[fic] poetically pathetic, 1/1
Title: Poetically Pathetic
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Sungmin
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-15
Notes: Through some not-Korean music, personal experience, and observations made on my friends, this was created.
Word Count: 7000
Summary: It’s amazing, Sungmin thinks-how easily everything can just fall apart. Of stories, heartstrings, and too much love.
They met the summer before university started. Sungmin was one year older than Kyuhyun, but because he moved to Korea from China, he had been placed one year behind in school-which was how they were able to stay in touch for so long.
Through some friends, they had come to know each other during a road trip. In retrospect, it was a little stupid and completely naïve of them, but that was happened when you were young-you thought you knew everything and you took everything head-on, actually thinking that you could-would-win.
If asked, neither would be able to remember the details about that road trip, except for their destination. Time didn’t matter, and neither did gas money. All they’d be able to remember would be the alcohol, the taste of each other sitting heavy on the back of each other’s tongues, tangled limbs, sweet nothings whispered in husky voices, and feeling infinite.
Because really, if they were infinite then, they’d be infinite forever.
-
Sungmin has never been one for clichés or fairytales, but there is just something so romantic about lying under the stars with Kyuhyun.
“That one’s Orion’s Belt, right?” He points up at the sky, following three stars in the sky.
The younger boy laughs a little. “Not quite.” He grabs Sungmin’s hand and guides it a little to the right. “That’s Orion’s Belt.” Their hands remain in the air for a moment longer, before Sungmin turns his so their fingers intertwine together and come to rest on Kyuhyun’s chest. He shifts so his head fits into the junction of his shoulder.
“I guess I never really paid attention when it came to astronomy.”
Kyuhyun shrugs. “It’s not really that important anyway.”
Sungmin wants to tell him how amazing he thinks he is, but the words clump together in his throat-so he does the next best thing and kisses him, drowning himself in him.
-
They’re both in the faculty of music, but have different majors. Kyuhyun studies composition, while Sungmin studies history. They both have a minor in performance, although Kyuhyun specializes in voice, and Sungmin in guitar. It doesn’t matter, though-their schedules are similar, and they’re always in the same part of the building, only separated by a few hallways at most.
University is a scary place. For God’s sake, he’s only nineteen-and it’s so big and unfamiliar and-well, it’s just comforting to know at the very least, Kyuhyun is there. Sungmin doesn’t show it, but he actually thinks that he’s a lot weaker than he appears. A lot of the time, he finds his knees shaking and his throat dry and actually, now that he thinks about it, he’s kind of a coward. So for that reason, he depends on Kyuhyun-and Kyuhyun seems completely fine with it.
Sungmin has one of his classes with Kim Heechul. It’s not really worth mentioning right now, but Sungmin remembers, at one point, he had been completely in love with him.
In high school, Heechul had been an enigma-a person so sure of himself in the midst of almost-adults that Sungmin had immediately become attached to him. He remembered Heechul to have the most beautiful hands and the cruelest of words that always stung-the fairest face and the most intoxicating kisses. Sungmin was drunk off of him and really, who could blame him? Anyone would be drunk off of Heechul if they had the chance.
Six months into their relationship, Sungmin invited him to have dinner with his parents. Albeit reluctantly, Heechul agreed.
Sungmin remembers that he was so excited-nervous and anxious and giddy and just everything that sent him on edge that evening. He was ready to introduce Heechul to his parents, to tell them that this was the person that he’d been seeing for the past six months, and that I love him and I’m going to marry him one day, except he didn’t really get around to that last part.
Heechul had showed up at his door ten minutes late with a plastic smile and a loose tie around his neck. Sungmin already expected this and thought he looked amazing, but he probably wasn’t thinking anything at all.
It kind of went something like this: “Hey Mom, Dad, this is Heechul.” “Oh, hello, Heechul-ssi! Darling, doesn’t he just look dashing?” Grunt. “Sure. He probably hasn’t worked a day in his life, though.” “You don’t even let me work, Dad, so why do you expect anything different from him?”
Which was fine. And then dinner went a little something like this:
“So, Heechul-ssi, what do your parents do?” “My mom works full time at a restaurant. My dad left us a long time ago.” “-Oh, I see. I’m sorry to hear.” “Don’t worry about it, I’ve gotten used to it.” “So what do you think of our Sungmin?” Pause. Shrug. “He’s Sungmin, I guess.”
And it would be a lie if Sungmin said that those words didn’t hurt in the least, but it was Heechul-how could he expect anything more from him? But his parents didn’t know him, and they were taken aback by his answer-and Sungmin could see that his dad didn’t have a very good impression of him.
“Are you planning to go to university, Heechul-ssi?” “Probably.” “Any plans for the future?” “Not yet.”
And it kind of went downhill from there.
When Heechul left, Sungmin’s father began lecturing him about how he should be making better choices and choosing better people to date and aren’t you spending a little too much time with him, your marks have been falling as of late and by the time his mother came in to intervene, his cheeks were already stained with angry tears. Sungmin locked himself in his room that night and refused to come out no matter how many times his mother knocked on his door, and he felt that it just wasn’t fair-that the one thing that he felt passionate towards had to be criticized by his father, the one person he looked up to and respected the most.
The last thing his mother said before finally leaving him alone that night was this: “You’re making mountains out of molehills, you know.”
Oh, he was making mountains, alright-the wrong kind of mountains.
-
Kyuhyun likes composing. And Sungmin would assume so, considering that’s what he majors in. He takes Beethoven’s passion, Chopin’s nocturnes, and Debussy’s impressionism, and combines them all into one-something that’s all his own. Sungmin thinks it’s amazing.
Sometimes, he comes up with piano pieces. Most of the time, he does songwriting-the most gorgeous ballads that make Sungmin wish he could create something as beautiful as that.
From day one, he thought that Kyuhyun was amazing. He still thinks so.
Kyuhyun’s been asking Sungmin to teach him guitar. He’s been saying no.
“There is absolutely no harm in learning more music.”
“Except for the fact that it’ll damage my ego!” Sungmin jerks his pink guitar out of Kyuhyun’s reach. “You can compose, you can sing insanely high notes even though you’re a bass, and not to mention that you’re one of the best StarCraft players around. I don’t need you to be good at another thing.”
Days with Kyuhyun are spent like this. Sungmin is blissful and happy with him, even when he’s studying and is getting Kyuhyun to test him on Beethoven’s innovations or Prokofiev’s dates. (It usually ends in breathless kisses and his flash cards scattered all over the floor, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. He always has good intentions.) Kyuhyun occupies the better part of his thoughts and the entirety of his heart-there is no escaping it.
“I want to learn guitar so I can use it as the main instrumental for my next song,” Kyuhyun explains. “If I ever perform it, I want you to perform it with me.”
Sungmin is taken aback by this. Kyuhyun has never involved him with his songwriting before. Kyuhyun’s shown him his music, and he’s sang for him, but never once has he ever asked Sungmin to take part in the songwriting process. It makes his heart well up with feelings that he can’t comprehend, and he sits closer again, placing his fingers on the frets of his guitar.
“Well, there are all the basic chords, right…”
-
“Are you still seeing that Heechul guy?” Sungmin’s father had asked one day, about a month after the incident. (Needless to say, Heechul wasn’t having dinner with them again anytime soon.)
“Yeah,” Sungmin said through a mouthful of rice. “Why?”
“You should stop.”
He glanced at his father. “You can’t really tell me what to do as far as my love life goes.”
And it wasn’t just his father-Heechul was giving him problems, too. Ever since he came over for dinner, he’d been even more reserved than before. He was still loud and boisterous and funny and passionate and everything that Sungmin loved about him, but he became even more ingrained in the present than before. Heechul had always been about the here and now, rarely talking about the future, and never talking about the past. If Heechul was originally a closed book, he was now a closed book placed back onto its designated shelf in the library, collecting dust and not minding one bit.
After a tense and quiet dinner, Sungmin returned to his room and called Heechul. “Dude, my dad hates you.”
From the other end of the line, Heechul snorted. “A lot of people hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“Good for you. Do you want a prize for that?”
Sungmin frowned, and hugged his pillow to his chest. “You could’ve at least tried to make a good impression on my parents. My dad just gave me crap again tonight because I’m still dating you.”
“Do you want to stop, then?”
It was a moment before he even understood what Heechul was saying-but when he did, he burst out: “What are you talking about? Of course not!”
“Have you even thought about it, Sungmin? We’re two completely different types of people. We worked out for a while, but we’re not going to work forever.” Sungmin’s grip tightened on his pillow, and he felt his throat constricting, unable to breathe. “I think we should stop before things get too serious.”
(Because that was Heechul. He just decided things for himself and left everyone else behind.)
And what was Sungmin supposed to say? That he was already in too deep and couldn’t imagine a life without him? That was exactly the kind of thing Heechul hated to hear-but he should’ve known, from Sungmin’s body language, from-from everything. He should’ve known.
“What, do you not want me anymore?” he sputtered. “Are you just throwing me aside now that I’m not one of your passing fancies anymore?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “If that’s what helps you get through the day, then yeah.”
