Challenge #3 - Entry 4
Title: shining like a million suns
Pairing: onew/key (jinki/kibum)
Rating: pg-13
Summary: “You’re talking to ghosts, Jinki; that’s not normal, even for you.” in which kibum isn’t willing to move on, and jinki can’t find his peace of mind.
Song used for inspiration: moby - “shot in the back of the head”
“You must be Lee Jinki.”
Said man nodded, slowly, mostly in fear of the blonde before him and partly because he’d forgotten his mother’s rules on manners and how to make first impressions. He decided to offer his hand and his best smile; it usually worked in situations like these, even when both friendly devices shook in the tenant’s proximity.
“Kim Jonghyun,” the blonde introduced, ignoring the hand but smiling anyway. He gestured to the expanse of brightly covered walls and floors behind him. “It’s a typical two bedroom, one bath apartment, complete with a kitchenette to the left, a closet that houses the previous tenant’s shoes and accessories, a living room here and, well, that’s it. Any questions?”
Jinki shook his head, gripped tighter on the strap of his messenger bag, and, remembering some of his upbringing, said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Jonghyun’s face scrunched up in confusion, and Jinki continued, flailing, probably putting his foot in his mouth as per usual, “Losing your best friend like that, it must be hard -”
“What the hell are you talking about? Kibum’s not dead, dumbass.”
Jinki’s entire expression deflated while Jonghyun’s darkened. “But I, I thought that he… the lady said that he was killed in a car accident!”
There was a brief moment of silence. Jinki shuffled his feet and kept his gaze on the ground. “Kibum’s comatose, that’s all.” He heard Jonghyun sigh. “Your room is down the hall to the right.” He laced up his sneakers at the doorway, pausing only to give Jinki further instructions. “Stay out of my room and keep out of Kibum’s things. Otherwise, make yourself comfortable.”
Just as Jinki was about to ask where the other was going the door slammed in his face. So much for first impressions; his mother would not be pleased.
“I’m an idiot,” Jinki groaned to himself, falling backwards on the bed and causing his suitcase and bag to tumble into a messy pile on the floor. The suitcase’s latch came unhooked and his clothes spilled onto the floor, but Jinki was too busy bemoaning his idiocy to care much. “A big, giant, stupid jerk of an idiot.”
“I agree, now get the hell off my bed.”
Jinki shrieked and joined his things in the floor, eyes wide and searching for the owner of the voice between the spread fingers he held over his face.
“Over here, dipshit,” the voice grumbled and Jinki caught a faint silhouette lingering by the window through the cracks of his fingers. “Who are you and why are you in my room?”
“I’m Jinki, and. And Jonghyun, he, he said that this was my room,” Jinki clenched his eyes shut, and tried to remember if he had followed Jonghyun’s directions correctly. “The room on the right? I, I think this is it.”
“Yeah, and it’s my room,” the boy said clearly unenthused, arms crossed over his stomach and eyes narrowed to a certain degree. Jinki refused to call it a glare, settling on the fact that maybe the sun was in the boy’s eyes; unlikely at best, but it helped ease his heart from the rapid pounding it was doing earlier.
The boy stepped away from the window, coming into the light and letting the white glow of the room wash over him. Slender frame, dark hair, even darker eyes, with a tiny scowl spread over his full lips. Jinki blinked to make sure he was really seeing this boy because he swore that Jonghyun only asked for one temporary tenant in his ad the month previous.
“I’m sorry,” Jinki said with his head lowered to the floor, scrambling to gather his things, “I didn’t know that you were living here as well. Jonghyun said that it was just him since his friend - the other tenant, Kibum or whatever - was in a really bad wreck and he couldn’t pay the rent by himself, so I answered the ad and here I am.” He paused to catch his breath, and when it looked like he was about to speak again, the other man cut him off.
“Wreck? I wasn’t in a wreck.” Jinki wasn’t listening, though, and Kibum was saying it more to himself anyway. He reached his hand out to the items on his desk, but his hand slipped through the items as if nothing was really there. “What the fuck?”
“Ghost,” Jinki sputtered from his seat on the floor, eyes stretched to comical extents and his mouth parted just so in fascination. He made to touch Kibum, connecting to a jean clad knee, but Kibum jerked away quickly as if burned. Jinki frowned, perplexed. “Not a ghost then… maybe your spirit was thrown out of your body during the crash…?”
Kibum grimaced, raking a hand through his short brown bangs, and mumbled, “shut up,” as he crossed the room in a few steady strides. Jinki slid himself further into the bed to avoid being hit by the raging spirit, and watched as Kibum tried the door a few times before huffing and stomping through the barrier.
“…wow.”
