wake me up.
wake me up.
kris/suho - nc-17 - angst - 1638 words
he's had longer nights.
You will never know just how beautiful you are to me.
-- “Wake Me Up” by Ed Sheeran
He’s had longer nights, but it’s still hard. A thousand miles away, someone’s waiting for him. One day, he’ll understand. One day, everyone will understand.
But for now, they all have to go through this: the initial phase, cold and lonely; the defensive phase, stubborn and painful; the silent phase, no words needed to show how much it all truly hurts. People don’t really feel pain until it’s over, until they’ve had a chance to breathe after waves of mind-numbing pain. That’s how it works.
It’s two AM and Yifan can’t sleep. He throws up because he’s bored. He flips through channels and attempts to crack his skull against the mattress. Screaming into a pillow inside his bathroom doesn’t satisfy his need to claw his soul out of his body.
Is it boredom? Is he bored of not being able to sleep, just like every single night since he made that decision to leave?
It’s probably because he woke up on that day long ago with the most painful sight in front of him: Joonmyun just smiling in his sleep. Nothing hurts more than seeing someone you love being happy but not wanting him to. It’s easier to leave when everyone’s miserable; the pain simply fades into what they’re already feeling.
It’s three AM. It’s starting to get repetitive. Then again, five months of insomnia would be pretty exhausting. He stares at the half-empty bottle of pills on the bedside table. Would it be worth it? His doctor told him that too much would be deadly for him, but a complete lack of sleep would be even worse, wouldn’t it?
The pills slide down his throat and he waits, stares at the ceiling and waits, closes his eyes and waits, thinks of his friends and waits.
The sound of Joonmyun’s laughter is a faint lullaby before it causes Yifan to cry, and then he just drifts away.
He feels sick when he wakes up. It’s as if a truck crashed against his chest and left him there, bleeding and cold. There’s warmth against his chest though, a mop of badly-dyed blond hair, a light snore every now and then. Joonmyun snores when he’s tired.
He’s always tired.
For a moment, Yifan wants to bask in this forever. He wants to wake Joonmyun up with a kiss, hear his laugh, allow himself to laugh too, kiss him again, tell him he loves him, and then tell him that he loves him again and again and again. But Joonmyun looks peaceful, he looks happy, he looks so different from how he looks when he’s awake; not tired, not upset, not frustrated at himself for choosing this path in life. He looks happy.
Yifan slides out of bed, careful to let Joonmyun’s head down gently on the pillow. It’s been a great night. It’s been his last great night, his last good night.
He leaves him a note saying, please hate me, because it’s better for him to be hated than for them both to suffer with this love.
It’s four AM. He should go before they wake up. He should go before Joonmyun wakes up. He should go before those brown eyes stare up at him and ask him where he’s going, why he’s leaving, what he’s planning, why is he leaving me, if he doesn't love me anymore, if all these years were lies, if he’s ever loved me at all.
Unnecessary questions, to be honest.
I’m going home. I can’t stand this life anymore. I’m planning to escape. I’m not leaving you. I love you. Not a single moment between us was a lie. I will always, always love you, then and now and until the end.
The end is still far away, Joonmyun. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about us.
He’s been all packed up before anyone could even notice. Slipping away is easy.
Yifan buries his face into the crook of someone’s neck, inhaling the musky scent of soap and sex. The person snores. It’s clearly Joonmyun.
He kisses the pale skin, pulling away to stare at the beautiful contours of Joonmyun’s face. Joonmyun doesn’t wake easily when he’s well-rested, and it’s nice to have some time to just appreciate Yifan’s everything. It’s cheesy and pathetic, but it’s the truth.
It’s cold outside. Yifan feels the chill seeping in from the cracks in the window, and their heater is just right but slightly lacking. Then again, there’s a good excuse to pull Joonmyun closer and share as much warmth as they can.
Joonmyun wakes with a smile, sliding his hand down to lace his fingers with Yifan. They smile when they remember their little rebellious display of affection last night, and others may just see it as two leaders randomly holding hands, but it’s their little declaration to the company that they’re not giving up just yet. Not yet.
