feet away from him. There were audible footsteps and the doorknob was shaking, he could almost hear the other spare keys dangling while the person across the wooden door unlocks it, letting the doorknob turn. He’s all sorts of dead right now.
It was him, who’s forbade him to set a finger on the god damn telephone. It was him who needed to get involved.
The lady from the other line continued to talk as the two little boys meet eyes. Jinki’s heart stopped as he watched Kibum frozen, and practically killing him with every knife that shoot out his eyes. Before Kibum can actually yank the telephone away from Jinki, he hears the final words from the lady that were concealed with weeps.
“Your grandma…”
It was enough to understand every single matter Kibum hid under his eyes, under his skin, under his bones that conceal his dark heart that yearned for comfort. Kibum pushed him away, enough for his back to hit the cold floor and him to groan in pain. In those days of absence, he reeked of alcohol, cigarette smoke and Korean barbeque which he probably fished out on one of his nights. He was covered in warm clothes, thankfully but his wrists were paper thin.
After a very silent exchange of words between Kibum and the lady on the other line, he hung the line and pulled the connection, with a yank that was covered in frustration. He remembers asking him why he didn’t pull the line out. Perhaps this time, he’s had enough involvement. Jinki stands up and tries to explain but instead, Kibum stabbed him with silence that was enough to let Jinki crumble and rot on the floor. The whiteness of his skin grew even whiter that his lips were drained in color. The redness that circled around his eyes was all signs of vulnerability. And for once, he looked really human. Kibum walks to Jinki but he backs away, like he did when they were inches apart. He backs out of the door just when Kibum stops.
“It wouldn’t stop. I wanted to get involved to help,” Jinki’s voice shakes.
But Kibum smiles the most painful smile that has ever grazed his perfectly carved face. Kibum clenched his fists and fought the welling in his eyes with a smile that slowly turned into quivering lips that spoke of devastation.
“I’m sor-” Jinki tries to reach out but the Kibum pushes the wall in between them again.
And it ends with a bang.
-
He goes to work, arriving late again, but the voice of his boss was of comfort and concern. The emptiness written on his eyes has influenced the bitterness of the coffee he served. Minho approaches him but Jinki shakes his head. He can’t go back to his shared apartment nor does he want to reside with Minho again. With all the failures and klutziness he’s ever been involved in, this was the most despicable one. He gets sent off for the day by his boss, telling him to put himself together but it was near impossible at the moment.
Great.
He’d have no choice to go back.
“I’d get my things, search for a new apartment and probably stay at Minho’s for, at most, a week. I won’t be long. And then, I’d just forget everything. Forget this and be that fearful and boring stereotype,” he repeats to himself devising a plan that would hurt no one but him. Kibum will probably be out, or something else, he hopes. But the sweat in his palms continued to spill out even if the cold wind was blowing hard. He tries to walk as slowly as he can, catching time but his thoughts take the best of him and the noise inside him was more than deafening. His grandma, Jinki’s thoughts pan. He never mentioned family nor did he want it to be mentioned. For his two month total stay, Jinki was his family. Or at least he thinks he was to him. Nevertheless, Kibum was Jinki’s family.
And he wanted to go home.
His feet drag him quick making him run with fists balled with emotions that were raging up and down and up and down. If it was easy the first time, then it must be much easier the second. He just wished that Kibum was there.
Not killing himself.
A smile is drawn across his face and his hopes rose up enough to send his heart leaping in fireworks. Whatever he has under his shirt, whatever he hid under his eyes, whatever there was inside his bone-ridden heart was something dragging; like Sing-song’s voice in the middle of a frustrating life or like new stories that are overheard in the coffee reeked shop,
Jinki just wanted Kibum.
Jinki stops over at the barbeque kiosk in front of their apartment and bought a feast that they could hopefully share with drinks and stories that would flood or hearts, draining all the wariness. The smile in his face never went off and the joy that hid behind his eyes was almost visible. The food was warm and if it was anything else, he just wants to be happy.
The moment he’s in front of their door, his heart raced a million miles faster but he held it back, holding on to the plastic of food in his hands. He presses his ears at the door, just as he did, but he hears nothing.
“Please don’t be away,” he whispers to himself as he punctured his keys on the knob. It snapped open but the door chain was secured.
