Drabble 2/5, kyumin, for: fanmin
Drabble for fanmin, as part of a drabble meme.
Sometimes, you think to yourself, things could have been different.
Maybe you’d taken him for granted, because you’d known-no, thought-he’d always be there. That was what he’d said when you’d first met, hadn’t he?-“I don’t want you to leave my side, Kyuhyun. I promise not to give you a reason to.”
Maybe you’d taken his attached behavior for granted. Maybe you should have given it more thought, the way he’d sometimes look at you shyly, the numerous times he’d meant to tell you something but always told you to forget it.
Maybe things would have been different if you’d forced him to spill his heart’s contents to you. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so sudden; maybe the suffering wouldn’t have been so painful to watch; maybe satisfaction and happiness would’ve been his last lingering memory.
And you hadn’t asked him, because you’d known-thought?-he’d been fine. That was what he’d said every time you’d asked in passing, hadn’t it?-“I’m fine, Kyuhyun, don’t worry about me. It’s nothing really worth interrupting you for.”
Maybe things would have been different if you’d realized he hadn’t been fine, that he’d been meaning to tell you that he was expected to die, that he didn’t and couldn’t because he didn’t want to burden you.
“Why the hell would you even think something like that?” you’d asked him in disbelief, twice, once to his face and once to his tombstone.
Both times, Sungmin had not given you a response.
Sometimes, you think to yourself, things could have been different. Between instigating further and trusting his word, perhaps that choice had been wrong.
But though you don’t want to believe it, you remind yourself that though the choice had been wrong, the choosing had not been, because anyone would have chosen to listen to someone they trusted they knew well, because trust had been blinding.
You didn’t even figure out the cause for Sungmin’s death until a day before the funeral, because you’d been in too much shock to even ask. But even if you had never found out, there was nothing you could’ve done.
There’s nothing you can do now, either.
Sometimes, you think to yourself, things could have been different.
Other times, you think Sungmin spends his nights in your bed, sighing apologetically, and urging you to move on.
You don’t really question whether it’s really him or not.
Sungmin or not, he’s right.
You have to move on.
END
Sometimes, you think to yourself, things could have been different.
Maybe you’d taken him for granted, because you’d known-no, thought-he’d always be there. That was what he’d said when you’d first met, hadn’t he?-“I don’t want you to leave my side, Kyuhyun. I promise not to give you a reason to.”
Maybe you’d taken his attached behavior for granted. Maybe you should have given it more thought, the way he’d sometimes look at you shyly, the numerous times he’d meant to tell you something but always told you to forget it.
Maybe things would have been different if you’d forced him to spill his heart’s contents to you. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so sudden; maybe the suffering wouldn’t have been so painful to watch; maybe satisfaction and happiness would’ve been his last lingering memory.
And you hadn’t asked him, because you’d known-thought?-he’d been fine. That was what he’d said every time you’d asked in passing, hadn’t it?-“I’m fine, Kyuhyun, don’t worry about me. It’s nothing really worth interrupting you for.”
Maybe things would have been different if you’d realized he hadn’t been fine, that he’d been meaning to tell you that he was expected to die, that he didn’t and couldn’t because he didn’t want to burden you.
“Why the hell would you even think something like that?” you’d asked him in disbelief, twice, once to his face and once to his tombstone.
Both times, Sungmin had not given you a response.
Sometimes, you think to yourself, things could have been different. Between instigating further and trusting his word, perhaps that choice had been wrong.
But though you don’t want to believe it, you remind yourself that though the choice had been wrong, the choosing had not been, because anyone would have chosen to listen to someone they trusted they knew well, because trust had been blinding.
You didn’t even figure out the cause for Sungmin’s death until a day before the funeral, because you’d been in too much shock to even ask. But even if you had never found out, there was nothing you could’ve done.
There’s nothing you can do now, either.
Sometimes, you think to yourself, things could have been different.
Other times, you think Sungmin spends his nights in your bed, sighing apologetically, and urging you to move on.
You don’t really question whether it’s really him or not.
Sungmin or not, he’s right.
You have to move on.
END