Jinki tried, failingly, to stay out of Kibum’s way for the most part; it was hard because it seemed that Kibum was always present wherever he was, casting disapproving glances in his direction every time his foot caught in the rumpled rug at the entrance to the apartment.
And as much as Kibum liked to ignore Jinki, he was not too fond of being on the receiving end of the treatment. He made himself known at all times, and Jinki grinned, secretly of course, because he knew he had a particularly charming affect on everyone.
“Who are you talking to?” Kibum asked him from somewhere in the living room, science fiction movie playing loudly in the background. He craned his neck back to peer into the kitchenette, but all he could make out of his most recent headache was fuzzy blue house-slippers tapering up to a purple pant clad leg.
Jinki smiled brightly from his perch on the kitchen counter. “Ghostbusters,” he sang loudly and he could vaguely feel Minho wince from the other line. To Minho he said: “It’s the spirit of the owner of the room I stole. You know, the one I was telling you about.”
“Jinki,” he said, exasperated, “maybe going to Seoul wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
Jinki frowned and picked at the lint on the hem of his t-shirt. He glanced up and Kibum had suddenly materialized in front of him, annoyed judging by the way his mouth curved down and his eyebrows furrowed. Jinki placed the rounded ends of his slippers to Kibum’s knee, pushing lightly, oblivious, and smiled cheekily. “What makes you say that?”
“You think you’re talking to ghosts.” Jinki detected a sigh in Minho’s words, that long-suffering sigh of his. “That’s not normal, even for you.”
“Wh, what?” Jinki sputtered, dropping the phone into his lap and kicking off one worn-out slipper. He fumbled with the cell and said, “I’m not lying, he’s here!-… Kibum, tell him I’m not lying.” He flailed to gain the spirit’s attention, tumbling off the counter, and called out again; Kibum rolled his eyes and headed for the exit. “N, no! Stop ignoring me - don’t you dare go through that wall…- Kibum!” The other disappeared and Jinki was left, defeated, at the entryway of the kitchenette. “I guess he doesn’t like talking to strangers… Minho? Minho! Hey -”
All he got in response was the click, beep beep beep of the dial tone.
Days progressed in the same manner; Jinki would try to befriend his ghostly acquaintance, singing show tunes and acting cute, but Kibum would brush him off, trailing Jonghyun throughout the house or moping by the window.
Minho came to visit once during his vacation, throwing cautious glances around the apartment, afraid that Jinki’s ghost was real. But he’d quickly disregard the notion as Jinki acted like himself and made no more mention of the spirit lurking in the house.
“You seem to be doing well,” he said at the end of his stay, momentarily sweeping his gaze toward Jonghyun’s prone figure, snoring on the couch. He flicked his brown eyes back to his friend who rocked nervously on his feet, as if he was scared of saying the wrong thing. Minho sighed. “Visit us sometime, okay.”
Jinki looked to his feet; his big toe visible through the hole in his slippers, the fuzzy remains a faded blue. He managed a smile to send Minho off with. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
After Minho left, Kibum watched the despondent expression on Jinki’s face grow, clearly missing his hometown but wanting to prove himself to them here in the city. He remained silent, perched beside Jinki on the edge of his old bed, and let their fingers touch slightly at the ends.
Kibum stayed the rest of the day with Jinki, and every day after that.
After a day or two passed, Jinki was back to being himself, complete with his min-flails and his dumb jokes that Jonghyun would politely smile through on his good days. Kibum was more tolerant of him, sometimes sharing the bed even though he couldn’t sleep on it anymore; Jinki didn’t say anything though, he was just thankful that he didn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore.
He paced around the living space for a few minutes before stopping by the door, sending what he hoped were subtle glances Kibum’s way. The ghost remained by the window, though, not sparing him even a brief glance, as he waited for Jonghyun to come back from his job downtown.
Jinki huffed, and he could see Kibum roll his eyes through the reflection of the window. “What, Jinki?”
“I’m going out today.” Silence. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going?”
Kibum turned to him, amusement in his eyes for a split second before the boredom returned; Jinki’s good mood dampened. “I honestly don’t give a fuck where you’re going.”
Jinki grinned, wide and with all his teeth; Kibum wouldn’t admit it, but it was kind of endearing, in a creepy way, “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone,” he winked for added affect, coming out like a twitch instead.
“Just… go.”
He turned back to the window before Jinki could see his smile; Jinki saw it anyway.
“I knew it!” His outburst startled the bustling crowd pushing passed him, but he remained at his standstill, a hint of pride in his posture as he twirled around suddenly to see Kibum staring right back at him. Jinki cast his eyes about for a moment before curling his lips into a victorious grin. “You,” he pointed at Kibum, “can’t get enough of me.”
