Footsteps [One-shot]
Title: Footsteps
Pairing: EunHae
Rating: R
Genre: Horror, Romance
Disclaimer: Eunhyuk and Donghae are each other's property.
Summary: Love knows no boundaries.
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DISTURBING THEMES. 'Nuff said.
Notes: I wanted to write a combination of horror and smut, but I guess I'll have to save that for later, LOL. I wanted something with more, err, substance. >:]
Oh hello. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you these days?
Indeed, our last conversation was cut short. Pity, really. What’s that last question you had?
Ah, yes.
Well he’s not here right now, actually. If you go back with me a month prior, though, you’ll catch him unlocking the front door and coming home to me just as he does without fail the same time everyday. He owns a recording studio in the city downtown area, small but most definitely one of the best, and to it he devotes some fifty hours a week in hopes that it would gain a good reputation and develop faster. The wannabe artists who enter that whitewashed building he had bought a year ago come out either dying of excitement or near suicidal in disappointment (he kills them no matter what), and believe me when I say that the former group is the cream of the crop-he is extremely picky and sensitive when it comes to music, so naturally, he takes but a handful under his wing.
Haha, I’m sorry. It keeps slipping my mind. My lover’s name is Donghae.
I remember meeting him in college. Because he and I are Music and Dance majors respectively, our buildings are right next to each other, so close in proximity that if they had been people the smallest of movements would cause one to nudge the other’s side. Our dorms, though, are a different story because there is but one inside the campus and, as fate or a faulty school computer system would have it, we end up living in the same wing for four years.
Freshman year is all hi’s and hello’s and have you eaten’s that don’t equate to actual invitation. Sophomore year starts with two surprised faces and a high-five followed by a couple of semesters’ worth of your typical friendship: late-night studying (we take a few of the same minors), drunken nights over stupid unrequited love, and going over to the nearest convenience store when both of our laundry has piled up and we can’t borrow each other’s clothes anymore. It is also the year that I overcome my ultimate insecurity when Donghae suddenly tells me after class that he thinks my smile is brighter than the sun.
Things take a different turn in Junior year.
We are on a bench out in the cold and the dark, smoking cigarettes because it’s the cheaper method of resuscitation after finding out that you’ve flunked the exam you had studied the hardest for. He is on his third when I reach into my pocket and find that I won’t be having my second. He looks at me and, just like those other times, he takes the stick from between his lips with two fingers and I catch it with my mouth. It’s supposed to be that after taking a long drag it becomes his turn to smoke again, but the moment I’m taking away the cigarette and breathing out smoke, my vision is suddenly blocked and the less than 50% test score I had gotten is drowned by Donghae’s lips and tongue and warm breath.
Though there are no questions afterwards, a lot of answers are formed inside his room disguised as moans, grunts, and one or two instances of a muffled scream.
Oh don’t be silly-of course his roommate had been somewhere else.
Graduation brings smiles and tears. We finish with honors and, with a week of freedom done, we both take our parents to dinner and give them the news no parent is ever truly ready to hear. Through the sound of our mothers’ soft crying and our fathers’ deafening silence of disapproval, we keep the other’s hand tightly clasped in ours under the table and wait, knowing that we can never escape the world we had worked so hard to build.
Almost a month later a dance company hires me, and it doesn’t take long before he decides to quit trying to apply anywhere and instead go on his own. Well, almost on his own. Donghae’s family is, to say the least, well-off, and because his father loves him and has finally accepted me as part of his son’s life, he gives Donghae half of the starting capital he needs and the rest comes from a very generous bank loan. Though equipped with a finely tuned ear and musical talent, his popularity all throughout his student life pays off in the form of numerous solid connections thus contributing to the recording studio’s success-pretty soon he’s paying back his father and the bank at the same time. The celebration happens with just the two of us in the bathtub pretending that soap bubbles are snow but no, Hae, they’re similar in color but not in taste.
Later on he insists that I stop working because work at the recording studio is a drag like I won’t believe and he wants to be happy the second he steps into the apartment. Happiness, he says, is breathing in the faint scent of soap on my skin while I softly, very softly sing our favorite song into his ear. The first time he had asked me to do so I had nearly cried, embarrassed because I’ve seen him criticize people who are good enough to kick my vocal chords to the curb and it had hurt just to watch-the things that had come out of Donghae’s mouth then!