“Good morning,” he whispers, kissing Yifan’s eyelid when it flutters slightly. The tall man laughs, doing the same to Joonmyun. His lips have pressed against every inch of his lover’s pale skin, pulled out every sound of pleasure from those beautiful lips, evoked tears of joy and sadness and anger and frustration from those shining eyes. Yifan knows Joonmyun inside and out, for years have shaped and molded this relationship of theirs.
“I’m sorry,” Yifan whispers.
“For what?” Joonmyun asks, still too sleepy to sound like he’s interrogating Yifan.
“For last night. We could have gotten in trouble if it was too much,” says Yifan. Joonmyun laughs a bit and lifts their clasped hands.
“Who cares?” Joonmyun grins and leans up to kiss Yifan. He whispers sweet nothings against his skin, and they roll around for a little longer before Yifan looks up and sees the alarm clock blinking angrily at him.
It’s five AM. They should be starting their day by now.
“We have a long day ahead of us. I should shower-”
“No,” Joonmyun interrupts. “Let’s stay in bed, please. Amsterdam is beautiful, but this is nice too.” Joonmyun’s grinning, tugging Yifan down when he still tries to resist.
“Sleep now, explore later?” asks Yifan.
“Yes, please.” They settle back down into their first positions, Yifan with his head against Joonmyun’s chest. Sleep pulls him back in, and Yifan allows himself to drift away.
Yifan wakes up to wet lips against his chest, a sinful tongue occasionally slipping out to cause a sensation to ripple all over Yifan’s body. He’s shaking with how good it feels, the endless attention being paid to his already overheated skin. Yifan looks down and sees Kim Joonmyun, that one trainee who he didn’t talk to much, sucking down his chest and closer to his already naked dick. Well.
“What’s going on?” Yifan asks with a moan, gripping the sheets when Joonmyun sucks a mark against his hipbone.
“You passed out,” Joonmyun answers quietly.
“Why exactly did I pass out?”
Joonmyun smirks. “Because the sex was that good.”
Yifan laughs, moaning when Joonmyun takes him into his hands. Joonmyun grins and climbs back up, sliding his arms around Yifan’s neck and kissing him hard. They kiss sloppily and laugh and Joonmyun leaves a welt of red with a scratch down Yifan’s chest and Yifan bites his bottom lip aggressively and they’re still laughing, still not believing that this is real.
“Fuck, we’re so drunk, aren’t we?” Yifan utters out when Joonmyun finally gives him some space to breathe. Joonmyun laughs again, and he dips down to kiss Yifan again. They’re gentle now, libido finally slowing down to make them feel how tired and sated they really are. Joonmyun slides down beside Yifan and grins against his collarbones.
“Good night,” he murmurs, and Yifan grunts a reply. He’s busy staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until they have to wake up and go to training again.
It’s six AM. How they’re still awake at this time, Yifan’s never going to actually know. What matters is the gentle way Joonmyun snores against his skin and pulls him closer, a leg slung over his thighs.
It’s so sudden, the way Yifan’s heart floods with fondness. He’s so lost, so scared to simply let this person in. It’s so easy to be attracted to someone; is it nearly as easy to live with the constant fear of getting hurt?
Then again, what does he actually know? He’s just a tall kid hoping to be famous one day to do something different with his life. What does he know about love? Why does he even think this is going to be anything more than a drunken one-very-early-morning stand?
He closes his eyes, listens to Joonmyun’s snoring, and prays that this will be different. He doesn’t know when it happens, but he slips into his fantasies until they melt into his dreams.
“It’s seven AM and it’s my only break day. Who is this?”
“Joonmyun.”
“…”
“Joonmyun.”
“Yifan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m going back to sleep.”
“I love you.”
“…”
“I’m sorry. I love you.”
“…”
“…”
“… I miss you too. Let’s meet up one day.”
“Get some rest, Joonmyun.”
“I love you too.”
Yifan waits for Joonmyun to hang up. He wants him to take the lead now, wants him to do what he wants since it was Yifan who made the first step to separate them. He wants Joonmyun to take the first steps back together.
He’s had longer days, but he knows this will be better. His phone lights up to alert him of a new message, and he doesn’t need to look at it to know it’s Joonmyun. He feels his smile against his chest, feels his laugher rumble against his back, hears his voice telling him to be brave and to be strong.