Kibum scowled prettily. “I needed to leave the apartment, that’s all.”
Jinki waved off the excuse as Kibum sent furtive glances at the passersby, hoping they didn’t think he was with the strange male before him. On the offhand chance that they could see him, of course.
“You do like me after all, don’t you?”
Kibum’s eyes widened considerably larger before narrowing, swatting Jinki’s hands, as he hissed, “Shut up, you look like a complete idiot talking to yourself.”
“Admit that you’ve been following me because you can’t resist my charm.”
Kibum held Jinki’s hands to his sides, still shifting awkwardly in hopes that no one noticed the pathetic boy in their midst. “Fine, fine, whatever.” He felt Jinki smile by his ear, the contact soft and shocking. He immediately pulled away and shoved his hands in his pockets to ease away the feeling.
“It happens all the time,” Jinki said with his eyes closed, corners of his lips still uplifted, and Kibum bit his bottom lip. He looked lost and lonely, as if the whole of Seoul would swallow him at any moment and no one would think to care. “Besides, it gets kind of lonely out here like this.”
Kibum remained silent for a few stinted seconds before tugging on Jinki’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go back home. It’s going to rain.”
The sky strung with heavy rain clouds and a dash of baby blue somewhere between, he smiled at Kibum, falling in stride with him close enough that their knuckles brushed in the softest of ways. There was that fizz of electricity again, static shooting through his hands and he could feel a jolt in his chest. But he had little time to think as the rain began to fall.
“I’m sorry,” Jinki murmured with his head bowed down, rainwater falling off his clumpy brown locks and creating tiny puddles on the sidewalk. Kibum turned to him, questioning eyebrow raised but he did not speak, so Jinki continued, “I’m making you stand in the rain.” He took his hand and cupped it over Kibum’s head, trying his best to shield him from the rain that passed right through him anyway, as if he were human.
Jinki smiled that dorky smile, the one where his teeth don’t show completely but they are peering behind the curve of his lips; the smile that Kibum admitted to thinking was nice, but only to himself. Kibum averted his gaze to the dark gray of the cement, clasping gently around a petite wrist, bringing it down to their sides.
“I like the rain,” he supplied as his only reason for staying and turned back to the traffic, peaking at Jinki’s drenched form from the corner of his eyes. Blue tee stuck to his form like another layer of skin, and pants drooping at the waist from the added weight of the water. His shoes squeaked and squelched alongside the pitter-patter of the rain, but Kibum found himself not minding at all.
Jinki was never known for his brilliance in deductive reasoning, but he knew a great deal more than anyone thought. One thing he knew for certain was that Kibum only ever really smiled when Jonghyun was around - or, you know, the rare moments when Jinki actually said something funny or made a fool of himself.
When they were in the apartment, sometimes late at night when Jinki tried to get some sleep, he would hear Kibum slip through the barrier between his and Jonghyun’s room. And he would talk to him like a friend, like someone that cared. Jinki would close his eyes and try to ignore the way Kibum sounded so lonely, but sleep would never come until he knew Kibum was back in his room, mind once again at ease.
“You, you are in love with him, aren’t you?”
Kibum startled by the window, gaze on the fuzzy blue lights that seemed like tiny dots from the apartment’s view. He kept quite for a moment before responding, “What are you talking about?”
“Jonghyun,” he said with a shrug, smiling just the same as he always did when a situation grew uncomfortable for him. He flopped backwards on the bed, counted the cracks in the ceiling tiles which he’d done days before and mentioned to Kibum. “You,” he took a breath and released it with a sigh, “you’re in love with him and you’re not admitting it.”
“I’m not. He’s my best friend,” Kibum answered monotonously. He turned back to the traffic lights whirring by in a Technicolor blur. “And even if I was in love with him, it wouldn’t matter. I’m still not… human.”
Jinki paused, spreading his arms out wide across the bedspread, thoughtful. “Maybe it works like the movies. You get them to tell you they love you back, and then, then you’re you again.”
“That’s dumb,” he deadpanned but there was a smile on his face, Jinki could tell just by the way his tone was lighter than usual.
“It’s worth a try, and if it works,” he paused, sleepy even though it was barely passed nine in the afternoon. Then he squinted at the shadowy figure facing him at the window, “I, I think that I’d like to meet you sometime, and get to know you,” he chuckled sheepishly, running a hand through his messy brown tresses. “In person, that is.”
Kibum nodded with the streetlights passing right through him, and Jinki thought that he’d like to keep them this way for just a while longer.
Jinki noticed after a week that Kibum had begun to fade, his body wavering to and fro. It scared him.
Kibum shrugged the matter off, telling him not to worry.
“Jonghyun, it’s Kibum!”