“Please, please, sing for me just once,” he says, his voice gentle and pleading. “We both love that song, don’t we?”
“But…but…you’re going to break up with me for sure if you hear me sing!” I protest. His hands are firmly wrapped around my wrists as I had hit his chest several times with the side of my fists. “I can’t, I really can’t. Just-,” Akin to the first time, Donghae kisses me until my train of thought is completely wiped out. Then he puts his hands on my waist and starts swaying, the first few lines of our favorite song escaping his lips. I become lost in the sweet, rough, addictive timbre of his voice.
That it’s gonna be okay,
That it’s gonna be over right away,
That as time goes by it’s gonna fade away,
I’ve been living with that belief.
If there’s one thing that Donghae is good at aside from music it’s convincing me to do something against my will. And more often than not, he uses his knowledge of the things that I love about him to succeed. Just like all the sexually-charged girls that I’ve seen ogling at Donghae in the past, I consider his voice incredibly beautiful, a delicate thread of gold string spun in his throat to form the most intricate patterns of notes and melodies in the air. I suppose there’s no other needed explanation as to why upon hearing him sing so perfectly and-this is the best part-realizing that it’s for me and no one else, I came to want to do nothing but please him in return.
And so, I continue the song.
Sometimes because of my bad behaviour
I’ve hurt you.
Now, little by little,
I promise you that I’ll change.
Even on cold nights, even on lonely nights,
You were always there for me.
But, where are you now?
At that point he smiles, looking genuinely contented.
“I’m such an idiot,” he says. “Everyday I look for a voice that will move me, a voice that will make my heart skip several beats, and it turns out that I’ve been looking in the wrong place,” He kisses my right cheek and lingers there for a few seconds before speaking again. “Swear to never sing for anyone else,”
“No one else will ask, anyway,” I say, pouting just a little. “You’re so strange. I have the worst smile in history then you tell me to smile more. My singing voice comes from hell and you tell me to ruin our favorite song,”
Donghae laughs a little. “Hell, you say? Oh, then maybe if I move the recording studio over there I’ll be able to find vocal gems like you every second,”
“Shut UP!” I try to wriggle out of his arms but, as it has always been, he beats me when it comes to strength and manages to keep me in place without much effort. When he resumes singing and swaying I join him almost automatically, my arms wrapping themselves around his neck.
So much that I can see only you,
So much that I can love only you,
Only you can make my heart running toward you,
Breathing because of you.
When you look at me, when you love me,
I can’t give you for anything in this world.
Now stay in my embrace like this.
We sway, sing in whispers, and talk about how our whole day has gone until we decide to prepare dinner. We always eat late at night because Donghae prefers to have something that we both had made. Whenever he has to stay at the recording studio beyond office hours, he calls and begs me to eat without him. I’ve never told him but on those nights, I welcome him in my arms with nothing in my stomach.
So that’s pretty much how life goes for us. I mean, was for us. That’s not how it is nowadays, not anymore. Our entire routine has been altered. Ah, but if I think about it, only our personal circumstances have changed, sort of switched. I’m the one working now though not in a dance company. We’ve also moved out of our old house because I think change is always good, don’t you agree? I sing more often than he does now, too, can you believe that? I still don’t find my voice beautiful but because Donghae loves listening to me, I give him exactly what he wants. I wish he would smile even just a little, though I know that it’s impossible for that to happen.
Oh dear. Why do I always forget to tell you the most important things?
Donghae’s dead.
Yes, yes, I’m quite fine. Don’t you worry about me. Everyone has been bombarding me with calls, messages, e-mails, letters, and gifts since the burial but really, I’m doing great. The most frequent thing I get is, “Please don’t keep it in-cry and release the pain.” I don’t know what they’re talking about, to tell you the truth, because there’s no “pain” whatsoever, especially not emotionally or mentally. If anything, there’s only physical pain.