Heechul wasn’t perfect. Sungmin knew that, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had desperately hoped that he’d eventually be perfect-or that he’d come to be okay with all of this. Because that was what he thought love was about-compromise and talking things through and not backing out because you just wanted to call it quits.
(Except-except maybe this wasn’t love. Not for Heechul, anyway.)
“I met this new guy,” Heechul said abruptly. “He-he gets me more than you do.”
-What was that even supposed to mean?
“What did I do wrong?” he asked, desperate for Heechul to stay. He couldn’t do this-he couldn’t do anything without Heechul. Heechul was what gave him strength-he was what motivated Sungmin to be better. “What was it about you that I didn’t get?”
“Nothing,” he said simply. “You were just being yourself. Maybe you can understand me, Sungmin-ah, but you can’t be the person I want.”
“But-but I get you.”
“Not if you brought me to have dinner with your parents! God, we’re still in high school, did you really think that we’d last forever? I mean, I didn’t date you with the intention of only having a fling, but you have to be realistic here-we’re still kids and most of the things we do are pretty stupid. Just-meeting the parents after six months? Were you crazy?”
Sungmin sat there, stupefied. “You could’ve just told me that you didn’t want to, stupid…” He only realized that he was crying when his voice cracked.
“If you didn’t get that simple part of me after six months, I don’t think you’d ever get it.”
And that’s the story of Heechul-just an empty book, with the blank pages flipping in the wind.
-
“Chopin’s nationality?”
“Half French, half Polish. What do you take me for, an idiot?”
Kyuhyun is throwing music trivia at him to calm him down. After pulling some strings, Kyuhyun was able to land them a slot to perform the song that he wrote with the intention of performing with Sungmin. Sungmin’s played in front of people before-played as an audition to get into the faculty of music, played for his family, his friends (and Heechul-he’s played for Heechul, too)-but he’s never played with Kyuhyun before. It’s a completely different kind of anxiety.
“How did Schubert die?”
Sungmin giggles. “Advanced syphilis. And alone in the insane asylum, since Brahms basically stole his wife.”
“I really don’t think you should find that funny, you know.”
“Oh! Do you know how Berg died?”
“Wasn’t it from an insect bite?” Kyuhyun wrinkles his nose. Sungmin thinks it’s cute.
“How about Tchaikovsky?” But Kyuhyun never does tell him how Tchaikovsky died (it was from arsenic poisoning), because it’s at that moment that they’re called up to the stage. The nerves that weren’t present just moments ago return like a freight car, and he finds it difficult to breathe. Kyuhyun’s hand finds his, and squeezes it in reassurance.
And this, Sungmin thinks, must be what invincibility feels like.
-
Every day after class, Sungmin sees Heechul being picked up by some guy. He knows he’s Heechul’s boyfriend, because of the way Heechul smiles at him and hits his arm-it’s the way he used to treat Sungmin. When he speaks, he has an accent-he’s Chinese.
And a tiny voice in the back of his mind wonders if this is the man that Heechul left him for, all of that time ago.
The only reason this comes to mind is because today, Kyuhyun asks him to teach him Chinese. And Sungmin asks why, because Chinese is virtually useless in Korea, unless you’re trying to be arrogant and impress people. But Kyuhyun insists, so he teaches him a few phrases.
“You should take me to China one day,” Kyuhyun muses, lazily writing his Chinese name on a scrap sheet of manuscript over and over again. 圭賢, 圭賢, 圭賢. And then Sungmin’s name: 晟敏, 晟敏, 晟敏. The idea of it is terribly romantic, bringing Kyuhyun to China-to his childhood, to where his dreams and aspirations lay hidden, tucked away underneath dust and floorboards.
“Maybe one day,” he agrees, feeling the characters of their names encircle tightly around his heart.
“There’s a transfer student in my class from China-he hardly knows any Korean. That’s why I asked.” Kyuhyun drops his pencil when Sungmin reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers for no particular reason. He loves Kyuhyun’s fingers-they’re slim and delicate and he is right in the midst of them.
“No Korean at all? Then how does he understand what’s being taught?”
“Just really basic Korean. And I heard it’s because his marks were so outstanding at his previous university that we personally asked him to come here. I’m pretty sure he has some special treatment.”
“Oh, I see.” He continues to play with Kyuhyun’s fingers as he rests his head on the table, thinking of China and the future.
-
A few minutes before his next class, Sungmin sprints to the nearest bathroom, remembering the notes that his Biology teacher had back in high school regarding the bladder and how much it could hold (600 milliliters and you lose all control!). He is definitely beyond six hundred milliliters.
After he’s relieved himself and is washing his hands, someone laughs. “You really need to fix that habit of yours.”
Sungmin’s head snaps up and sees Heechul coming out of a stall. “What habit?”
“Of not thinking ahead. Like going to the bathroom before you leave the house.” Sungmin rolls his eyes.
“Sorry for not organizing my pee schedule for you.”
He sees Heechul walking towards him in the mirror, and he turns off the tap, ignoring him and grabbing some paper towels. He doesn’t miss Heechul anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that it can get awkward around him sometimes, considering that he hasn’t exactly let go of the whole I-blatantly-left-you-behind thing.
He feels Heechul behind him, so close that his breath ghosts over the shell of Sungmin’s ear. “You should be sorry.”
It hits him like a tsunami-remembering the afternoons spent with him at his empty apartment, filled with television shows and lingering kisses on collarbones. Heechul may have been brash, but the way in which he expressed his love had always been what Sungmin liked best about him.
“You’re not funny,” he all but gasps, short of breath, jerking away from him.
“I’m not trying to be.” Heechul leans against the wall and crosses his arms, looking smug. Sungmin is not impressed.
“Are you done? I have class to go to.”
“We have the same class, remember? Let’s go together.” And it’s not like he can say no, so he just lets Heechul do what he wants. It’s kind of impossible to stop him from doing what he wants to do, anyway. Sungmin can’t stop his heart from beating a touch too fast; his palms are sweaty and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. That’s what Heechul does-leaves and returns as he pleases, leaving a disaster in his wake.
“I hear you’re dating a composer now? Classy.”
“Being a composer doesn’t make you classy.”
“What do you mean?”
Sungmin doesn’t dignify him with a response. “And you’re dating that Chinese guy?”
Heechul laughs. “Oh, Geng? Yeah. He dances.”
“And how is he treating you?”
“Hm? Good, I guess. He’s chill.” Vaguely, Sungmin wonders what chill is supposed to mean. “And your composer’s treating you right?”
He scowls. “Of course.”
“Hm.” They stop in front of the closed door of their lecture room. “Well, I guess I wish you the best, then. It’s hard to find the one you’re meant to be with, after all.” Heechul is quick in his actions as he leans over and pecks Sungmin lightly on the cheek-the same lips that he’s kissed so many times before, the same lips that he imagined kissing for the rest of his life.
He’s about to snap at him to not do stupid things like that, but Heechul’s already opened the door and stepped into class.
-
“Do you think we could see that new movie this weekend?” He’s sitting atop the grand piano at the university’s rehearsal room as Kyuhyun is scribbling down some passing melodies.
“Oh, I’m seeing it with my family.” Kyuhyun glances at him, eyes apologetic. “Sorry.”
“Oh.” Sungmin’s face falls. “That’s okay.”
“I wanted to invite you along, but I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with it. I can always watch it again with you, though.” A wrong note. Sungmin flinches at the harsh dissonance, before laughing.
“What’s wrong with seeing it with your family?” Kyuhyun is like a leaf in the wind-floating and tumbling, showing two different sides that are so contrasting, but equally beautiful. Sungmin wants him-he wants all of him for all of eternity.
“Wouldn’t that make you uncomfortable?”
And okay, maybe the thought is a little intimidating, but he’d do it for Kyuhyun. “No, what do you take me for?” I’m not Heechul.
Kyuhyun smiles-his face lights in the way that Sungmin can’t explain-that makes him forget that he has a paper due tomorrow, and wonder how it’s possible for perfection to exist on earth. “Okay, then. We’re seeing it on Saturday. Are you free then?”
It’s been four and a half months since they started dating-since they fell together in a tangle of limbs and heartstrings on that summer road trip. Sungmin remembers. Sungmin will always remember.
-
“Do you believe in forever?” Heechul had asked one day as they were taking the bus together.
“What do you mean?” He had always been one to throw cryptic words around without bothering to explain them-and a lot of the time, Sungmin couldn’t really keep up with him.
“Just-forever. That things can exist infinitely.”
“Um…” He thought for a moment. “Not everything. But some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like love.” Sungmin looked over at Heechul and beamed. “Like us.”
Heechul smiled back, and turned to look out the window.
-
It’s getting colder as autumn fades away into winter. Sungmin meets with Kyuhyun and his family at their local theatre, rubbing his hands together for more warmth.
Kyuhyun’s sister is lovely, and his parents look sophisticated. Kyuhyun himself is wearing a pair of khaki pants and a cardigan-it makes Sungmin feel out of place in his jeans and fuzzy oversized sweater. But when Kyuhyun laces his fingers in his, his insecurities disappear into the background almost immediately.