Jonghyun stumbled from his place on the sofa, sock clad feet sliding from underneath him and hands flying everywhere. Jinki stood at the doorway, out of breath with panicked eyes, as he tried to speak between the rush of air that his lungs tried to even out in his chest.
“There’s something wrong,” he said frantically, tugging on Jonghyun’s hands and helping him gather his jacket. Jonghyun struggled to tie the laces of his shoes, tripping into them and over the rug at the entryway, Jinki pulling at him with desperate hands. “The doctors said he might not make it, and,” Jinki turned his back to Jonghyun, punching the button for the elevator and rocking on his heels nervously, “I thought that if anyone could help, it’d be you.”
Jonghyun remained quiet, hesitant to enter the elevator with Jinki, and why did he care so much? Jinki had nothing to with this, but he was so worried and Jonghyun could not just shrug it off as him being just a friendly stranger sympathizing with this situation.
“I can’t help him.”
Jinki huffed, frustrated, and tugged Jonghyun inside with all his might, crying, “Yes, you can! You have to tell him that you love him and everything will be okay,” he blinked back the tears in his eyes, confused as to why he was making this such a big deal. With Kibum gone, he wouldn’t have to go back home and face his parents, hear their I told you so’s; the apartment would be his just as much as it was Kibum’s. He gripped the necklace lingering over his clavicle. “Everything will be okay, just tell him you love him.”
“Life doesn’t work that way, Jinki,” Jonghyun said simply, dark and cold. He slid Jinki’s hand from over his wrist and let it fall back to his side. “Love doesn’t work like that.”
“If you won’t do it to save him,” Jinki stated, determination on the tip of his tongue and fear in his eyes, “then at least let him hear you one time before he goes.”
Jonghyun told him, in the hospital, that he wasn’t sure if he did love Kibum, as anything more than his best friend or brother. But he held Kibum’s cold hand in his own, watched the heart monitor skitter and slow, and Jonghyun’s crying made Jinki fidget in the doorway, one foot in the room and the other in the waiting area.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Kibum said, body mostly transparent and eyes drawn in a sad sort of way. Jinki didn’t like this expression, not on Kibum. “It was nice meeting you, given the shitty circumstances.”
Jinki bit his bottom lip, wanting to tell him not to lose hope and that this would work. But Jonghyun was crying, not confessing anything that could possibly save Kibum’s life, and he could hear him so loud in his ears; Jinki dropped his gaze to Kibum’s disappearing hand and reached for them one last time -
“You’re my best friend, Kibum,”
- and held on.
Jinki’s heart stopped just as Kibum’s monitor flat-lined. Jonghyun never professed the love that Jinki was so sure that they both felt, and Jinki couldn’t feel Kibum’s hand in his anymore. He had let go.
“You’re leaving?”
Jinki slowed in his movements, flicked his gaze to Kibum, alive and in person, exactly how Jinki had wanted to meet him. He fingered the picture frame before placing it gently in the cardboard box he stole from the storage closet downstairs; well, not really stole, he left money in turn.
“Yeah,” he said with a bright grin, forced but not like this Kibum would recognize it any differently. They were strangers now, and Kibum remembered nothing of the time he was a ghost. No need to hold on any longer. “It’s really not big enough for the three of us.”
“Jonghyun said you can stay,” he looked upset, dark eyes wavering with uncertainty, and he was frowning. “Something about needing to repay you.”
Jinki waved him off. “He doesn’t owe me anything, and it’s best if I go back home. I think I proved myself capable of living on my own.”
He picked up his bags and took hold of the handle on his suitcase, treading carefully out of the room and past Kibum’s entirely human body. Jonghyun was out again, busy with work, and Kibum was still restricted to the confines of the apartment, doctor’s order and all; he wasn’t too happy about that and Jinki grinned at the familiarity it brought between them.
“Jinki.” Said man stopped but did not turn around; Kibum sighed, and he could tell he was shifting weight from foot to foot in the doorway. But when he said no more, Jinki continued to the front door, stumbling over the rumpled rug still misplaced in the doorway. “You always do that, you know,” he motioned to the rug’s messy folds, “trip over that ugly thing.”
“How?”
Jinki turned, confused and surprised that Kibum remembered. “You said you wanted to get to know me, and I think I’d like to get to know you, too.” He started smiling at Jinki, awkwardly as if afraid of what he would think. “You can’t just leave now, you know. Not when I,” he averted his gaze and stuffed his hands in his pockets, debating over what to say. “Not when I want you to stay.”
Jinki’s bags hit the floor and his arms were around Kibum in a few quick strides across the room.
He stayed the rest of the day with Kibum, and every day after that.