WHAT? I would never hurt myself! Honestly, what is it with people connecting loss with suicidal attempts? It’s bullshit to kill yourself just because your loved ones have left you. Everyone and everything dies. Life is nothing but one big race to the finish line so if you cheat and take one of the many shortcuts, you’re surely going to be disqualified. My dear, I believe that God is the only one who can take life away.
Donghae comes down with something and passes away; it’s as simple as that. I don’t have to tell you what disease he had caught. All you need to know is that it tortures him the moment he catches it until the moment his hand squeezes mine tight enough to hurt and his breath leaves him. I don’t step out of the hospital from day one and instead get our friends to help me whenever I need something from the house. Also, I focus on Donghae whenever I’m in the room; I sing to him, read him stories and love letters I’ve written, and, every time he’s awake, I talk to him and attend to all his needs. At some point, he tells me he’s getting very, very tired but he’s trying hard not to die because even if he goes to heaven but I’m not there, he would cry everyday. I don’t say anything and feed him his lunch instead, but late in the evening I head for the washroom on the first floor and end up losing everything I had eaten since morning. There’s no crying, no going crazy, just getting extremely sick.
Amazingly, that doesn’t happen again. Even when they cover Donghae’s body with the blanket, when I see him lying inside the coffin, when I watch him being covered in slightly reddish brown soil, I barely react. I’m not sure why that is. I’ve always been a crybaby, an expert when it comes to the waterworks, but I’m not able to shed even a tear when the most important person in my life dies.
I’m a strange case, aren’t I?
As for the physical pain I had mentioned, have you ever worked at a construction site? Haha, well of course you haven’t. Pardon my moment of stupidity. Well let me tell you-it is hard work. When I had tried it during high school, they had given me the task of transferring cement blocks from one place to another and mixing gravel with cement. I would often curse at nobody in particular while working but boy oh boy, if I had known that those two things would help me in the future, I would’ve sung praises.
Wait for a second, will you? I’ll adjust the camera.
Can you see it clearly? Not yet? How about now? Okay.
What’s with that expression, darling? If it makes you feel any better, the sheets are new.
Did you just call me a psycho? Did you? I’d rather you not use those kinds of words with me because I know exactly what I’m doing. That’s the difference, isn’t it, between the sane and the insane? That’s why they let the cuckoos go when they kill people or something-their minds do all the work, control their bodies, while they’re taking an all-expense paid vacation in La-la Land. I’ve never been to that place, thank you very much, so no, I am not a psycho. Take that back, will you?
Oh come on, stop being so damn antagonistic. I told you the whole story, I spared no details, so you of all people should understand my situation.
It wasn’t easy, you know. Digging out a grave is exhausting. And that’s just half of the process-I had to make sure that I clean up the area good to make it look as though nothing had happened. I even brought a couple of those grass mats, the type that you put in a lawn. I don’t mean to brag but I did a perfect job-none of those people who visit Donghae on a weekly basis suspect anything, even until now.
No need to be worried about that detail. Our nearest neighbor is some twenty-five kilometers away and the closest road is a kilometer off so it doesn’t bother anyone. As for myself, believe it or not, I find the smell irresistible. I mean it’s Donghae’s smell, right? I’d put it on as a perfume if I can. Besides, I keep him in that beautiful glass box I had made in the other room most of the time. He’s on the bed now because-this is a bit embarrassing to say but oh well-we’ve just made love.
You look pale all of a sudden. Was it something I said?
Hahaha. Your reactions keep getting more and more interesting. Yes, my sweet, we can do that, or at least I can. He’s still pretty intact so it’s not a problem. I’m aware that if his body decays further I’ll have to be more careful (or just more creative), but because he’s still fresh and I get turned on simply by looking at him, I take him at least twice in one day. I don’t mind that he’s not warm and sometimes it’s a real mess when I’m done, but hey, it still feels amazing.
Now where did you go?
Oh there you are. You look terrible. And you have something at the side of your mouth. There, you got it.
Did you? You should’ve told me that you can’t stomach these kinds of things.
Well I can, darling, and a lot more others, too.
I see that you’re no longer in the mood to talk to me. I’m not saying that the puke on your floor is your fault but…you did ask about Donghae and I merely complied.