It never was secured. Kibum didn’t want him in. A pang of fright and sadness filled his heart. He peers inside the tiny gap the door left for him. He sees half of the balcony and the untouched Nylon magazine on the floor. Jinki almost leaps when he saw Kibum hung upside down on the railings yet again with a train of smoke heading up north. He was smoking.
Jinki hated him smoking.
“I brought food for you,” Jinki hopes for the best, Kibum forgetting what has happened the morning. Maybe he was that kind of person. Or maybe he wasn’t.
No reply.
“It’s those barbeques from downstairs,” he makes an effort and he promised himself to not give up.
Jinki could almost feel his soul crumble down with every second of silence that crushed his ears. The heat rising up in his head made him throw a fist on the door different from all the other doors and even kick it, trying to at least destroy the chain that separates them. The barbeques fall down the floor as Jinki uses his whole arm to push through the door. His vision blurred while his eyes welled in what he thought was tears. No. They weren’t tears.
He will continue to deny himself. That was Jinki.
“Please,” his voice shakes and whispers halfway through because he was gasping for air, giving blows by blows.
Jinki hears something drop from the inside, stopping him from banging through the strong wood. He peered through the gap again and saw Kibum still on his same position, intoxicating himself with smoke and nicotine.
“Hey, kid.”
Kibum breaks all walls of silence and speaks out, speaks those first words when they met which angered him so much because he wasn’t the kid. Jinki wipes all sweat, tears or was that snot just above his lips. The train of smoke stops and the hem of his shirt folded down and hung just above his chest, exposing what was his trademark iced skin and protruding ribs that he almost wanted to run his fingers through, letting them slide down his touch. Kibum was just so beautifully carved. Or something similar.
“If I leave, please take care of the house for me. You know, don’t touch the magazines, don’t sleep on my bed and most especially, don’t answer the phone; the usuals. If I leave, please don’t forget about me.”
The sternness of his voice confused him much more than he has ever stepped foot on Room 166. The questions swarmed around his already rotting brain and the feeling of fear showered over him. Jinki feared again. Jinki feared of losing Kibum.
Kibum’s legs loosen around the railings, arms still floating out on the air. The drop from the 16th floor was a long one; that type where you can feel the air behind your back, hear the sounds of silverware clinging onto each other signaling dinnertime, hearing the frustrated honking and zooming of the cars all around Seoul. The drop from the 16th floor was a long one, long enough to hear Jinki’s voice scream, “No. I want to let you live!”
He frees his left leg from the railings and raises it up in the air with only his right shaking for support. Jinki’s eyes dilate and his whole body escaped sanity.
It was that moment when the boy wanted to end his life.
He begs, “I know you’re not like that. I know you’re-NO!”
The lump in Jinki’s throat fights out as he never felt this kind of adrenaline inside him. His veins stressed as he rammed his whole arm, whole body, just to free the door from the chain that separate them. He had his teeth clenched while his body just through itself through the door, his voice croaking.
“Sometimes,” he pauses just to see if Kibum was still there, leg drawing invisible lines in the air. Kibum was still there.
His arm numbed but kicking didn’t do him good. Jinki’s legs shook violently as hope started to drain out the sink. He remembers the beauty that illuminated across his skin.
“-we just need to get,” he stops again as the clinging of breaking metal and chains echoed in his ear, in his heart. The way Kibum’s bones just glisten at the slightest hint across the thinness of his overused wife-beater makes him want to save everything that he wanted to have. Jinki remembers the moment they talked comfortable in his cold bathroom, and thinks of the moments they can actually share with coffee he can prepare and maybe even, and finally, that moment where he can taste him, feel him, and be with him every night. He remembers them, and he tries to never forget. Because the memories from home weren’t something to let go of. Especially when it’s Kibum. The same magazines were scattered on the floor making him slip on his face when gravity pulls him down, same with the chains that hit the floor. Jinki pulled himself up, vision blurred from what he denies as tears.