Pairing: onew/key (jinki/kibum)
Rating: pg-13
Summary: “You’re talking to ghosts, Jinki; that’s not normal, even for you.” in which kibum isn’t willing to move on, and jinki can’t find his peace of mind.
Song used for inspiration: moby - “shot in the back of the head”
“You must be Lee Jinki.”
Said man nodded, slowly, mostly in fear of the blonde before him and partly because he’d forgotten his mother’s rules on manners and how to make first impressions. He decided to offer his hand and his best smile; it usually worked in situations like these, even when both friendly devices shook in the tenant’s proximity.
“Kim Jonghyun,” the blonde introduced, ignoring the hand but smiling anyway. He gestured to the expanse of brightly covered walls and floors behind him. “It’s a typical two bedroom, one bath apartment, complete with a kitchenette to the left, a closet that houses the previous tenant’s shoes and accessories, a living room here and, well, that’s it. Any questions?”
Jinki shook his head, gripped tighter on the strap of his messenger bag, and, remembering some of his upbringing, said, “I’m sorry for your loss.” Jonghyun’s face scrunched up in confusion, and Jinki continued, flailing, probably putting his foot in his mouth as per usual, “Losing your best friend like that, it must be hard -”
“What the hell are you talking about? Kibum’s not dead, dumbass.”
Jinki’s entire expression deflated while Jonghyun’s darkened. “But I, I thought that he… the lady said that he was killed in a car accident!”
There was a brief moment of silence. Jinki shuffled his feet and kept his gaze on the ground. “Kibum’s comatose, that’s all.” He heard Jonghyun sigh. “Your room is down the hall to the right.” He laced up his sneakers at the doorway, pausing only to give Jinki further instructions. “Stay out of my room and keep out of Kibum’s things. Otherwise, make yourself comfortable.”
Just as Jinki was about to ask where the other was going the door slammed in his face. So much for first impressions; his mother would not be pleased.
“I’m an idiot,” Jinki groaned to himself, falling backwards on the bed and causing his suitcase and bag to tumble into a messy pile on the floor. The suitcase’s latch came unhooked and his clothes spilled onto the floor, but Jinki was too busy bemoaning his idiocy to care much. “A big, giant, stupid jerk of an idiot.”
“I agree, now get the hell off my bed.”
Jinki shrieked and joined his things in the floor, eyes wide and searching for the owner of the voice between the spread fingers he held over his face.
“Over here, dipshit,” the voice grumbled and Jinki caught a faint silhouette lingering by the window through the cracks of his fingers. “Who are you and why are you in my room?”
“I’m Jinki, and. And Jonghyun, he, he said that this was my room,” Jinki clenched his eyes shut, and tried to remember if he had followed Jonghyun’s directions correctly. “The room on the right? I, I think this is it.”
“Yeah, and it’s my room,” the boy said clearly unenthused, arms crossed over his stomach and eyes narrowed to a certain degree. Jinki refused to call it a glare, settling on the fact that maybe the sun was in the boy’s eyes; unlikely at best, but it helped ease his heart from the rapid pounding it was doing earlier.
The boy stepped away from the window, coming into the light and letting the white glow of the room wash over him. Slender frame, dark hair, even darker eyes, with a tiny scowl spread over his full lips. Jinki blinked to make sure he was really seeing this boy because he swore that Jonghyun only asked for one temporary tenant in his ad the month previous.
“I’m sorry,” Jinki said with his head lowered to the floor, scrambling to gather his things, “I didn’t know that you were living here as well. Jonghyun said that it was just him since his friend - the other tenant, Kibum or whatever - was in a really bad wreck and he couldn’t pay the rent by himself, so I answered the ad and here I am.” He paused to catch his breath, and when it looked like he was about to speak again, the other man cut him off.
“Wreck? I wasn’t in a wreck.” Jinki wasn’t listening, though, and Kibum was saying it more to himself anyway. He reached his hand out to the items on his desk, but his hand slipped through the items as if nothing was really there. “What the fuck?”
“Ghost,” Jinki sputtered from his seat on the floor, eyes stretched to comical extents and his mouth parted just so in fascination. He made to touch Kibum, connecting to a jean clad knee, but Kibum jerked away quickly as if burned. Jinki frowned, perplexed. “Not a ghost then… maybe your spirit was thrown out of your body during the crash…?”
Kibum grimaced, raking a hand through his short brown bangs, and mumbled, “shut up,” as he crossed the room in a few steady strides. Jinki slid himself further into the bed to avoid being hit by the raging spirit, and watched as Kibum tried the door a few times before huffing and stomping through the barrier.
“…wow.”