It’s going to be another long day, but this will definitely be better.
kris/suho - nc-17 - angst - 1638 words
he's had longer nights.
You will never know just how beautiful you are to me.
-- “Wake Me Up” by Ed Sheeran
He’s had longer nights, but it’s still hard. A thousand miles away, someone’s waiting for him. One day, he’ll understand. One day, everyone will understand.
But for now, they all have to go through this: the initial phase, cold and lonely; the defensive phase, stubborn and painful; the silent phase, no words needed to show how much it all truly hurts. People don’t really feel pain until it’s over, until they’ve had a chance to breathe after waves of mind-numbing pain. That’s how it works.
It’s two AM and Yifan can’t sleep. He throws up because he’s bored. He flips through channels and attempts to crack his skull against the mattress. Screaming into a pillow inside his bathroom doesn’t satisfy his need to claw his soul out of his body.
Is it boredom? Is he bored of not being able to sleep, just like every single night since he made that decision to leave?
It’s probably because he woke up on that day long ago with the most painful sight in front of him: Joonmyun just smiling in his sleep. Nothing hurts more than seeing someone you love being happy but not wanting him to. It’s easier to leave when everyone’s miserable; the pain simply fades into what they’re already feeling.
It’s three AM. It’s starting to get repetitive. Then again, five months of insomnia would be pretty exhausting. He stares at the half-empty bottle of pills on the bedside table. Would it be worth it? His doctor told him that too much would be deadly for him, but a complete lack of sleep would be even worse, wouldn’t it?
The pills slide down his throat and he waits, stares at the ceiling and waits, closes his eyes and waits, thinks of his friends and waits.
The sound of Joonmyun’s laughter is a faint lullaby before it causes Yifan to cry, and then he just drifts away.
He feels sick when he wakes up. It’s as if a truck crashed against his chest and left him there, bleeding and cold. There’s warmth against his chest though, a mop of badly-dyed blond hair, a light snore every now and then. Joonmyun snores when he’s tired.
He’s always tired.
For a moment, Yifan wants to bask in this forever. He wants to wake Joonmyun up with a kiss, hear his laugh, allow himself to laugh too, kiss him again, tell him he loves him, and then tell him that he loves him again and again and again. But Joonmyun looks peaceful, he looks happy, he looks so different from how he looks when he’s awake; not tired, not upset, not frustrated at himself for choosing this path in life. He looks happy.
Yifan slides out of bed, careful to let Joonmyun’s head down gently on the pillow. It’s been a great night. It’s been his last great night, his last good night.
He leaves him a note saying, please hate me, because it’s better for him to be hated than for them both to suffer with this love.
It’s four AM. He should go before they wake up. He should go before Joonmyun wakes up. He should go before those brown eyes stare up at him and ask him where he’s going, why he’s leaving, what he’s planning, why is he leaving me, if he doesn't love me anymore, if all these years were lies, if he’s ever loved me at all.
Unnecessary questions, to be honest.
I’m going home. I can’t stand this life anymore. I’m planning to escape. I’m not leaving you. I love you. Not a single moment between us was a lie. I will always, always love you, then and now and until the end.
The end is still far away, Joonmyun. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about us.
He’s been all packed up before anyone could even notice. Slipping away is easy.
Yifan buries his face into the crook of someone’s neck, inhaling the musky scent of soap and sex. The person snores. It’s clearly Joonmyun.
He kisses the pale skin, pulling away to stare at the beautiful contours of Joonmyun’s face. Joonmyun doesn’t wake easily when he’s well-rested, and it’s nice to have some time to just appreciate Yifan’s everything. It’s cheesy and pathetic, but it’s the truth.
It’s cold outside. Yifan feels the chill seeping in from the cracks in the window, and their heater is just right but slightly lacking. Then again, there’s a good excuse to pull Joonmyun closer and share as much warmth as they can.
Joonmyun wakes with a smile, sliding his hand down to lace his fingers with Yifan. They smile when they remember their little rebellious display of affection last night, and others may just see it as two leaders randomly holding hands, but it’s their little declaration to the company that they’re not giving up just yet. Not yet.