Again with the terrible name-calling. I told you to stop that; it’s not nice. I would never call you a “motherfucking necrophilic monster freak.” First of all, it’s Donghae I’m fucking and not my mother. Second, the last time I looked in the mirror I was still a human being. Lastly, the person I make love to is my best friend, my husband, my Donghae, and even if he dies he remains to be all those things. We’re still in a relationship which means that I have the right to screw him whenever I want.
What? But I have accepted his death. I just can’t stand knowing that he’s six feet under the ground and all by himself-he hates being alone, after all. I’ve told him so many times that I would never leave him and I’m not about to betray my own words.
And what would that call be for, may I ask? I haven’t committed a crime. All I did was to take Donghae home, to bring him back to where he belongs. He’s far too beautiful to stay where the most disgusting creatures reside. Besides, you don’t even know my real name or my current address. How in the world can the police come after me?
You make the most hilarious comments, do you know that? The psychiatric ward my ass.
I’ll be going now, if you don’t mind. I have some household chores to finish. I think this is the last time that you’re going to hear from me.
Please. No matter how much you try to convince me, I will never have Donghae buried. It’s bad enough that his soul is gone; let his body be with me.
Threatening me won’t do any good, either. If you don’t stop, I’ll have to take some action.
Ah, but I do know who you are and where you live.
You don’t believe me? Remember when we were supposed to meet a week ago and I didn’t show up? Guess what-I did. After calling you and apologizing because my boss suddenly told me to work overtime, I followed you to your house.
Oh, okay then. You live on the fifth floor of an apartment around five minutes from the Chungmuro subway station. The Catholic church there is so near that I can see it even from the window behind you. There’re two more apartment buildings right next to yours. There’s also a park ten minutes by bus and the shopping mall is right across that and-.
How rude. She didn’t even say goodbye.
What’s that, Hae? Alright, alright, I’ll stop chatting with strangers. It’s fun most of the time but a lot of them are certainly…weirdoes.
~
I believe that if I should die,
And you were to walk near my grave,
From the very depths of the earth
I would hear your footsteps.
- Benito Perez Galdos
Pairing: EunHae
Rating: R
Genre: Horror, Romance
Disclaimer: Eunhyuk and Donghae are each other's property.
Summary: Love knows no boundaries.
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DISTURBING THEMES. 'Nuff said.
Notes: I wanted to write a combination of horror and smut, but I guess I'll have to save that for later, LOL. I wanted something with more, err, substance. >:]
Oh hello. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you these days?
Indeed, our last conversation was cut short. Pity, really. What’s that last question you had?
Ah, yes.
Well he’s not here right now, actually. If you go back with me a month prior, though, you’ll catch him unlocking the front door and coming home to me just as he does without fail the same time everyday. He owns a recording studio in the city downtown area, small but most definitely one of the best, and to it he devotes some fifty hours a week in hopes that it would gain a good reputation and develop faster. The wannabe artists who enter that whitewashed building he had bought a year ago come out either dying of excitement or near suicidal in disappointment (he kills them no matter what), and believe me when I say that the former group is the cream of the crop-he is extremely picky and sensitive when it comes to music, so naturally, he takes but a handful under his wing.
Haha, I’m sorry. It keeps slipping my mind. My lover’s name is Donghae.
I remember meeting him in college. Because he and I are Music and Dance majors respectively, our buildings are right next to each other, so close in proximity that if they had been people the smallest of movements would cause one to nudge the other’s side. Our dorms, though, are a different story because there is but one inside the campus and, as fate or a faulty school computer system would have it, we end up living in the same wing for four years.
Freshman year is all hi’s and hello’s and have you eaten’s that don’t equate to actual invitation. Sophomore year starts with two surprised faces and a high-five followed by a couple of semesters’ worth of your typical friendship: late-night studying (we take a few of the same minors), drunken nights over stupid unrequited love, and going over to the nearest convenience store when both of our laundry has piled up and we can’t borrow each other’s clothes anymore. It is also the year that I overcome my ultimate insecurity when Donghae suddenly tells me after class that he thinks my smile is brighter than the sun.
Things take a different turn in Junior year.