Jinki tried, failingly, to stay out of Kibum’s way for the most part; it was hard because it seemed that Kibum was always present wherever he was, casting disapproving glances in his direction every time his foot caught in the rumpled rug at the entrance to the apartment.
And as much as Kibum liked to ignore Jinki, he was not too fond of being on the receiving end of the treatment. He made himself known at all times, and Jinki grinned, secretly of course, because he knew he had a particularly charming affect on everyone.
“Who are you talking to?” Kibum asked him from somewhere in the living room, science fiction movie playing loudly in the background. He craned his neck back to peer into the kitchenette, but all he could make out of his most recent headache was fuzzy blue house-slippers tapering up to a purple pant clad leg.
Jinki smiled brightly from his perch on the kitchen counter. “Ghostbusters,” he sang loudly and he could vaguely feel Minho wince from the other line. To Minho he said: “It’s the spirit of the owner of the room I stole. You know, the one I was telling you about.”
“Jinki,” he said, exasperated, “maybe going to Seoul wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
Jinki frowned and picked at the lint on the hem of his t-shirt. He glanced up and Kibum had suddenly materialized in front of him, annoyed judging by the way his mouth curved down and his eyebrows furrowed. Jinki placed the rounded ends of his slippers to Kibum’s knee, pushing lightly, oblivious, and smiled cheekily. “What makes you say that?”
“You think you’re talking to ghosts.” Jinki detected a sigh in Minho’s words, that long-suffering sigh of his. “That’s not normal, even for you.”
“Wh, what?” Jinki sputtered, dropping the phone into his lap and kicking off one worn-out slipper. He fumbled with the cell and said, “I’m not lying, he’s here!-… Kibum, tell him I’m not lying.” He flailed to gain the spirit’s attention, tumbling off the counter, and called out again; Kibum rolled his eyes and headed for the exit. “N, no! Stop ignoring me - don’t you dare go through that wall…- Kibum!” The other disappeared and Jinki was left, defeated, at the entryway of the kitchenette. “I guess he doesn’t like talking to strangers… Minho? Minho! Hey -”
All he got in response was the click, beep beep beep of the dial tone.
Days progressed in the same manner; Jinki would try to befriend his ghostly acquaintance, singing show tunes and acting cute, but Kibum would brush him off, trailing Jonghyun throughout the house or moping by the window.
Minho came to visit once during his vacation, throwing cautious glances around the apartment, afraid that Jinki’s ghost was real. But he’d quickly disregard the notion as Jinki acted like himself and made no more mention of the spirit lurking in the house.
“You seem to be doing well,” he said at the end of his stay, momentarily sweeping his gaze toward Jonghyun’s prone figure, snoring on the couch. He flicked his brown eyes back to his friend who rocked nervously on his feet, as if he was scared of saying the wrong thing. Minho sighed. “Visit us sometime, okay.”
Jinki looked to his feet; his big toe visible through the hole in his slippers, the fuzzy remains a faded blue. He managed a smile to send Minho off with. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
After Minho left, Kibum watched the despondent expression on Jinki’s face grow, clearly missing his hometown but wanting to prove himself to them here in the city. He remained silent, perched beside Jinki on the edge of his old bed, and let their fingers touch slightly at the ends.
Kibum stayed the rest of the day with Jinki, and every day after that.
After a day or two passed, Jinki was back to being himself, complete with his min-flails and his dumb jokes that Jonghyun would politely smile through on his good days. Kibum was more tolerant of him, sometimes sharing the bed even though he couldn’t sleep on it anymore; Jinki didn’t say anything though, he was just thankful that he didn’t have to sleep on the floor anymore.
He paced around the living space for a few minutes before stopping by the door, sending what he hoped were subtle glances Kibum’s way. The ghost remained by the window, though, not sparing him even a brief glance, as he waited for Jonghyun to come back from his job downtown.
Jinki huffed, and he could see Kibum roll his eyes through the reflection of the window. “What, Jinki?”
“I’m going out today.” Silence. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I’m going?”
Kibum turned to him, amusement in his eyes for a split second before the boredom returned; Jinki’s good mood dampened. “I honestly don’t give a fuck where you’re going.”
Jinki grinned, wide and with all his teeth; Kibum wouldn’t admit it, but it was kind of endearing, in a creepy way, “Don’t miss me too much while I’m gone,” he winked for added affect, coming out like a twitch instead.
“Just… go.”
He turned back to the window before Jinki could see his smile; Jinki saw it anyway.
“I knew it!” His outburst startled the bustling crowd pushing passed him, but he remained at his standstill, a hint of pride in his posture as he twirled around suddenly to see Kibum staring right back at him. Jinki cast his eyes about for a moment before curling his lips into a victorious grin. “You,” he pointed at Kibum, “can’t get enough of me.”