After the movie, they have dinner together-like a family. Kyuhyun’s sister is quiet and keeps to herself-which is where Kyuhyun’s default silence most likely comes from. His parents are proper-they hold their chopsticks flawlessly and don’t make a sound when they’re chewing. Kyuhyun seems perfectly comfortable with this and eats with the same perfection, while Sungmin is doing his best not to clink his chopsticks too loud against his bowl.
Needless to say, his parents aren’t anything like he expected.
Kyuhyun is smart and proper-he’s well informed and has good habits. But that isn’t the part of him that Sungmin was first exposed to-when he first met Kyuhyun, he knew a crazy boy who talked back to everyone and made snarky jokes. He knew a boy who ran down the empty road at night, screaming at the top of his lungs-a boy with clumsy lips and the biggest heart in the world.
Somehow, Sungmin thought that his parents were what brought that side of him about-because even now, even though they’re hard-working students in school, that is the side of Kyuhyun that Sungmin feels predominates.
And his parents ask him questions-much like the way Sungmin’s parents asked Heechul questions, long ago-and although he knows that they don’t mean any harm, it feels like he’s being interrogated. It feels like everything he says is inadequate, aren’t good enough-no, he’s not sure what he’s going to pursue after he gets his degree, and yes, I am aware that a career related to music doesn’t earn very much money. It all sounded so much better in his head.
When Kyuhyun finally takes him home, just the two of them, he’s smiling honestly, and thanks him for coming-that it really made him happy. Sungmin smiles in return, hoping it looks genuine enough-it’s not that he didn’t enjoy it, but it really wasn’t what he expected.
(He’ll be a blank book-he’ll be whatever Kyuhyun wants him to be. He’ll turn into the type of person that he’ll want to spend forever with.)
-
He’s not making assumptions. He knows.
Zhou Mi is the transfer student that Kyuhyun wanted to learn Chinese for-the transfer student that he talks about occasionally. Sungmin meets him for the first time on a snowy afternoon, bundled up in a green scarf that Kyuhyun said looked good on him.
Zhou Mi is tall and chic and actually kind of gorgeous-Sungmin forgets how to breathe for a moment when he first sees him. He only speaks basic sentences in Korean with a heavy accent, and when Sungmin speaks to him in Chinese, his entire face lights up in relief and he responds with much more enthusiasm.
He’s a nice person. He’s honest and fun and has a great taste in fashion-but Sungmin doesn’t like him.
Zhou Mi likes Kyuhyun. And it’s not like he openly said so, but Sungmin can tell. His smile is bright when he talks to Sungmin, but when he talks to Kyuhyun, it’s absolutely blinding. And he’s always flustered around him like a little schoolgirl and Sungmin doesn’t know why it bothers him since Kyuhyun is his, but it just does.
And either Kyuhyun doesn’t realize this, or he does and is ignoring it. (Not like Sungmin would want him to do any different-well, maybe he would. He’s not sure.)
“圭賢真厉害了，” he’s saying enthusiastically. “他什么都可以做。” Kyuhyun’s amazing. He can do anything.
Zhou Mi has no idea just how amazing Kyuhyun is.
-
Sungmin takes Kyuhyun home that night. His parents are out somewhere (they told him that morning where they’d be, but he can’t bother to remember right now), and he brings him straight up the stairs and to his room.
Slamming the door shut, he presses himself up against Kyuhyun, kissing him hard. If he’s surprised, he hides it well.
He needs to indulge in him. Sungmin needs to remember those summer days when nothing mattered-when university was just a dot on the horizon and all that existed in his world was Kyuhyun and the instant noodles that could be found at gas stations. He needs to remember the reason why he fell in love with Kyuhyun in the first place-because for some reason, it feels like he’s slipping through his fingers. Or maybe he just fell in love with the Kyuhyun that doesn’t matter in comparison to the Kyuhyun that works hard in school, that sits quietly at dinner with his family.
Sungmin fell in love with the passionate Kyuhyun. The wild Kyuhyun. The Kyuhyun that didn’t care.
He finds that Kyuhyun again tonight-and he hopes that he can keep him, can tuck him away somewhere between the folds of his sheets. Because as wonderful as Kyuhyun the composer is, he isn’t the Kyuhyun that belongs to Sungmin.
-
Geng, he remembers his name to be. Heechul’s boyfriend’s name is Geng.
Sungmin sees him picking Heechul up every day after class. He’s good-looking-a tall nose and slim face, defined muscles. His smile is soft, and so is his voice, judging by how Sungmin can never hear him talk when he speaks to him-he’s surprised that Heechul even chose a person like him. He doesn’t seem like Heechul’s type.
(But then again, maybe he never knew Heechul.)
Kyuhyun says that Zhou Mi wants to see him again, and Sungmin can’t exactly say no to that, so he agrees. In fact, as the weeks pass, the three of them spend more and more time together. Zhou Mi is delighted by the fact that they can teach Kyuhyun Chinese together, and Sungmin just grows increasingly bitter.
How can Zhou Mi be happy, knowing that Kyuhyun belongs to Sungmin? How can he just laugh and be bright and bubbly and so absolutely hateful when Kyuhyun isn’t his?
And there are points when Sungmin is frustrated at Kyuhyun-because Kyuhyun is a good person who doesn’t say no to people like Zhou Mi. Because Kyuhyun smiles and laughs right back at him, trying his best to speak his broken Chinese and purposely sending Zhou Mi into a fit of giggles.
“Is your composer being stolen away?” Sungmin tenses when he hears Heechul whisper in his ear.
Up until that point, he’s been staring at Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi talking in the hallway. Sungmin is supposed to join them so they can all go out for a coffee together, but for some reason, he’s just stuck standing where he is.
“Hardly,” he says, although he’s not quite sure.
“He’s pretty attractive.” Heechul lets out a low whistle. “I’d keep my guard up, if I were you.”
But Sungmin trusts Kyuhyun. He knows that Kyuhyun would never cheat-that’s just dirty, and Kyuhyun doesn’t do dirty things like that. And especially not when just earlier that week, he was whispering lovely, precious, everlasting sweet nothings in his ear.
But then again, just like Heechul-he isn’t sure how well he knows Kyuhyun at all.
-
“I wrote a song for you.” Kyuhyun looks a little embarrassed as he says this. Sungmin is pleasantly surprised.
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Like what? If I’m learning this professionally, I might as well put some use to it.” Sungmin beams, feeling his heart swell.
“Okay, let’s hear it.” He pulls a chair up to the piano and settles down in it, feeling giddy.
It’s purely instrumental-different from what he normally does. Kyuhyun has never been a pianist, but it’s one of the best and easiest instruments to compose on, so he’s done a lot with it in class. It’s a simple melody with slight chord clusters in the left hand, quiet and sweet and melancholy and it weaves around Sungmin’s heart until he feels it wrapping around his throat, so tight that he can’t breathe.
(And if there is ever too much love, it must surely overflow from the eyes.)
When Kyuhyun is finished playing, he looks at Sungmin, lips parted in surprise. “Why are you crying?”
Sungmin sniffles loudly, shaking his head. “I-I don’t know.”
-
And there is never a sure way to determine when things are over. Sometimes, you just know. Sometimes, you don’t, and you either hold on with the thorn in your heart forever, or you let go, feeling the rest of you fall apart. There is no right or wrong, no distinct separation from black and white.
“Never follow your heart,” Heechul had told him once. “It makes the stupidest decisions. Always use your head. And if you can’t, then use your gut instead. But never your heart.”
Sungmin had laughed then, saying that the pain that the heart gave you was worth it in the end. Heechul had called him stupid.
Now, in retrospect, he was probably right.
“Zhou Mi invited me to go out shopping this weekend,” Kyuhyun tells him, lazily writing his Chinese name on a scrap sheet of manuscript over and over again. 圭賢, 圭賢, 圭賢. And then Sungmin’s name: 晟敏, 晟敏, 晟敏. And then Zhou Mi’s: 周觅, 周觅, 周觅. And Sungmin wonders when it became a world with the three of them. “Do you want to come?”
No, he wants to say. No, I don’t want to come. I want you to spend time with me and with me alone-I want to drive across the country and stare at endless fields and lie on the road, gazing at the stars and spilling out our hearts until there’s nothing left.
“Do you realize that Zhou Mi loves you?” he blurts out. And he doesn’t know where this word came from, love-it’s so ambiguous and it feels a little strange on his tongue and he realizes he’s never said it to Kyuhyun before-I love you, I love you, I love you-
Kyuhyun stares at him. “Yeah. Why?”
Sungmin sputters. “You knew?”
“Well, yeah, he’s kind of obvious, don’t you think?”
“Then why haven’t you done anything to stop it? Why do you keep encouraging it?” He feels his heartstrings tangling into knots, the lines of the musical staff tripping over each other until the treble clef is dangling precariously on it with a single eighth note swinging back and forth.