We are on a bench out in the cold and the dark, smoking cigarettes because it’s the cheaper method of resuscitation after finding out that you’ve flunked the exam you had studied the hardest for. He is on his third when I reach into my pocket and find that I won’t be having my second. He looks at me and, just like those other times, he takes the stick from between his lips with two fingers and I catch it with my mouth. It’s supposed to be that after taking a long drag it becomes his turn to smoke again, but the moment I’m taking away the cigarette and breathing out smoke, my vision is suddenly blocked and the less than 50% test score I had gotten is drowned by Donghae’s lips and tongue and warm breath.
Though there are no questions afterwards, a lot of answers are formed inside his room disguised as moans, grunts, and one or two instances of a muffled scream.
Oh don’t be silly-of course his roommate had been somewhere else.
Graduation brings smiles and tears. We finish with honors and, with a week of freedom done, we both take our parents to dinner and give them the news no parent is ever truly ready to hear. Through the sound of our mothers’ soft crying and our fathers’ deafening silence of disapproval, we keep the other’s hand tightly clasped in ours under the table and wait, knowing that we can never escape the world we had worked so hard to build.
Almost a month later a dance company hires me, and it doesn’t take long before he decides to quit trying to apply anywhere and instead go on his own. Well, almost on his own. Donghae’s family is, to say the least, well-off, and because his father loves him and has finally accepted me as part of his son’s life, he gives Donghae half of the starting capital he needs and the rest comes from a very generous bank loan. Though equipped with a finely tuned ear and musical talent, his popularity all throughout his student life pays off in the form of numerous solid connections thus contributing to the recording studio’s success-pretty soon he’s paying back his father and the bank at the same time. The celebration happens with just the two of us in the bathtub pretending that soap bubbles are snow but no, Hae, they’re similar in color but not in taste.
Later on he insists that I stop working because work at the recording studio is a drag like I won’t believe and he wants to be happy the second he steps into the apartment. Happiness, he says, is breathing in the faint scent of soap on my skin while I softly, very softly sing our favorite song into his ear. The first time he had asked me to do so I had nearly cried, embarrassed because I’ve seen him criticize people who are good enough to kick my vocal chords to the curb and it had hurt just to watch-the things that had come out of Donghae’s mouth then!
“Please, please, sing for me just once,” he says, his voice gentle and pleading. “We both love that song, don’t we?”
“But…but…you’re going to break up with me for sure if you hear me sing!” I protest. His hands are firmly wrapped around my wrists as I had hit his chest several times with the side of my fists. “I can’t, I really can’t. Just-,” Akin to the first time, Donghae kisses me until my train of thought is completely wiped out. Then he puts his hands on my waist and starts swaying, the first few lines of our favorite song escaping his lips. I become lost in the sweet, rough, addictive timbre of his voice.
That it’s gonna be okay,
That it’s gonna be over right away,
That as time goes by it’s gonna fade away,
I’ve been living with that belief.
If there’s one thing that Donghae is good at aside from music it’s convincing me to do something against my will. And more often than not, he uses his knowledge of the things that I love about him to succeed. Just like all the sexually-charged girls that I’ve seen ogling at Donghae in the past, I consider his voice incredibly beautiful, a delicate thread of gold string spun in his throat to form the most intricate patterns of notes and melodies in the air. I suppose there’s no other needed explanation as to why upon hearing him sing so perfectly and-this is the best part-realizing that it’s for me and no one else, I came to want to do nothing but please him in return.
And so, I continue the song.
Sometimes because of my bad behaviour
I’ve hurt you.
Now, little by little,
I promise you that I’ll change.
Even on cold nights, even on lonely nights,
You were always there for me.
But, where are you now?
At that point he smiles, looking genuinely contented.