Kibum scowled prettily. “I needed to leave the apartment, that’s all.”
Jinki waved off the excuse as Kibum sent furtive glances at the passersby, hoping they didn’t think he was with the strange male before him. On the offhand chance that they could see him, of course.
“You do like me after all, don’t you?”
Kibum’s eyes widened considerably larger before narrowing, swatting Jinki’s hands, as he hissed, “Shut up, you look like a complete idiot talking to yourself.”
“Admit that you’ve been following me because you can’t resist my charm.”
Kibum held Jinki’s hands to his sides, still shifting awkwardly in hopes that no one noticed the pathetic boy in their midst. “Fine, fine, whatever.” He felt Jinki smile by his ear, the contact soft and shocking. He immediately pulled away and shoved his hands in his pockets to ease away the feeling.
“It happens all the time,” Jinki said with his eyes closed, corners of his lips still uplifted, and Kibum bit his bottom lip. He looked lost and lonely, as if the whole of Seoul would swallow him at any moment and no one would think to care. “Besides, it gets kind of lonely out here like this.”
Kibum remained silent for a few stinted seconds before tugging on Jinki’s sleeve. “Come on, let’s go back home. It’s going to rain.”
The sky strung with heavy rain clouds and a dash of baby blue somewhere between, he smiled at Kibum, falling in stride with him close enough that their knuckles brushed in the softest of ways. There was that fizz of electricity again, static shooting through his hands and he could feel a jolt in his chest. But he had little time to think as the rain began to fall.
“I’m sorry,” Jinki murmured with his head bowed down, rainwater falling off his clumpy brown locks and creating tiny puddles on the sidewalk. Kibum turned to him, questioning eyebrow raised but he did not speak, so Jinki continued, “I’m making you stand in the rain.” He took his hand and cupped it over Kibum’s head, trying his best to shield him from the rain that passed right through him anyway, as if he were human.
Jinki smiled that dorky smile, the one where his teeth don’t show completely but they are peering behind the curve of his lips; the smile that Kibum admitted to thinking was nice, but only to himself. Kibum averted his gaze to the dark gray of the cement, clasping gently around a petite wrist, bringing it down to their sides.
“I like the rain,” he supplied as his only reason for staying and turned back to the traffic, peaking at Jinki’s drenched form from the corner of his eyes. Blue tee stuck to his form like another layer of skin, and pants drooping at the waist from the added weight of the water. His shoes squeaked and squelched alongside the pitter-patter of the rain, but Kibum found himself not minding at all.
Jinki was never known for his brilliance in deductive reasoning, but he knew a great deal more than anyone thought. One thing he knew for certain was that Kibum only ever really smiled when Jonghyun was around - or, you know, the rare moments when Jinki actually said something funny or made a fool of himself.
When they were in the apartment, sometimes late at night when Jinki tried to get some sleep, he would hear Kibum slip through the barrier between his and Jonghyun’s room. And he would talk to him like a friend, like someone that cared. Jinki would close his eyes and try to ignore the way Kibum sounded so lonely, but sleep would never come until he knew Kibum was back in his room, mind once again at ease.
“You, you are in love with him, aren’t you?”
Kibum startled by the window, gaze on the fuzzy blue lights that seemed like tiny dots from the apartment’s view. He kept quite for a moment before responding, “What are you talking about?”
“Jonghyun,” he said with a shrug, smiling just the same as he always did when a situation grew uncomfortable for him. He flopped backwards on the bed, counted the cracks in the ceiling tiles which he’d done days before and mentioned to Kibum. “You,” he took a breath and released it with a sigh, “you’re in love with him and you’re not admitting it.”
“I’m not. He’s my best friend,” Kibum answered monotonously. He turned back to the traffic lights whirring by in a Technicolor blur. “And even if I was in love with him, it wouldn’t matter. I’m still not… human.”
Jinki paused, spreading his arms out wide across the bedspread, thoughtful. “Maybe it works like the movies. You get them to tell you they love you back, and then, then you’re you again.”
“That’s dumb,” he deadpanned but there was a smile on his face, Jinki could tell just by the way his tone was lighter than usual.
“It’s worth a try, and if it works,” he paused, sleepy even though it was barely passed nine in the afternoon. Then he squinted at the shadowy figure facing him at the window, “I, I think that I’d like to meet you sometime, and get to know you,” he chuckled sheepishly, running a hand through his messy brown tresses. “In person, that is.”
Kibum nodded with the streetlights passing right through him, and Jinki thought that he’d like to keep them this way for just a while longer.
Jinki noticed after a week that Kibum had begun to fade, his body wavering to and fro. It scared him.
Kibum shrugged the matter off, telling him not to worry.