“Good morning,” he whispers, kissing Yifan’s eyelid when it flutters slightly. The tall man laughs, doing the same to Joonmyun. His lips have pressed against every inch of his lover’s pale skin, pulled out every sound of pleasure from those beautiful lips, evoked tears of joy and sadness and anger and frustration from those shining eyes. Yifan knows Joonmyun inside and out, for years have shaped and molded this relationship of theirs.
“I’m sorry,” Yifan whispers.
“For what?” Joonmyun asks, still too sleepy to sound like he’s interrogating Yifan.
“For last night. We could have gotten in trouble if it was too much,” says Yifan. Joonmyun laughs a bit and lifts their clasped hands.
“Who cares?” Joonmyun grins and leans up to kiss Yifan. He whispers sweet nothings against his skin, and they roll around for a little longer before Yifan looks up and sees the alarm clock blinking angrily at him.
It’s five AM. They should be starting their day by now.
“We have a long day ahead of us. I should shower-”
“No,” Joonmyun interrupts. “Let’s stay in bed, please. Amsterdam is beautiful, but this is nice too.” Joonmyun’s grinning, tugging Yifan down when he still tries to resist.
“Sleep now, explore later?” asks Yifan.
“Yes, please.” They settle back down into their first positions, Yifan with his head against Joonmyun’s chest. Sleep pulls him back in, and Yifan allows himself to drift away.
Yifan wakes up to wet lips against his chest, a sinful tongue occasionally slipping out to cause a sensation to ripple all over Yifan’s body. He’s shaking with how good it feels, the endless attention being paid to his already overheated skin. Yifan looks down and sees Kim Joonmyun, that one trainee who he didn’t talk to much, sucking down his chest and closer to his already naked dick. Well.
“What’s going on?” Yifan asks with a moan, gripping the sheets when Joonmyun sucks a mark against his hipbone.
“You passed out,” Joonmyun answers quietly.
“Why exactly did I pass out?”
Joonmyun smirks. “Because the sex was that good.”
Yifan laughs, moaning when Joonmyun takes him into his hands. Joonmyun grins and climbs back up, sliding his arms around Yifan’s neck and kissing him hard. They kiss sloppily and laugh and Joonmyun leaves a welt of red with a scratch down Yifan’s chest and Yifan bites his bottom lip aggressively and they’re still laughing, still not believing that this is real.
“Fuck, we’re so drunk, aren’t we?” Yifan utters out when Joonmyun finally gives him some space to breathe. Joonmyun laughs again, and he dips down to kiss Yifan again. They’re gentle now, libido finally slowing down to make them feel how tired and sated they really are. Joonmyun slides down beside Yifan and grins against his collarbones.
“Good night,” he murmurs, and Yifan grunts a reply. He’s busy staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until they have to wake up and go to training again.
It’s six AM. How they’re still awake at this time, Yifan’s never going to actually know. What matters is the gentle way Joonmyun snores against his skin and pulls him closer, a leg slung over his thighs.
It’s so sudden, the way Yifan’s heart floods with fondness. He’s so lost, so scared to simply let this person in. It’s so easy to be attracted to someone; is it nearly as easy to live with the constant fear of getting hurt?
Then again, what does he actually know? He’s just a tall kid hoping to be famous one day to do something different with his life. What does he know about love? Why does he even think this is going to be anything more than a drunken one-very-early-morning stand?
He closes his eyes, listens to Joonmyun’s snoring, and prays that this will be different. He doesn’t know when it happens, but he slips into his fantasies until they melt into his dreams.
“It’s seven AM and it’s my only break day. Who is this?”
“Joonmyun.”
“…”
“Joonmyun.”
“Yifan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m going back to sleep.”
“I love you.”
“…”
“I’m sorry. I love you.”
“…”
“…”
“… I miss you too. Let’s meet up one day.”
“Get some rest, Joonmyun.”
“I love you too.”
Yifan waits for Joonmyun to hang up. He wants him to take the lead now, wants him to do what he wants since it was Yifan who made the first step to separate them. He wants Joonmyun to take the first steps back together.
He’s had longer days, but he knows this will be better. His phone lights up to alert him of a new message, and he doesn’t need to look at it to know it’s Joonmyun. He feels his smile against his chest, feels his laugher rumble against his back, hears his voice telling him to be brave and to be strong.
It’s going to be another long day, but this will definitely be better.