Kyuhyun frowns. “I’m not encouraging it. I’m just being his friend. It’s not like I can just stop talking to him because he likes me.”
And Sungmin knows it makes perfect sense, but it just doesn’t.
“What would you want me to do?” Kyuhyun asks. “Just leave him hanging?” And there is something in his eyes-something indescribable that Sungmin can’t quite pinpoint, and it’s scary, it’s absolutely terrifying, because this Kyuhyun-this logical, calculating Kyuhyun-Sungmin doesn’t know why, but he can’t, he just can’t-
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, that would be cruel of you.”
Kyuhyun purses his lips, and pulls him into a kiss. Sungmin melts against his mouth, fisting Kyuhyun’s shirt and feeling his bottom lip trembling.
Sometimes, you just know when things are over.
-
Is there is heaven and hell, Kyuhyun would be heaven. Black and white? He’d be white. A human and an ant-he’d be the human.
“I don’t think anyone is completely good or completely bad,” Heechul had said once. “Right? I mean, isn’t it just how we present ourselves? I want to be a badass, so I’m a badass. Doesn’t mean I’m always a badass.” Sungmin had nodded and agreed. “And just because you’re always this timid little bunny doesn’t mean you can’t be a raging monster.”
“Thanks,” he had said, laughing. “It’s nice to know that I’m a raging monster.”
Oh, he’s a raging monster, alright. A green, raging monster.
“Not always,” Heechul had corrected, grinning and kissing Sungmin. “Just sometimes. I wouldn’t date someone who didn’t have an ounce of fight in him.”
(Would Kyuhyun?)
They’re kissing. They’re in an empty stairwell of the university-warm and a little stuffy, like all stairwells are. Sungmin has Kyuhyun against the wall, and he’s kissing him in a way he hasn’t kissed him a long time-with desperation, like there will never be enough, like he’s slowly slipping away. Kyuhyun’s actions are lagging behind, like he can’t keep up, but Sungmin just keeps on pushing-his fingers splaying across his chest, taking hold of the roots of his hair. He’s nudged Kyuhyun’s legs apart with his knee, and their kisses are getting heated and he can’t really breathe and he nearly moans out loud when he feels Kyuhyun’s phone vibrating in his pocket against his crotch.
Kyuhyun pulls away, panting, pulling it out to check who’s calling. “It’s Zhou Mi.” There’s an awkward silence between them, and Sungmin is torn between tossing the phone to the side, and stepping away so he can take the call. He ends up doing neither, and he remains close to Kyuhyun as he answers the phone. He presses his forehead into the crook of his neck, almost as a last prayer of sorts.
“Hello? Hey, Mi.” Pause. “I’m at the university. Why?” Pause again. “Oh. I’m kind of…preoccupied right now.” Sungmin breathes in his musky scent, closing his eyes. This is how his days are supposed to be spent: indulging in Kyuhyun and falling in love again and again and again.
“Hang up,” he whispers into his skin. “Please. Hang up.”
“Mi, I have class in half an hour-” A lie. Sungmin knows it’s a lie-Kyuhyun finished his last class of the day an hour ago.
(It’s the first time he’s ever heard him lie.)
It seems like Zhou Mi knows he’s lying, too; Sungmin can almost hear him shouting from the other end of the line. He sounds hysterical.
“Kyu, please hang up.” His eyes are already closed, but he squeezes them shut even harder, as if it’ll make a difference-as if it’ll block out every evil in the world. (But you can’t hide from evil if it’s in yourself.) “Please.”
“I-” Kyuhyun sighs, his free hand falling to Sungmin’s waist, thumb tracing faint circles against the fabric of his shirt. He shivers. “Okay, I’ll be there in a sec.” He finally hangs up. Sungmin is too afraid to look at him. “Zhou Mi says he really needs to talk to me about something. I think he’s going to…”
“Confess?” Sungmin’s mumbling comes out even more muffled than it normally would’ve.
“I’ll say no, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes, concentrating on Kyuhyun’s thumb on his hipbone. “Of course.”
“I’ll never leave if you don’t want me to.” And there is something a little off about those words. If you don’t want me to. Sungmin takes a shuddering breath, feeling the last of him breaking.
“Do I tire you, Kyu?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I too emotional? Too demanding? Do you think I’m too selfish?”
There’s hesitation in his voice. “Well, some of that is good-”
“So I do tire you, then.”
“A little, I guess-”
“Do you want to stop, then?”
Kyuhyun’s breath hitches. “What are you talking about? Of course not!”
“We don’t-we don’t click like we used to, Kyu, do you notice? Everything was perfect when we met, but now, it feels like we’re constantly trying to piece things together over and over again.”
“What are you saying, that you don’t want me anymore?” The words strike a chord in Sungmin’s heart-a terrible, out-of-tune diminished seventh, and suddenly he’s crying-clutching Kyuhyun’s shirt and crying into his neck and Kyuhyun is just standing there, with his one hand on his waist, his grip almost bruising and his thumb at a standstill.
“I do want you,” he whispers brokenly. “But I want to real you-the you who didn’t care about anything and could completely let go around me-the one that I first met.”
There’s a pause. “This is the real me, too.”
“I know. That’s what I hate the most.” It feels like he’ll never get the wild, all-heart-no-brain Kyuhyun unless they’re back in that stuffy car on the empty road. Maybe he’s just not ready for this. Love, he means. Maybe he’s not ready for love. “Do you still want me?”
Kyuhyun wraps his arms tightly around Sungmin’s waist. “I will always want you.”
“Do you want the me you met before, or the me right now?”
A moment’s breath. “I don’t know.”
Sungmin gathers the pieces of his heart together before forcing himself to step away from Kyuhyun and messily wipe away his tears. “Zhou Mi’s probably waiting for you.”
When Sungmin glances up at him with puffy eyes, he looks torn. “Will you be okay?”
(No. No, I will not be okay.)
That wasn’t what Sungmin wanted to hear. He wanted to hear Kyuhyun say that Zhou Mi doesn’t matter, that Zhou Mi can wait-that Sungmin is the first in his heart and he will stay with him until he feels better.
He swallows. “You want Zhou Mi too, don’t you?”
Kyuhyun’s eyes widen by a fraction. “What do you mean-”
“Isn’t that why you don’t deny him? It’s because he’s everything I’m not, isn’t it?” Sungmin fights to keep his composure. “It’s because you want us both because you have two different sides of you.” And he knows his words are spot on, with the way Kyuhyun’s expression breaks right then-and he feels him breaking right along with him.
He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he’s fine with it-but he’s not, he’s really not. And it’s not like he’s willing to just live with it, because Sungmin is not head over heels for him, not anymore-he doesn’t know when this started, when his heart tumbled into this mess. He’s stuck and he doesn’t know what to do, because no matter what happens, it’s going to hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Kyuhyun whispers. “But I’ve never done anything with Zhou Mi, I swear.”
“No, I know.” Sungmin smiles weakly.
(And here is where another chapter of the story ends; the pages curled from words written with love, only a fraction of them filled. Here is where something is lost and something is gained and you’re not sure which is which-you just know that the risk is almost too much for you to bear.)
“Zhou Mi’s probably waiting,” he says again-this time, hoping that Kyuhyun will actually leave. He’ll fall apart and tell him to stay if he’s is there for a moment longer.
Kyuhyun’s eyes crinkle with a sadness that Sungmin can’t describe. “Can I see you later?”
(And here is where you lay a piece of your heart, so you can always find your way back if you ever get lost.)
“Maybe much later.” His voice cracks. “But for now…” He can’t even say it.
He sees Kyuhyun’s hands clench into fists. “Please, Sungmin-ah.”
“Don’t beg. Please, don’t beg.” (Or I’ll actually say yes.)
Kyuhyun’s eyes are the eyes of a person who doesn’t know what more he can do-and after a heartbreaking moment, he turns around and opens the door to the stairwell, leaving. Feeling the last of his strength leave him, Sungmin sinks down onto the stairs, breaths becoming shallow and haggard.
There are footsteps from the stairs above him. He doesn’t bother to look because he already knows who it is.
Heechul sits down beside him. “You can love someone all you want,” he says. “But just love isn’t enough.” Sungmin’s cheeks are stained with his tears. He can’t think. He can’t even breathe.
“I did the right thing though, right?”
Heechul wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he says honestly.
“He was everything to me…”
“As were you. You were everything to me, too.” Sungmin feels Heechul’s lips at his temple. “Maybe one day, love will be enough.”
“But not today.”
“Yeah. Not today.”
-
They met the summer before university started. It was an accident, a mistake-tripping and falling together down a tunnel of consequences and heartbreaks. They thought that they were infinite-that they could do anything, could take on the world.
And really, they did.
i was gonna post this last night, but i figured you guys were tired of my constant writing ;___; not to mention that i had so much homework do last night, sigh, the life of a high school senior. that, and it probably would’ve been bad luck to post this on valentine’s day anyway.
BTW DID YOU GUYS HEAR PERFECTION OMG PERFECTION /dies
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Sungmin
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-15
Notes: Through some not-Korean music, personal experience, and observations made on my friends, this was created.