“Jonghyun, it’s Kibum!”
Jonghyun stumbled from his place on the sofa, sock clad feet sliding from underneath him and hands flying everywhere. Jinki stood at the doorway, out of breath with panicked eyes, as he tried to speak between the rush of air that his lungs tried to even out in his chest.
“There’s something wrong,” he said frantically, tugging on Jonghyun’s hands and helping him gather his jacket. Jonghyun struggled to tie the laces of his shoes, tripping into them and over the rug at the entryway, Jinki pulling at him with desperate hands. “The doctors said he might not make it, and,” Jinki turned his back to Jonghyun, punching the button for the elevator and rocking on his heels nervously, “I thought that if anyone could help, it’d be you.”
Jonghyun remained quiet, hesitant to enter the elevator with Jinki, and why did he care so much? Jinki had nothing to with this, but he was so worried and Jonghyun could not just shrug it off as him being just a friendly stranger sympathizing with this situation.
“I can’t help him.”
Jinki huffed, frustrated, and tugged Jonghyun inside with all his might, crying, “Yes, you can! You have to tell him that you love him and everything will be okay,” he blinked back the tears in his eyes, confused as to why he was making this such a big deal. With Kibum gone, he wouldn’t have to go back home and face his parents, hear their I told you so’s; the apartment would be his just as much as it was Kibum’s. He gripped the necklace lingering over his clavicle. “Everything will be okay, just tell him you love him.”
“Life doesn’t work that way, Jinki,” Jonghyun said simply, dark and cold. He slid Jinki’s hand from over his wrist and let it fall back to his side. “Love doesn’t work like that.”
“If you won’t do it to save him,” Jinki stated, determination on the tip of his tongue and fear in his eyes, “then at least let him hear you one time before he goes.”
Jonghyun told him, in the hospital, that he wasn’t sure if he did love Kibum, as anything more than his best friend or brother. But he held Kibum’s cold hand in his own, watched the heart monitor skitter and slow, and Jonghyun’s crying made Jinki fidget in the doorway, one foot in the room and the other in the waiting area.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Kibum said, body mostly transparent and eyes drawn in a sad sort of way. Jinki didn’t like this expression, not on Kibum. “It was nice meeting you, given the shitty circumstances.”
Jinki bit his bottom lip, wanting to tell him not to lose hope and that this would work. But Jonghyun was crying, not confessing anything that could possibly save Kibum’s life, and he could hear him so loud in his ears; Jinki dropped his gaze to Kibum’s disappearing hand and reached for them one last time -
“You’re my best friend, Kibum,”
- and held on.
Jinki’s heart stopped just as Kibum’s monitor flat-lined. Jonghyun never professed the love that Jinki was so sure that they both felt, and Jinki couldn’t feel Kibum’s hand in his anymore. He had let go.
“You’re leaving?”
Jinki slowed in his movements, flicked his gaze to Kibum, alive and in person, exactly how Jinki had wanted to meet him. He fingered the picture frame before placing it gently in the cardboard box he stole from the storage closet downstairs; well, not really stole, he left money in turn.
“Yeah,” he said with a bright grin, forced but not like this Kibum would recognize it any differently. They were strangers now, and Kibum remembered nothing of the time he was a ghost. No need to hold on any longer. “It’s really not big enough for the three of us.”
“Jonghyun said you can stay,” he looked upset, dark eyes wavering with uncertainty, and he was frowning. “Something about needing to repay you.”
Jinki waved him off. “He doesn’t owe me anything, and it’s best if I go back home. I think I proved myself capable of living on my own.”
He picked up his bags and took hold of the handle on his suitcase, treading carefully out of the room and past Kibum’s entirely human body. Jonghyun was out again, busy with work, and Kibum was still restricted to the confines of the apartment, doctor’s order and all; he wasn’t too happy about that and Jinki grinned at the familiarity it brought between them.
“Jinki.” Said man stopped but did not turn around; Kibum sighed, and he could tell he was shifting weight from foot to foot in the doorway. But when he said no more, Jinki continued to the front door, stumbling over the rumpled rug still misplaced in the doorway. “You always do that, you know,” he motioned to the rug’s messy folds, “trip over that ugly thing.”
“How?”
Jinki turned, confused and surprised that Kibum remembered. “You said you wanted to get to know me, and I think I’d like to get to know you, too.” He started smiling at Jinki, awkwardly as if afraid of what he would think. “You can’t just leave now, you know. Not when I,” he averted his gaze and stuffed his hands in his pockets, debating over what to say. “Not when I want you to stay.”
Jinki’s bags hit the floor and his arms were around Kibum in a few quick strides across the room.
He stayed the rest of the day with Kibum, and every day after that.