Designer Hearts
Title: Designer Hearts
Pairing: jonghyun/key
Rating: PG
Summary: They say the heart never forgets. I say that's a load of crap.
There are many ways to tell a story, that’s a fact. I could start by telling you about that freezing cold October night when Kibum was driving home from the city or I could describe the circumstances under which he had left or -sure- I could sugarcoat the way I felt when the phone rang in the middle of the night. But facts are facts, and they deserve to be told as such. Kibum had been in a car crush.
I…
I don’t wanna talk about it.
They brought another boy in his place. Naïve almond-shaped eyes, brown hair with red highlights, pointy nose, rosy cheeks. It looked like a duck out of the water, the poor thing. I bossed him around for a while, testing the ground, extracting revenge for the empty space between my lungs. That kept my blood running for a while.
Then I got depressed.
The night we left the hospital for the last time, Taemin was crying. I told him to shut up, I told him Key was gone, I told him he’s never coming back. Onew grabbed my arm and shook me harshly, yelling something I couldn’t comprehend, but he wouldn’t stop, the boy wouldn’t stop. I told him to shut up again. And again. He kept asking me to stop yelling but I wasn’t yelling, there was nothing wrong with my voice, there was something wrong with the walls for they were closing in on me, so I told him we’re never coming back here, you’ll never see him again, you’d better forget all about him and for good measure you’d better shut the fuck up too.
Shut the fuck up.
“Hello, may I help you?” I keep my hands in my pockets; he plays with his hair and smiles.
“No” his face falls for a second and then he casts me a calculative glance.
“Do I know you?” he asks carefully, going back to pretending he’s arranging the clothes on the hangers. The spring collection, I think numbly.
“No, I don’t think so” I take a sit and watch him for a while. “I’m waiting for someone” I add.
“Karin? She’ll be here any minute”
“No, not Karin” he turns around and looks at me again, those eyes that once used to make me stronger now have me dying on the floor. “You do know me” he smiles again, the confident bastard. I want to tell him to come back to us, to make them take that duck-boy away, to help me up to my feet again. I don’t.
“Is that the spring collection?” I ask instead. “Yes. Ain’t it pretty?” he caresses a dress absent-mindedly. He looks so much at peace. “Sometimes I forget I’ve designed them, but I still find them beautiful.”
“They are”
“Thank you” he turns around to look at me. I guess my eyes are wet by now because he’s making that face, that face which I guess I miss the most. The face that says ‘everything will be okay, don’t cry, don’t cry’.
Before I manage to move a finger his face is close to mine, his fingers are saving my cheeks from drowning. I think I’m mumbling something along the lines of “I hate the duck-boy, come back, won’t you come back?” I sob and I sob and I sob some more so he opens his arms and welcomes me in, saying “who doesn’t”, humor in his voice.
I’m pretty sure he remembers everything, I’m pretty sure it was all a lie to get rid of my mood-swings. I’m pretty sure I will drown in my tears. He lifts my face up, cradling it in his large hands, looking at me with those eyes, talking to me with those lips. “You’re pretty” he says, he leans in and kisses me. There are wasps under my skin. Relentless little wasps. We pull apart. “You should be in a band”
Run. Run. Run. Survival instincts. Everyone has them, so I run towards the glass door, I push it open and I run.
All I can think about is that it is only Monday.
Pairing: jonghyun/key
Rating: PG
Summary: They say the heart never forgets. I say that's a load of crap.
There are many ways to tell a story, that’s a fact. I could start by telling you about that freezing cold October night when Kibum was driving home from the city or I could describe the circumstances under which he had left or -sure- I could sugarcoat the way I felt when the phone rang in the middle of the night. But facts are facts, and they deserve to be told as such. Kibum had been in a car crush.
I…
I don’t wanna talk about it.
They brought another boy in his place. Naïve almond-shaped eyes, brown hair with red highlights, pointy nose, rosy cheeks. It looked like a duck out of the water, the poor thing. I bossed him around for a while, testing the ground, extracting revenge for the empty space between my lungs. That kept my blood running for a while.
Then I got depressed.
The night we left the hospital for the last time, Taemin was crying. I told him to shut up, I told him Key was gone, I told him he’s never coming back. Onew grabbed my arm and shook me harshly, yelling something I couldn’t comprehend, but he wouldn’t stop, the boy wouldn’t stop. I told him to shut up again. And again. He kept asking me to stop yelling but I wasn’t yelling, there was nothing wrong with my voice, there was something wrong with the walls for they were closing in on me, so I told him we’re never coming back here, you’ll never see him again, you’d better forget all about him and for good measure you’d better shut the fuck up too.
Shut the fuck up.
“Hello, may I help you?” I keep my hands in my pockets; he plays with his hair and smiles.
“No” his face falls for a second and then he casts me a calculative glance.
“Do I know you?” he asks carefully, going back to pretending he’s arranging the clothes on the hangers. The spring collection, I think numbly.
“No, I don’t think so” I take a sit and watch him for a while. “I’m waiting for someone” I add.
“Karin? She’ll be here any minute”
“No, not Karin” he turns around and looks at me again, those eyes that once used to make me stronger now have me dying on the floor. “You do know me” he smiles again, the confident bastard. I want to tell him to come back to us, to make them take that duck-boy away, to help me up to my feet again. I don’t.
“Is that the spring collection?” I ask instead. “Yes. Ain’t it pretty?” he caresses a dress absent-mindedly. He looks so much at peace. “Sometimes I forget I’ve designed them, but I still find them beautiful.”
“They are”
“Thank you” he turns around to look at me. I guess my eyes are wet by now because he’s making that face, that face which I guess I miss the most. The face that says ‘everything will be okay, don’t cry, don’t cry’.
Before I manage to move a finger his face is close to mine, his fingers are saving my cheeks from drowning. I think I’m mumbling something along the lines of “I hate the duck-boy, come back, won’t you come back?” I sob and I sob and I sob some more so he opens his arms and welcomes me in, saying “who doesn’t”, humor in his voice.
I’m pretty sure he remembers everything, I’m pretty sure it was all a lie to get rid of my mood-swings. I’m pretty sure I will drown in my tears. He lifts my face up, cradling it in his large hands, looking at me with those eyes, talking to me with those lips. “You’re pretty” he says, he leans in and kisses me. There are wasps under my skin. Relentless little wasps. We pull apart. “You should be in a band”
Run. Run. Run. Survival instincts. Everyone has them, so I run towards the glass door, I push it open and I run.
All I can think about is that it is only Monday.