Word Count: 7000
Summary: It’s amazing, Sungmin thinks-how easily everything can just fall apart. Of stories, heartstrings, and too much love.
They met the summer before university started. Sungmin was one year older than Kyuhyun, but because he moved to Korea from China, he had been placed one year behind in school-which was how they were able to stay in touch for so long.
Through some friends, they had come to know each other during a road trip. In retrospect, it was a little stupid and completely naïve of them, but that was happened when you were young-you thought you knew everything and you took everything head-on, actually thinking that you could-would-win.
If asked, neither would be able to remember the details about that road trip, except for their destination. Time didn’t matter, and neither did gas money. All they’d be able to remember would be the alcohol, the taste of each other sitting heavy on the back of each other’s tongues, tangled limbs, sweet nothings whispered in husky voices, and feeling infinite.
Because really, if they were infinite then, they’d be infinite forever.
-
Sungmin has never been one for clichés or fairytales, but there is just something so romantic about lying under the stars with Kyuhyun.
“That one’s Orion’s Belt, right?” He points up at the sky, following three stars in the sky.
The younger boy laughs a little. “Not quite.” He grabs Sungmin’s hand and guides it a little to the right. “That’s Orion’s Belt.” Their hands remain in the air for a moment longer, before Sungmin turns his so their fingers intertwine together and come to rest on Kyuhyun’s chest. He shifts so his head fits into the junction of his shoulder.
“I guess I never really paid attention when it came to astronomy.”
Kyuhyun shrugs. “It’s not really that important anyway.”
Sungmin wants to tell him how amazing he thinks he is, but the words clump together in his throat-so he does the next best thing and kisses him, drowning himself in him.
-
They’re both in the faculty of music, but have different majors. Kyuhyun studies composition, while Sungmin studies history. They both have a minor in performance, although Kyuhyun specializes in voice, and Sungmin in guitar. It doesn’t matter, though-their schedules are similar, and they’re always in the same part of the building, only separated by a few hallways at most.
University is a scary place. For God’s sake, he’s only nineteen-and it’s so big and unfamiliar and-well, it’s just comforting to know at the very least, Kyuhyun is there. Sungmin doesn’t show it, but he actually thinks that he’s a lot weaker than he appears. A lot of the time, he finds his knees shaking and his throat dry and actually, now that he thinks about it, he’s kind of a coward. So for that reason, he depends on Kyuhyun-and Kyuhyun seems completely fine with it.
Sungmin has one of his classes with Kim Heechul. It’s not really worth mentioning right now, but Sungmin remembers, at one point, he had been completely in love with him.
In high school, Heechul had been an enigma-a person so sure of himself in the midst of almost-adults that Sungmin had immediately become attached to him. He remembered Heechul to have the most beautiful hands and the cruelest of words that always stung-the fairest face and the most intoxicating kisses. Sungmin was drunk off of him and really, who could blame him? Anyone would be drunk off of Heechul if they had the chance.
Six months into their relationship, Sungmin invited him to have dinner with his parents. Albeit reluctantly, Heechul agreed.
Sungmin remembers that he was so excited-nervous and anxious and giddy and just everything that sent him on edge that evening. He was ready to introduce Heechul to his parents, to tell them that this was the person that he’d been seeing for the past six months, and that I love him and I’m going to marry him one day, except he didn’t really get around to that last part.
Heechul had showed up at his door ten minutes late with a plastic smile and a loose tie around his neck. Sungmin already expected this and thought he looked amazing, but he probably wasn’t thinking anything at all.
It kind of went something like this: “Hey Mom, Dad, this is Heechul.” “Oh, hello, Heechul-ssi! Darling, doesn’t he just look dashing?” Grunt. “Sure. He probably hasn’t worked a day in his life, though.” “You don’t even let me work, Dad, so why do you expect anything different from him?”
Which was fine. And then dinner went a little something like this:
“So, Heechul-ssi, what do your parents do?” “My mom works full time at a restaurant. My dad left us a long time ago.” “-Oh, I see. I’m sorry to hear.” “Don’t worry about it, I’ve gotten used to it.” “So what do you think of our Sungmin?” Pause. Shrug. “He’s Sungmin, I guess.”
And it would be a lie if Sungmin said that those words didn’t hurt in the least, but it was Heechul-how could he expect anything more from him? But his parents didn’t know him, and they were taken aback by his answer-and Sungmin could see that his dad didn’t have a very good impression of him.
“Are you planning to go to university, Heechul-ssi?” “Probably.” “Any plans for the future?” “Not yet.”
And it kind of went downhill from there.
When Heechul left, Sungmin’s father began lecturing him about how he should be making better choices and choosing better people to date and aren’t you spending a little too much time with him, your marks have been falling as of late and by the time his mother came in to intervene, his cheeks were already stained with angry tears. Sungmin locked himself in his room that night and refused to come out no matter how many times his mother knocked on his door, and he felt that it just wasn’t fair-that the one thing that he felt passionate towards had to be criticized by his father, the one person he looked up to and respected the most.
The last thing his mother said before finally leaving him alone that night was this: “You’re making mountains out of molehills, you know.”
Oh, he was making mountains, alright-the wrong kind of mountains.
-
Kyuhyun likes composing. And Sungmin would assume so, considering that’s what he majors in. He takes Beethoven’s passion, Chopin’s nocturnes, and Debussy’s impressionism, and combines them all into one-something that’s all his own. Sungmin thinks it’s amazing.
Sometimes, he comes up with piano pieces. Most of the time, he does songwriting-the most gorgeous ballads that make Sungmin wish he could create something as beautiful as that.
From day one, he thought that Kyuhyun was amazing. He still thinks so.
Kyuhyun’s been asking Sungmin to teach him guitar. He’s been saying no.
“There is absolutely no harm in learning more music.”
“Except for the fact that it’ll damage my ego!” Sungmin jerks his pink guitar out of Kyuhyun’s reach. “You can compose, you can sing insanely high notes even though you’re a bass, and not to mention that you’re one of the best StarCraft players around. I don’t need you to be good at another thing.”
Days with Kyuhyun are spent like this. Sungmin is blissful and happy with him, even when he’s studying and is getting Kyuhyun to test him on Beethoven’s innovations or Prokofiev’s dates. (It usually ends in breathless kisses and his flash cards scattered all over the floor, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. He always has good intentions.) Kyuhyun occupies the better part of his thoughts and the entirety of his heart-there is no escaping it.
“I want to learn guitar so I can use it as the main instrumental for my next song,” Kyuhyun explains. “If I ever perform it, I want you to perform it with me.”
Sungmin is taken aback by this. Kyuhyun has never involved him with his songwriting before. Kyuhyun’s shown him his music, and he’s sang for him, but never once has he ever asked Sungmin to take part in the songwriting process. It makes his heart well up with feelings that he can’t comprehend, and he sits closer again, placing his fingers on the frets of his guitar.
“Well, there are all the basic chords, right…”
-
“Are you still seeing that Heechul guy?” Sungmin’s father had asked one day, about a month after the incident. (Needless to say, Heechul wasn’t having dinner with them again anytime soon.)
“Yeah,” Sungmin said through a mouthful of rice. “Why?”
“You should stop.”
He glanced at his father. “You can’t really tell me what to do as far as my love life goes.”
And it wasn’t just his father-Heechul was giving him problems, too. Ever since he came over for dinner, he’d been even more reserved than before. He was still loud and boisterous and funny and passionate and everything that Sungmin loved about him, but he became even more ingrained in the present than before. Heechul had always been about the here and now, rarely talking about the future, and never talking about the past. If Heechul was originally a closed book, he was now a closed book placed back onto its designated shelf in the library, collecting dust and not minding one bit.
After a tense and quiet dinner, Sungmin returned to his room and called Heechul. “Dude, my dad hates you.”
From the other end of the line, Heechul snorted. “A lot of people hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“Good for you. Do you want a prize for that?”
Sungmin frowned, and hugged his pillow to his chest. “You could’ve at least tried to make a good impression on my parents. My dad just gave me crap again tonight because I’m still dating you.”
“Do you want to stop, then?”
It was a moment before he even understood what Heechul was saying-but when he did, he burst out: “What are you talking about? Of course not!”
“Have you even thought about it, Sungmin? We’re two completely different types of people. We worked out for a while, but we’re not going to work forever.” Sungmin’s grip tightened on his pillow, and he felt his throat constricting, unable to breathe. “I think we should stop before things get too serious.”
(Because that was Heechul. He just decided things for himself and left everyone else behind.)
And what was Sungmin supposed to say? That he was already in too deep and couldn’t imagine a life without him? That was exactly the kind of thing Heechul hated to hear-but he should’ve known, from Sungmin’s body language, from-from everything. He should’ve known.
“What, do you not want me anymore?” he sputtered. “Are you just throwing me aside now that I’m not one of your passing fancies anymore?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “If that’s what helps you get through the day, then yeah.”