He jumps at the balcony, feels the sharp wind hit his cheeks, and pulls Kibum with all his might, sending them both flying down the cold wooden floor of Room 166. Jinki’s heart stopped so swiftly, like it just got tired and gave up from running miles. Kibum was motionless on top of him, both of them catching their breaths and fighting off the welling in their eyes. He could hear Kibum’s heart; feel it from that very thin skin separating them. Jinki feels his breathing as Kibum’s lips pressed down on his neck. There were sweat beads rolling down his head, freezing as they slid down. They were silent, with only their panting echoing, joining the sounds of the buzzing city. Jinki only notices that his hands were still gripping the neckline of Kibum’s beater and the jotting bones that was his clavicles were in his touch, finally.
They were everything that he has ever imagined; breathtaking.
What comes after this?
Kibum starts laughing.
And he laughed, and laughed, and laughed until there were tears in his eyes and his body was curling with pain on his abdomen. Kibum continued with all that tone of mockery that made him so trademarked on Jinki’s dented soul. The laughs that made their way to Jinki’s nearby ears struck through his brain. Kibum got out of Jinki’s body and laid on his back on the floor still giggling and squirming all over the place. He has never looked so alive,
And miserable at the same time.
Jinki watches him in awe as he continued to cover his now evident flaws and thoughts. There was no escape now and all he did was to laugh and cover it with smiles that barely hid the scars. Kibum’s eyes were puffed and drooped down, tired and very much dry of tears now. They were empty, clouded with false emotions and lame cover-ups. He stares at the white ceiling and noticed the little details of the chandelier that hung up above him; like how there’re twenty two little dangling crystals and all that shit no one seems to care about. He tries to drift off and assess what he really was feeling. It was definitely anger and frustration.
Jinki then realizes that he’s hiding something much more than Kibum. Why couldn’t he get mad and laugh at his face, as mockingly as he wanted to do?
It’s because he still fears. Ridding fear is impossible.
He sat up next to Kibum, who was still lying down with his back flat on the floor and his arms stretched out. Jinki did not even restrict himself to trace his fingers across his porcelain hand. That big grin on Kibum’s face slowly faded down to a mere emotionless state.
“What were you saying?”
His voice croaked and broke the silence. Jinki shot up, eyes delighted to have heard his voice once again. But he continuously thought. What was he saying? He recalled all the things he heard, very much confused as to which of those have he said aloud or which of those who have been fighting to get out his veins.
“Sometimes we need to what?” Kibum asks him, repeatedly, eyes focused on the chandelier decorated with twenty two crystals.
Jinki smiles, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t stutter when he replied, nor did his heart race out and escape his sanity. He was, for the first time, comfortable. He felt like he was home. He felt like he was home with family.
“Get involved.”
Jinki finished it, imitating Kibum’s ever so gentle voice that sinks down the soul. He could see Kibum’s face brighten up and he chuckles a little to himself. Jinki couldn’t help to give a smile that reached his eyes, perhaps Kibum’s finally welcomed in Kibum’s heart.
Jinki had his chin rested on his free hand while he continued tracing nothings on Kibum’s ice-cold arm and little did he know, he was tracing something that maybe said love or maybe an ‘I missed you’. Maybe.
“Now where did you learn that from?”
Nicotine and the smell of cigarette smoke touched Jinki’s nostrils and he worries for the frail boy. Jinki just couldn’t say anything. He was just grateful that they were together, ready to start flooding the area with petty stories, sitting on the same floor, under the same roof, breathing the same scent of cigarette smoke, sharing kisses that mean nothing more than confusion.
They were just beautifully wasted.
It was Jinki’s initiative, really. He knelt down beside the boy and lowered his lips just in front of Kibum’s, feeling the littlest heat that came out from this almost-dead body. He has never felt so vibrant in his coffee stained life. With every touch, every kiss, every second that they spent just familiarizing the trance they were going into made it feel more adrenalizing. He could feel a smile creeping up while he almost devoured Kim Kibum. He ran his open palms just a little bit inside Kibum’s thin beater and he could just feel all his ribs in his hands, ready to give his soul to its rightful owner. He holds Kibum’s perfectly carved face in his hands while he layed on top of him while their bodies were slowly coming together. The silence was now defeated by their heavy breathing, catching everything they could get just to enjoy the pleasure that has been waiting on their lungs.
He runs his finger on his collar bones.
It’s those perfect embossed bones carved in his impossibly beautiful pale neck. The way they don’t disappear tells him he hasn’t been too well, still lonely even in his presence. 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 out, exhales and throws out all his problems outside his system. It’s those clavicles that define Kim Kibum.