“I’m such an idiot,” he says. “Everyday I look for a voice that will move me, a voice that will make my heart skip several beats, and it turns out that I’ve been looking in the wrong place,” He kisses my right cheek and lingers there for a few seconds before speaking again. “Swear to never sing for anyone else,”
“No one else will ask, anyway,” I say, pouting just a little. “You’re so strange. I have the worst smile in history then you tell me to smile more. My singing voice comes from hell and you tell me to ruin our favorite song,”
Donghae laughs a little. “Hell, you say? Oh, then maybe if I move the recording studio over there I’ll be able to find vocal gems like you every second,”
“Shut UP!” I try to wriggle out of his arms but, as it has always been, he beats me when it comes to strength and manages to keep me in place without much effort. When he resumes singing and swaying I join him almost automatically, my arms wrapping themselves around his neck.
So much that I can see only you,
So much that I can love only you,
Only you can make my heart running toward you,
Breathing because of you.
When you look at me, when you love me,
I can’t give you for anything in this world.
Now stay in my embrace like this.
We sway, sing in whispers, and talk about how our whole day has gone until we decide to prepare dinner. We always eat late at night because Donghae prefers to have something that we both had made. Whenever he has to stay at the recording studio beyond office hours, he calls and begs me to eat without him. I’ve never told him but on those nights, I welcome him in my arms with nothing in my stomach.
So that’s pretty much how life goes for us. I mean, was for us. That’s not how it is nowadays, not anymore. Our entire routine has been altered. Ah, but if I think about it, only our personal circumstances have changed, sort of switched. I’m the one working now though not in a dance company. We’ve also moved out of our old house because I think change is always good, don’t you agree? I sing more often than he does now, too, can you believe that? I still don’t find my voice beautiful but because Donghae loves listening to me, I give him exactly what he wants. I wish he would smile even just a little, though I know that it’s impossible for that to happen.
Oh dear. Why do I always forget to tell you the most important things?
Donghae’s dead.
Yes, yes, I’m quite fine. Don’t you worry about me. Everyone has been bombarding me with calls, messages, e-mails, letters, and gifts since the burial but really, I’m doing great. The most frequent thing I get is, “Please don’t keep it in-cry and release the pain.” I don’t know what they’re talking about, to tell you the truth, because there’s no “pain” whatsoever, especially not emotionally or mentally. If anything, there’s only physical pain.
WHAT? I would never hurt myself! Honestly, what is it with people connecting loss with suicidal attempts? It’s bullshit to kill yourself just because your loved ones have left you. Everyone and everything dies. Life is nothing but one big race to the finish line so if you cheat and take one of the many shortcuts, you’re surely going to be disqualified. My dear, I believe that God is the only one who can take life away.
Donghae comes down with something and passes away; it’s as simple as that. I don’t have to tell you what disease he had caught. All you need to know is that it tortures him the moment he catches it until the moment his hand squeezes mine tight enough to hurt and his breath leaves him. I don’t step out of the hospital from day one and instead get our friends to help me whenever I need something from the house. Also, I focus on Donghae whenever I’m in the room; I sing to him, read him stories and love letters I’ve written, and, every time he’s awake, I talk to him and attend to all his needs. At some point, he tells me he’s getting very, very tired but he’s trying hard not to die because even if he goes to heaven but I’m not there, he would cry everyday. I don’t say anything and feed him his lunch instead, but late in the evening I head for the washroom on the first floor and end up losing everything I had eaten since morning. There’s no crying, no going crazy, just getting extremely sick.
Amazingly, that doesn’t happen again. Even when they cover Donghae’s body with the blanket, when I see him lying inside the coffin, when I watch him being covered in slightly reddish brown soil, I barely react. I’m not sure why that is. I’ve always been a crybaby, an expert when it comes to the waterworks, but I’m not able to shed even a tear when the most important person in my life dies.
I’m a strange case, aren’t I?
As for the physical pain I had mentioned, have you ever worked at a construction site? Haha, well of course you haven’t. Pardon my moment of stupidity. Well let me tell you-it is hard work. When I had tried it during high school, they had given me the task of transferring cement blocks from one place to another and mixing gravel with cement. I would often curse at nobody in particular while working but boy oh boy, if I had known that those two things would help me in the future, I would’ve sung praises.
Wait for a second, will you? I’ll adjust the camera.
Can you see it clearly? Not yet? How about now? Okay.
What’s with that expression, darling? If it makes you feel any better, the sheets are new.