Heechul wasn’t perfect. Sungmin knew that, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had desperately hoped that he’d eventually be perfect-or that he’d come to be okay with all of this. Because that was what he thought love was about-compromise and talking things through and not backing out because you just wanted to call it quits.
(Except-except maybe this wasn’t love. Not for Heechul, anyway.)
“I met this new guy,” Heechul said abruptly. “He-he gets me more than you do.”
-What was that even supposed to mean?
“What did I do wrong?” he asked, desperate for Heechul to stay. He couldn’t do this-he couldn’t do anything without Heechul. Heechul was what gave him strength-he was what motivated Sungmin to be better. “What was it about you that I didn’t get?”
“Nothing,” he said simply. “You were just being yourself. Maybe you can understand me, Sungmin-ah, but you can’t be the person I want.”
“But-but I get you.”
“Not if you brought me to have dinner with your parents! God, we’re still in high school, did you really think that we’d last forever? I mean, I didn’t date you with the intention of only having a fling, but you have to be realistic here-we’re still kids and most of the things we do are pretty stupid. Just-meeting the parents after six months? Were you crazy?”
Sungmin sat there, stupefied. “You could’ve just told me that you didn’t want to, stupid…” He only realized that he was crying when his voice cracked.
“If you didn’t get that simple part of me after six months, I don’t think you’d ever get it.”
And that’s the story of Heechul-just an empty book, with the blank pages flipping in the wind.
-
“Chopin’s nationality?”
“Half French, half Polish. What do you take me for, an idiot?”
Kyuhyun is throwing music trivia at him to calm him down. After pulling some strings, Kyuhyun was able to land them a slot to perform the song that he wrote with the intention of performing with Sungmin. Sungmin’s played in front of people before-played as an audition to get into the faculty of music, played for his family, his friends (and Heechul-he’s played for Heechul, too)-but he’s never played with Kyuhyun before. It’s a completely different kind of anxiety.
“How did Schubert die?”
Sungmin giggles. “Advanced syphilis. And alone in the insane asylum, since Brahms basically stole his wife.”
“I really don’t think you should find that funny, you know.”
“Oh! Do you know how Berg died?”
“Wasn’t it from an insect bite?” Kyuhyun wrinkles his nose. Sungmin thinks it’s cute.
“How about Tchaikovsky?” But Kyuhyun never does tell him how Tchaikovsky died (it was from arsenic poisoning), because it’s at that moment that they’re called up to the stage. The nerves that weren’t present just moments ago return like a freight car, and he finds it difficult to breathe. Kyuhyun’s hand finds his, and squeezes it in reassurance.
And this, Sungmin thinks, must be what invincibility feels like.
-
Every day after class, Sungmin sees Heechul being picked up by some guy. He knows he’s Heechul’s boyfriend, because of the way Heechul smiles at him and hits his arm-it’s the way he used to treat Sungmin. When he speaks, he has an accent-he’s Chinese.
And a tiny voice in the back of his mind wonders if this is the man that Heechul left him for, all of that time ago.
The only reason this comes to mind is because today, Kyuhyun asks him to teach him Chinese. And Sungmin asks why, because Chinese is virtually useless in Korea, unless you’re trying to be arrogant and impress people. But Kyuhyun insists, so he teaches him a few phrases.
“You should take me to China one day,” Kyuhyun muses, lazily writing his Chinese name on a scrap sheet of manuscript over and over again. 圭賢, 圭賢, 圭賢. And then Sungmin’s name: 晟敏, 晟敏, 晟敏. The idea of it is terribly romantic, bringing Kyuhyun to China-to his childhood, to where his dreams and aspirations lay hidden, tucked away underneath dust and floorboards.
“Maybe one day,” he agrees, feeling the characters of their names encircle tightly around his heart.
“There’s a transfer student in my class from China-he hardly knows any Korean. That’s why I asked.” Kyuhyun drops his pencil when Sungmin reaches for his hand, squeezing his fingers for no particular reason. He loves Kyuhyun’s fingers-they’re slim and delicate and he is right in the midst of them.
“No Korean at all? Then how does he understand what’s being taught?”
“Just really basic Korean. And I heard it’s because his marks were so outstanding at his previous university that we personally asked him to come here. I’m pretty sure he has some special treatment.”
“Oh, I see.” He continues to play with Kyuhyun’s fingers as he rests his head on the table, thinking of China and the future.
-
A few minutes before his next class, Sungmin sprints to the nearest bathroom, remembering the notes that his Biology teacher had back in high school regarding the bladder and how much it could hold (600 milliliters and you lose all control!). He is definitely beyond six hundred milliliters.
After he’s relieved himself and is washing his hands, someone laughs. “You really need to fix that habit of yours.”
Sungmin’s head snaps up and sees Heechul coming out of a stall. “What habit?”
“Of not thinking ahead. Like going to the bathroom before you leave the house.” Sungmin rolls his eyes.
“Sorry for not organizing my pee schedule for you.”
He sees Heechul walking towards him in the mirror, and he turns off the tap, ignoring him and grabbing some paper towels. He doesn’t miss Heechul anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that it can get awkward around him sometimes, considering that he hasn’t exactly let go of the whole I-blatantly-left-you-behind thing.
He feels Heechul behind him, so close that his breath ghosts over the shell of Sungmin’s ear. “You should be sorry.”
It hits him like a tsunami-remembering the afternoons spent with him at his empty apartment, filled with television shows and lingering kisses on collarbones. Heechul may have been brash, but the way in which he expressed his love had always been what Sungmin liked best about him.
“You’re not funny,” he all but gasps, short of breath, jerking away from him.
“I’m not trying to be.” Heechul leans against the wall and crosses his arms, looking smug. Sungmin is not impressed.
“Are you done? I have class to go to.”
“We have the same class, remember? Let’s go together.” And it’s not like he can say no, so he just lets Heechul do what he wants. It’s kind of impossible to stop him from doing what he wants to do, anyway. Sungmin can’t stop his heart from beating a touch too fast; his palms are sweaty and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. That’s what Heechul does-leaves and returns as he pleases, leaving a disaster in his wake.
“I hear you’re dating a composer now? Classy.”
“Being a composer doesn’t make you classy.”
“What do you mean?”
Sungmin doesn’t dignify him with a response. “And you’re dating that Chinese guy?”
Heechul laughs. “Oh, Geng? Yeah. He dances.”
“And how is he treating you?”
“Hm? Good, I guess. He’s chill.” Vaguely, Sungmin wonders what chill is supposed to mean. “And your composer’s treating you right?”
He scowls. “Of course.”
“Hm.” They stop in front of the closed door of their lecture room. “Well, I guess I wish you the best, then. It’s hard to find the one you’re meant to be with, after all.” Heechul is quick in his actions as he leans over and pecks Sungmin lightly on the cheek-the same lips that he’s kissed so many times before, the same lips that he imagined kissing for the rest of his life.
He’s about to snap at him to not do stupid things like that, but Heechul’s already opened the door and stepped into class.
-
“Do you think we could see that new movie this weekend?” He’s sitting atop the grand piano at the university’s rehearsal room as Kyuhyun is scribbling down some passing melodies.
“Oh, I’m seeing it with my family.” Kyuhyun glances at him, eyes apologetic. “Sorry.”
“Oh.” Sungmin’s face falls. “That’s okay.”
“I wanted to invite you along, but I didn’t think you’d be comfortable with it. I can always watch it again with you, though.” A wrong note. Sungmin flinches at the harsh dissonance, before laughing.
“What’s wrong with seeing it with your family?” Kyuhyun is like a leaf in the wind-floating and tumbling, showing two different sides that are so contrasting, but equally beautiful. Sungmin wants him-he wants all of him for all of eternity.
“Wouldn’t that make you uncomfortable?”
And okay, maybe the thought is a little intimidating, but he’d do it for Kyuhyun. “No, what do you take me for?” I’m not Heechul.
Kyuhyun smiles-his face lights in the way that Sungmin can’t explain-that makes him forget that he has a paper due tomorrow, and wonder how it’s possible for perfection to exist on earth. “Okay, then. We’re seeing it on Saturday. Are you free then?”
It’s been four and a half months since they started dating-since they fell together in a tangle of limbs and heartstrings on that summer road trip. Sungmin remembers. Sungmin will always remember.
-
“Do you believe in forever?” Heechul had asked one day as they were taking the bus together.
“What do you mean?” He had always been one to throw cryptic words around without bothering to explain them-and a lot of the time, Sungmin couldn’t really keep up with him.
“Just-forever. That things can exist infinitely.”
“Um…” He thought for a moment. “Not everything. But some things.”
“Like what?”
“Like love.” Sungmin looked over at Heechul and beamed. “Like us.”
Heechul smiled back, and turned to look out the window.
-
It’s getting colder as autumn fades away into winter. Sungmin meets with Kyuhyun and his family at their local theatre, rubbing his hands together for more warmth.
Kyuhyun’s sister is lovely, and his parents look sophisticated. Kyuhyun himself is wearing a pair of khaki pants and a cardigan-it makes Sungmin feel out of place in his jeans and fuzzy oversized sweater. But when Kyuhyun laces his fingers in his, his insecurities disappear into the background almost immediately.