He takes one more glance on Kibum’s clear eyes, hiding nothing. All that they told Jinki was ‘save me’ or something else, though he was sure of it.
And his head spins and spins and spins around drifting into darkness that soon turned light as the sun hit his eyes, his whole body that was, for the first time, lying asleep on Kibum’s bed. He could feel breathing on his nape and he realizes that Kibum was wheezing just beside him.
Jinki slowly, as slowly as he could, turns around just to see him asleep. When he turns, he could feel the sheets and the amazingly warm skin of the younger boy fresh all over his own. When they face each other, he was almost disappointed to see him awake, beating him to the sight. What he wondered now was how he could be so beautiful in the morning, clean of dust in the corner of his eyes, dried saliva on the sides of his lips, and a puffed face, while Jinki remained ugly with eyes unable to open wide, morning breath waving off the air and all the shit normal people look like when they wake up. Maybe Kibum was different.
Kibum was smiling, Jinki thanks the heavens. And everything that his eyes said were unending gazes of gratitude. The type of silence that filled their air was just tinged with love, or something less cheesy. But love isn’t something cheesy. Or maybe it wasn’t love. Jinki giggles as he fiddled with Kibum’s straying hair.
“I’m going home,” Kibum says.
Kibum notices Jinki stop for a while but he gives off a smile of assurance. Kibum looks up and looks at the white ceiling and notices the thirteen cracks straight up connected on each other, like his heart, and surely the heart of his companion.
Jinki’s heart sank, “You’re already home.”
“No,” he simply replies.
Everything that came out of his mouth seemed to have the biggest influence on Jinki. One word and it stings the veins, killing some, letting some live by chance but every time he speaks, Jinki gets dragged. At those times, he just tends to shut his mouth, erasing every perspective he’s had, knowing that it would just get badly defeated. He kept his straight face on and looked out the window, see the clouds moving fast, covering the sun with dark clouds. It was going to rain.
Kibum poked Jinki’s cheek, surprising him.
“I’m not home. We are not home.”
Kibum wasn’t family. He was a friend. A really, really close friend that needed company just so his bones can finally find rest under some healthy skin. He realizes his family waiting for him to come back home, under the roof he’s been raised in with the streets ready to be filled with his presence. The loving kisses from his mom could not compare to Kibum’s touches. He realizes Kibum’s grandma, that’s resting on her new home where peace reigns and problems were under the clouds. Where was home?
It wasn’t the coffee shop he’s worked in, with Minho still waiting for him to come back and probably reside in his home again. It’s back in Gwangmyeong, where his mom’s always cooking up the best food in the universe and dad who was watching football on local shows. It’s where his dog always welcomes him when he comes back from school, tired and weighing books on his hands.
It’s where his heart races to.
-
Kibum goes back to his hometown visiting his grandmother that made her way up to the skies. As for Jinki, he doesn’t go back. Fear maybe? Some people weren’t really born ready. He continues working at the café working on two shifts just to make up for all the work days he missed. Jinki stands out the balcony every night, looking at the city lights, colorful, until they disappear and cover the night pitch black. He smokes now (Kibum’s fault), but worries about his health at the same time though every time he fills his lungs, he feels the problems blurring, burning away.
Room 166 has never felt so deafening. He tries to remember all the radical situations Kibum put him into, making every thought so animated just so he can never miss him. Kibum looked beautiful, and in perfect condition. He ate all the food Jinki brought home and he always went back to the apartment with a smile drawn on his face. They would be happy, watching the cars zoom away, calling people on the streets and hiding behind the railings making sure they won’t be caught.
Kibum told him, one night when he allowed Jinki to sleep beside him, “You’ve changed me.”
Silence. It was just him, the twenty two crystal balls on the chandelier, thirteen cracks on the ceiling and the Nylon magazine laid on the floor now.
Kibum kissed him, Jinki remembers, on the night he went away. Kibum’s head was buried in his neck, blowing warm puffs that made him shiver.
“I won’t be killing myself. Don’t worry.”