Did you just call me a psycho? Did you? I’d rather you not use those kinds of words with me because I know exactly what I’m doing. That’s the difference, isn’t it, between the sane and the insane? That’s why they let the cuckoos go when they kill people or something-their minds do all the work, control their bodies, while they’re taking an all-expense paid vacation in La-la Land. I’ve never been to that place, thank you very much, so no, I am not a psycho. Take that back, will you?
Oh come on, stop being so damn antagonistic. I told you the whole story, I spared no details, so you of all people should understand my situation.
It wasn’t easy, you know. Digging out a grave is exhausting. And that’s just half of the process-I had to make sure that I clean up the area good to make it look as though nothing had happened. I even brought a couple of those grass mats, the type that you put in a lawn. I don’t mean to brag but I did a perfect job-none of those people who visit Donghae on a weekly basis suspect anything, even until now.
No need to be worried about that detail. Our nearest neighbor is some twenty-five kilometers away and the closest road is a kilometer off so it doesn’t bother anyone. As for myself, believe it or not, I find the smell irresistible. I mean it’s Donghae’s smell, right? I’d put it on as a perfume if I can. Besides, I keep him in that beautiful glass box I had made in the other room most of the time. He’s on the bed now because-this is a bit embarrassing to say but oh well-we’ve just made love.
You look pale all of a sudden. Was it something I said?
Hahaha. Your reactions keep getting more and more interesting. Yes, my sweet, we can do that, or at least I can. He’s still pretty intact so it’s not a problem. I’m aware that if his body decays further I’ll have to be more careful (or just more creative), but because he’s still fresh and I get turned on simply by looking at him, I take him at least twice in one day. I don’t mind that he’s not warm and sometimes it’s a real mess when I’m done, but hey, it still feels amazing.
Now where did you go?
Oh there you are. You look terrible. And you have something at the side of your mouth. There, you got it.
Did you? You should’ve told me that you can’t stomach these kinds of things.
Well I can, darling, and a lot more others, too.
I see that you’re no longer in the mood to talk to me. I’m not saying that the puke on your floor is your fault but…you did ask about Donghae and I merely complied.
Again with the terrible name-calling. I told you to stop that; it’s not nice. I would never call you a “motherfucking necrophilic monster freak.” First of all, it’s Donghae I’m fucking and not my mother. Second, the last time I looked in the mirror I was still a human being. Lastly, the person I make love to is my best friend, my husband, my Donghae, and even if he dies he remains to be all those things. We’re still in a relationship which means that I have the right to screw him whenever I want.
What? But I have accepted his death. I just can’t stand knowing that he’s six feet under the ground and all by himself-he hates being alone, after all. I’ve told him so many times that I would never leave him and I’m not about to betray my own words.
And what would that call be for, may I ask? I haven’t committed a crime. All I did was to take Donghae home, to bring him back to where he belongs. He’s far too beautiful to stay where the most disgusting creatures reside. Besides, you don’t even know my real name or my current address. How in the world can the police come after me?
You make the most hilarious comments, do you know that? The psychiatric ward my ass.
I’ll be going now, if you don’t mind. I have some household chores to finish. I think this is the last time that you’re going to hear from me.
Please. No matter how much you try to convince me, I will never have Donghae buried. It’s bad enough that his soul is gone; let his body be with me.
Threatening me won’t do any good, either. If you don’t stop, I’ll have to take some action.
Ah, but I do know who you are and where you live.
You don’t believe me? Remember when we were supposed to meet a week ago and I didn’t show up? Guess what-I did. After calling you and apologizing because my boss suddenly told me to work overtime, I followed you to your house.
Oh, okay then. You live on the fifth floor of an apartment around five minutes from the Chungmuro subway station. The Catholic church there is so near that I can see it even from the window behind you. There’re two more apartment buildings right next to yours. There’s also a park ten minutes by bus and the shopping mall is right across that and-.
How rude. She didn’t even say goodbye.
What’s that, Hae? Alright, alright, I’ll stop chatting with strangers. It’s fun most of the time but a lot of them are certainly…weirdoes.
~
I believe that if I should die,
And you were to walk near my grave,
From the very depths of the earth
I would hear your footsteps.
- Benito Perez Galdos