After the movie, they have dinner together-like a family. Kyuhyun’s sister is quiet and keeps to herself-which is where Kyuhyun’s default silence most likely comes from. His parents are proper-they hold their chopsticks flawlessly and don’t make a sound when they’re chewing. Kyuhyun seems perfectly comfortable with this and eats with the same perfection, while Sungmin is doing his best not to clink his chopsticks too loud against his bowl.
Needless to say, his parents aren’t anything like he expected.
Kyuhyun is smart and proper-he’s well informed and has good habits. But that isn’t the part of him that Sungmin was first exposed to-when he first met Kyuhyun, he knew a crazy boy who talked back to everyone and made snarky jokes. He knew a boy who ran down the empty road at night, screaming at the top of his lungs-a boy with clumsy lips and the biggest heart in the world.
Somehow, Sungmin thought that his parents were what brought that side of him about-because even now, even though they’re hard-working students in school, that is the side of Kyuhyun that Sungmin feels predominates.
And his parents ask him questions-much like the way Sungmin’s parents asked Heechul questions, long ago-and although he knows that they don’t mean any harm, it feels like he’s being interrogated. It feels like everything he says is inadequate, aren’t good enough-no, he’s not sure what he’s going to pursue after he gets his degree, and yes, I am aware that a career related to music doesn’t earn very much money. It all sounded so much better in his head.
When Kyuhyun finally takes him home, just the two of them, he’s smiling honestly, and thanks him for coming-that it really made him happy. Sungmin smiles in return, hoping it looks genuine enough-it’s not that he didn’t enjoy it, but it really wasn’t what he expected.
(He’ll be a blank book-he’ll be whatever Kyuhyun wants him to be. He’ll turn into the type of person that he’ll want to spend forever with.)
-
He’s not making assumptions. He knows.
Zhou Mi is the transfer student that Kyuhyun wanted to learn Chinese for-the transfer student that he talks about occasionally. Sungmin meets him for the first time on a snowy afternoon, bundled up in a green scarf that Kyuhyun said looked good on him.
Zhou Mi is tall and chic and actually kind of gorgeous-Sungmin forgets how to breathe for a moment when he first sees him. He only speaks basic sentences in Korean with a heavy accent, and when Sungmin speaks to him in Chinese, his entire face lights up in relief and he responds with much more enthusiasm.
He’s a nice person. He’s honest and fun and has a great taste in fashion-but Sungmin doesn’t like him.
Zhou Mi likes Kyuhyun. And it’s not like he openly said so, but Sungmin can tell. His smile is bright when he talks to Sungmin, but when he talks to Kyuhyun, it’s absolutely blinding. And he’s always flustered around him like a little schoolgirl and Sungmin doesn’t know why it bothers him since Kyuhyun is his, but it just does.
And either Kyuhyun doesn’t realize this, or he does and is ignoring it. (Not like Sungmin would want him to do any different-well, maybe he would. He’s not sure.)
“圭賢真厉害了，” he’s saying enthusiastically. “他什么都可以做。” Kyuhyun’s amazing. He can do anything.
Zhou Mi has no idea just how amazing Kyuhyun is.
-
Sungmin takes Kyuhyun home that night. His parents are out somewhere (they told him that morning where they’d be, but he can’t bother to remember right now), and he brings him straight up the stairs and to his room.
Slamming the door shut, he presses himself up against Kyuhyun, kissing him hard. If he’s surprised, he hides it well.
He needs to indulge in him. Sungmin needs to remember those summer days when nothing mattered-when university was just a dot on the horizon and all that existed in his world was Kyuhyun and the instant noodles that could be found at gas stations. He needs to remember the reason why he fell in love with Kyuhyun in the first place-because for some reason, it feels like he’s slipping through his fingers. Or maybe he just fell in love with the Kyuhyun that doesn’t matter in comparison to the Kyuhyun that works hard in school, that sits quietly at dinner with his family.
Sungmin fell in love with the passionate Kyuhyun. The wild Kyuhyun. The Kyuhyun that didn’t care.
He finds that Kyuhyun again tonight-and he hopes that he can keep him, can tuck him away somewhere between the folds of his sheets. Because as wonderful as Kyuhyun the composer is, he isn’t the Kyuhyun that belongs to Sungmin.
-
Geng, he remembers his name to be. Heechul’s boyfriend’s name is Geng.
Sungmin sees him picking Heechul up every day after class. He’s good-looking-a tall nose and slim face, defined muscles. His smile is soft, and so is his voice, judging by how Sungmin can never hear him talk when he speaks to him-he’s surprised that Heechul even chose a person like him. He doesn’t seem like Heechul’s type.
(But then again, maybe he never knew Heechul.)
Kyuhyun says that Zhou Mi wants to see him again, and Sungmin can’t exactly say no to that, so he agrees. In fact, as the weeks pass, the three of them spend more and more time together. Zhou Mi is delighted by the fact that they can teach Kyuhyun Chinese together, and Sungmin just grows increasingly bitter.
How can Zhou Mi be happy, knowing that Kyuhyun belongs to Sungmin? How can he just laugh and be bright and bubbly and so absolutely hateful when Kyuhyun isn’t his?
And there are points when Sungmin is frustrated at Kyuhyun-because Kyuhyun is a good person who doesn’t say no to people like Zhou Mi. Because Kyuhyun smiles and laughs right back at him, trying his best to speak his broken Chinese and purposely sending Zhou Mi into a fit of giggles.
“Is your composer being stolen away?” Sungmin tenses when he hears Heechul whisper in his ear.
Up until that point, he’s been staring at Kyuhyun and Zhou Mi talking in the hallway. Sungmin is supposed to join them so they can all go out for a coffee together, but for some reason, he’s just stuck standing where he is.
“Hardly,” he says, although he’s not quite sure.
“He’s pretty attractive.” Heechul lets out a low whistle. “I’d keep my guard up, if I were you.”
But Sungmin trusts Kyuhyun. He knows that Kyuhyun would never cheat-that’s just dirty, and Kyuhyun doesn’t do dirty things like that. And especially not when just earlier that week, he was whispering lovely, precious, everlasting sweet nothings in his ear.
But then again, just like Heechul-he isn’t sure how well he knows Kyuhyun at all.
-
“I wrote a song for you.” Kyuhyun looks a little embarrassed as he says this. Sungmin is pleasantly surprised.
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Like what? If I’m learning this professionally, I might as well put some use to it.” Sungmin beams, feeling his heart swell.
“Okay, let’s hear it.” He pulls a chair up to the piano and settles down in it, feeling giddy.
It’s purely instrumental-different from what he normally does. Kyuhyun has never been a pianist, but it’s one of the best and easiest instruments to compose on, so he’s done a lot with it in class. It’s a simple melody with slight chord clusters in the left hand, quiet and sweet and melancholy and it weaves around Sungmin’s heart until he feels it wrapping around his throat, so tight that he can’t breathe.
(And if there is ever too much love, it must surely overflow from the eyes.)
When Kyuhyun is finished playing, he looks at Sungmin, lips parted in surprise. “Why are you crying?”
Sungmin sniffles loudly, shaking his head. “I-I don’t know.”
-
And there is never a sure way to determine when things are over. Sometimes, you just know. Sometimes, you don’t, and you either hold on with the thorn in your heart forever, or you let go, feeling the rest of you fall apart. There is no right or wrong, no distinct separation from black and white.
“Never follow your heart,” Heechul had told him once. “It makes the stupidest decisions. Always use your head. And if you can’t, then use your gut instead. But never your heart.”
Sungmin had laughed then, saying that the pain that the heart gave you was worth it in the end. Heechul had called him stupid.
Now, in retrospect, he was probably right.
“Zhou Mi invited me to go out shopping this weekend,” Kyuhyun tells him, lazily writing his Chinese name on a scrap sheet of manuscript over and over again. 圭賢, 圭賢, 圭賢. And then Sungmin’s name: 晟敏, 晟敏, 晟敏. And then Zhou Mi’s: 周觅, 周觅, 周觅. And Sungmin wonders when it became a world with the three of them. “Do you want to come?”
No, he wants to say. No, I don’t want to come. I want you to spend time with me and with me alone-I want to drive across the country and stare at endless fields and lie on the road, gazing at the stars and spilling out our hearts until there’s nothing left.
“Do you realize that Zhou Mi loves you?” he blurts out. And he doesn’t know where this word came from, love-it’s so ambiguous and it feels a little strange on his tongue and he realizes he’s never said it to Kyuhyun before-I love you, I love you, I love you-
Kyuhyun stares at him. “Yeah. Why?”
Sungmin sputters. “You knew?”
“Well, yeah, he’s kind of obvious, don’t you think?”
“Then why haven’t you done anything to stop it? Why do you keep encouraging it?” He feels his heartstrings tangling into knots, the lines of the musical staff tripping over each other until the treble clef is dangling precariously on it with a single eighth note swinging back and forth.
Kyuhyun frowns. “I’m not encouraging it. I’m just being his friend. It’s not like I can just stop talking to him because he likes me.”
And Sungmin knows it makes perfect sense, but it just doesn’t.
“What would you want me to do?” Kyuhyun asks. “Just leave him hanging?” And there is something in his eyes-something indescribable that Sungmin can’t quite pinpoint, and it’s scary, it’s absolutely terrifying, because this Kyuhyun-this logical, calculating Kyuhyun-Sungmin doesn’t know why, but he can’t, he just can’t-
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, that would be cruel of you.”
Kyuhyun purses his lips, and pulls him into a kiss. Sungmin melts against his mouth, fisting Kyuhyun’s shirt and feeling his bottom lip trembling.
Sometimes, you just know when things are over.
-
Is there is heaven and hell, Kyuhyun would be heaven. Black and white? He’d be white. A human and an ant-he’d be the human.
“I don’t think anyone is completely good or completely bad,” Heechul had said once. “Right? I mean, isn’t it just how we present ourselves? I want to be a badass, so I’m a badass. Doesn’t mean I’m always a badass.” Sungmin had nodded and agreed. “And just because you’re always this timid little bunny doesn’t mean you can’t be a raging monster.”
“Thanks,” he had said, laughing. “It’s nice to know that I’m a raging monster.”
Oh, he’s a raging monster, alright. A green, raging monster.
“Not always,” Heechul had corrected, grinning and kissing Sungmin. “Just sometimes. I wouldn’t date someone who didn’t have an ounce of fight in him.”
(Would Kyuhyun?)
They’re kissing. They’re in an empty stairwell of the university-warm and a little stuffy, like all stairwells are. Sungmin has Kyuhyun against the wall, and he’s kissing him in a way he hasn’t kissed him a long time-with desperation, like there will never be enough, like he’s slowly slipping away. Kyuhyun’s actions are lagging behind, like he can’t keep up, but Sungmin just keeps on pushing-his fingers splaying across his chest, taking hold of the roots of his hair. He’s nudged Kyuhyun’s legs apart with his knee, and their kisses are getting heated and he can’t really breathe and he nearly moans out loud when he feels Kyuhyun’s phone vibrating in his pocket against his crotch.
Kyuhyun pulls away, panting, pulling it out to check who’s calling. “It’s Zhou Mi.” There’s an awkward silence between them, and Sungmin is torn between tossing the phone to the side, and stepping away so he can take the call. He ends up doing neither, and he remains close to Kyuhyun as he answers the phone. He presses his forehead into the crook of his neck, almost as a last prayer of sorts.
“Hello? Hey, Mi.” Pause. “I’m at the university. Why?” Pause again. “Oh. I’m kind of…preoccupied right now.” Sungmin breathes in his musky scent, closing his eyes. This is how his days are supposed to be spent: indulging in Kyuhyun and falling in love again and again and again.
“Hang up,” he whispers into his skin. “Please. Hang up.”
“Mi, I have class in half an hour-” A lie. Sungmin knows it’s a lie-Kyuhyun finished his last class of the day an hour ago.
(It’s the first time he’s ever heard him lie.)
It seems like Zhou Mi knows he’s lying, too; Sungmin can almost hear him shouting from the other end of the line. He sounds hysterical.
“Kyu, please hang up.” His eyes are already closed, but he squeezes them shut even harder, as if it’ll make a difference-as if it’ll block out every evil in the world. (But you can’t hide from evil if it’s in yourself.) “Please.”
“I-” Kyuhyun sighs, his free hand falling to Sungmin’s waist, thumb tracing faint circles against the fabric of his shirt. He shivers. “Okay, I’ll be there in a sec.” He finally hangs up. Sungmin is too afraid to look at him. “Zhou Mi says he really needs to talk to me about something. I think he’s going to…”
“Confess?” Sungmin’s mumbling comes out even more muffled than it normally would’ve.
“I’ll say no, of course.”
“Of course,” he echoes, concentrating on Kyuhyun’s thumb on his hipbone. “Of course.”
“I’ll never leave if you don’t want me to.” And there is something a little off about those words. If you don’t want me to. Sungmin takes a shuddering breath, feeling the last of him breaking.
“Do I tire you, Kyu?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I too emotional? Too demanding? Do you think I’m too selfish?”
There’s hesitation in his voice. “Well, some of that is good-”
“So I do tire you, then.”
“A little, I guess-”
“Do you want to stop, then?”
Kyuhyun’s breath hitches. “What are you talking about? Of course not!”
“We don’t-we don’t click like we used to, Kyu, do you notice? Everything was perfect when we met, but now, it feels like we’re constantly trying to piece things together over and over again.”
“What are you saying, that you don’t want me anymore?” The words strike a chord in Sungmin’s heart-a terrible, out-of-tune diminished seventh, and suddenly he’s crying-clutching Kyuhyun’s shirt and crying into his neck and Kyuhyun is just standing there, with his one hand on his waist, his grip almost bruising and his thumb at a standstill.
“I do want you,” he whispers brokenly. “But I want to real you-the you who didn’t care about anything and could completely let go around me-the one that I first met.”
There’s a pause. “This is the real me, too.”
“I know. That’s what I hate the most.” It feels like he’ll never get the wild, all-heart-no-brain Kyuhyun unless they’re back in that stuffy car on the empty road. Maybe he’s just not ready for this. Love, he means. Maybe he’s not ready for love. “Do you still want me?”
Kyuhyun wraps his arms tightly around Sungmin’s waist. “I will always want you.”
“Do you want the me you met before, or the me right now?”
A moment’s breath. “I don’t know.”
Sungmin gathers the pieces of his heart together before forcing himself to step away from Kyuhyun and messily wipe away his tears. “Zhou Mi’s probably waiting for you.”
When Sungmin glances up at him with puffy eyes, he looks torn. “Will you be okay?”
(No. No, I will not be okay.)
That wasn’t what Sungmin wanted to hear. He wanted to hear Kyuhyun say that Zhou Mi doesn’t matter, that Zhou Mi can wait-that Sungmin is the first in his heart and he will stay with him until he feels better.
He swallows. “You want Zhou Mi too, don’t you?”
Kyuhyun’s eyes widen by a fraction. “What do you mean-”
“Isn’t that why you don’t deny him? It’s because he’s everything I’m not, isn’t it?” Sungmin fights to keep his composure. “It’s because you want us both because you have two different sides of you.” And he knows his words are spot on, with the way Kyuhyun’s expression breaks right then-and he feels him breaking right along with him.
He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell him that it’s okay, that he’s fine with it-but he’s not, he’s really not. And it’s not like he’s willing to just live with it, because Sungmin is not head over heels for him, not anymore-he doesn’t know when this started, when his heart tumbled into this mess. He’s stuck and he doesn’t know what to do, because no matter what happens, it’s going to hurt.
“I’m sorry,” Kyuhyun whispers. “But I’ve never done anything with Zhou Mi, I swear.”
“No, I know.” Sungmin smiles weakly.
(And here is where another chapter of the story ends; the pages curled from words written with love, only a fraction of them filled. Here is where something is lost and something is gained and you’re not sure which is which-you just know that the risk is almost too much for you to bear.)
“Zhou Mi’s probably waiting,” he says again-this time, hoping that Kyuhyun will actually leave. He’ll fall apart and tell him to stay if he’s is there for a moment longer.
Kyuhyun’s eyes crinkle with a sadness that Sungmin can’t describe. “Can I see you later?”
(And here is where you lay a piece of your heart, so you can always find your way back if you ever get lost.)
“Maybe much later.” His voice cracks. “But for now…” He can’t even say it.
He sees Kyuhyun’s hands clench into fists. “Please, Sungmin-ah.”
“Don’t beg. Please, don’t beg.” (Or I’ll actually say yes.)
Kyuhyun’s eyes are the eyes of a person who doesn’t know what more he can do-and after a heartbreaking moment, he turns around and opens the door to the stairwell, leaving. Feeling the last of his strength leave him, Sungmin sinks down onto the stairs, breaths becoming shallow and haggard.
There are footsteps from the stairs above him. He doesn’t bother to look because he already knows who it is.
Heechul sits down beside him. “You can love someone all you want,” he says. “But just love isn’t enough.” Sungmin’s cheeks are stained with his tears. He can’t think. He can’t even breathe.
“I did the right thing though, right?”
Heechul wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t know,” he says honestly.
“He was everything to me…”
“As were you. You were everything to me, too.” Sungmin feels Heechul’s lips at his temple. “Maybe one day, love will be enough.”
“But not today.”
“Yeah. Not today.”
-
They met the summer before university started. It was an accident, a mistake-tripping and falling together down a tunnel of consequences and heartbreaks. They thought that they were infinite-that they could do anything, could take on the world.
And really, they did.
i was gonna post this last night, but i figured you guys were tired of my constant writing ;___; not to mention that i had so much homework do last night, sigh, the life of a high school senior. that, and it probably would’ve been bad luck to post this on valentine’s day anyway.
BTW DID YOU GUYS HEAR PERFECTION OMG PERFECTION /dies