Besides fear, he believes loneliness cannot be erased as well. Kibum doesn’t return home after a month. Jinki believes he hasn’t forgotten because he wasn’t that type of person. Maybe home waited for him too. Jinki goes down the apartment, still unsure if he was doing the right thing. He asks Sing-song, who still had her piping voice, if he could use the phone. He forgets the digits a couple of times until a voice comes to comfort his lost soul.
After a small hello, and another, he asks, “Mom?”
A short gasp made its way across the line and Jinki feels a drop of fluid flow down his cheeks swiftly. “How are you?” Her mother replies, as if the situation was all under control but it wasn’t. Her mother hides everything from him, like Kibum did. There was that obvious sadness but the relief from her voice makes Jinki’s heart wrench and curl up into a ball. The guilt consumes him, all of him but there was a ray of happiness and hope but he hangs up saying, “I’ll be back real soon.”
He runs up back to their room, sniffing like a little child, confused, and comforted. He ran, feeling the air run pass him like, ran just to feel him leading from his worries. Home is where his heart is.
Jinki enters the room and realizes that it doesn’t smell like man sweat, mixed perfume, piss, raging pheromones, shit and rotting food. It smells pleasant, just like now, it smelled like barbeques, maybe from the little kiosk below. Life wasn’t to be wasted in some kind of shithole that stank of depression and loneliness.
It’s supposed to be lived with adrenaline.
It felt warmer inside, even if it was the peak of December. He raises his body up the balcony railings and closes his eyes. He inhales deep and shouts in all his might. He raises his arms up in the air, hoping to reach for Kibum’s grandma, so she can tell Kibum’s untold stories, or everything that Kibum was actually afraid of, but he just feels the coldness of someone else’s hands wrapped around his. He stops shouting and plants his gaze on the boy holding him, stopping him from falling back. His face was pale, except for his cheeks that were tinged with pink but looked very beautiful, with features carved impeccably. He looked the same, only his collar bones looked a little less protruding. Though, his bones still stood out and Jinki could almost taste them again, cold and sweet. His eyes, dark, stunned and a little swollen but perhaps more readable, as they well up and tell Jinki, “I’m back.” The just stood there in front of each other, hand in hand, feeling the opposing temperature of both bodies.
He could count his pulses, as Jinki returned the favor of holding the other man’s wrist.
Jinki, still upside down, smiles; smile brighter than the crystal balled chandelier (twenty two crystal balled, if you’ve forgotten) while he faced the other boy who looked stunned and very much scared.
“What are you doing?” his voice almost breaks as he tried to pull heavy Jinki who just weighed himself down, just to see him, vulnerable, and humane.
Jinki giggles, remembering himself on their first meeting, savoring the feeling of his touch on his wrists, “Being a little daring.”
Then Jinki pulls himself up, up the railings, down to the balcony’s floor tiles. He looks at the boy, up and down, and sees a big bag stuffed with barbeque. So that’s why it smelled like it. They both smile and read each other’s eyes.
There’s nothing to hide now.
The boy wrapped his arms around Jinki’s body and buries his face on the crook of his neck.
“Who told you to do that?” he asks even if he knew the answer.
Jinki laughs and laughs even more, hearing his heart overflow with delight.
“You did.”
Of the thousand people Jinki has met and heard stories of from the café, only Kibum changed him. And Jinki stares a little deeper in Kibum’s almond eyes, seeing more than brown, more than Kibum’s heart, and a little more of his own.
“Coffee?”
started: december 20, 2010 finished: february 17, 2011
1. highly inspired by this cf where g-dragon hangs upside down on a rooftop. and just in, pictures like this actually contribute to the story (and you know there're a lot of these xD). i personally think that jinki's collarbones are a whole lot more jotted but kibum's look perfect! * o*
2. i have never imagined such a fic to even reach more than ten thousand words and believe me, i have the biggest love-hate relationship with this story that i couldn't wait to let it go. i personally think that this is no way amazing but the stories beyond this story are just wonderful i couldn't risk not posting it. <3
3. i wonder if someone ever notices that my updating intervals are always six months apart. define lack of inspiration and time. .__. and look at that writing time; two months! my platonic relationship with writing is slowly becoming unbearable but one cannot force herself stray away from something she loves! <3 i'm sorry for being a completely bad friend and a bad writer. ;__; i try my hardest and this has become a product of personal issues and all that shit. but still,
4. i will write more for you. c: