[C91] I THINK I'M IN A TRAGEDY (2/2)
Prompt Code: C91
Title: I Think I'm In A Tragedy
It's past seven already, and Kyungsoo should be getting up, but he's so comfortable right now. The sun glows softly on the side of his face, the sheets are soft and so is the world around him.
The fine slope of his nose, the long lashes hiding his warm eyes, the gentle acne on his skin, it all looked softly luminent in the morning light...
When he woke up, the voice had been speaking. He doesn't know if he woke up from that or if it's just a coincidence. He doesn't care either. Like this, he doesn't feel attacked or invaded like he used to, when the deep voice is like rustling waves, alliterating softly. Privately, he thinks.
He doesn't mind it like this, when it's just the two of them. If he was fully awake, that thought would've never made it to the surface, but now Kyungsoo just yawns until his jaw pops and reluctantly rolls out of bed.
At 8:30, he stands ready for another appointment, nerves still simmering beneath the surface. He succeeds in keeping them off his face, though. As he walks to meet the elderly woman, he reminds himself of the tricks he's used the past few weeks. Try to ease the stress with a lighter view on things; joke internally. Breathe deeply. Don't build the other up to this untouchable entity. Let's see if you're worthy of adopting my children, Kyungsoo thinks challengingly, regarding the elderly woman.
"You're not out of money trouble yet," Baekhyun tells him later, "but if you keep going like you did the past weeks, I might let you build that chicken coop."
"So, any development?" Yifan asks as he puts a huge plate of pastries between them.
"Not really," Kyungsoo frowns, "I still have no idea why this guy would write a story about me. There seems to be no central plot."
"Hmmm. And genre-wise?"
"Right now I'm almost thinking absurdism. It's like a character study, but why would he do a study on someone like me? It must be to show the pointlessness of life, surely."
"Soo! Your character is just as interesting as the next guy's," Yifan berates him even if he's laughing. "And how are you holding up? Last time we spoke, this guy was annoying the hell out of you."
"Yeah, he's a little shit," Kyungsoo huffs. "But… I've more or less gotten… used to it? Like, the fact that he's present doesn't bother me so much anymore." He feels his ears burn a little as he admits to this.
Yifan grimaces. "I guess that's good. Or not?"
"I have no idea anymore to be honest."
"Hey!" Yifan suddenly perks up with pink cheeks. "Sorry for the topic switch, but can you try this muffin? It'll be my submission for the National Baking Competition finale."
"Wow, still so busy with that," Kyungsoo muses as he takes the muffin and nearly dies at the first bite. Yifan is a wizard, he swears.
"Of course, it's a huge honour, not to mention winning would be a great promo."
Kyungsoo walks towards the bus stop with a bag full of muffins and a huge bag of cat litter. He's listening to the birds and imitating their whistles.
The air was filled with the crisp crumbling of dead leaves under people's feet. Autumn was steadily reaching its peak, and Kyungsoo wore a sweet, childlike smile as he trudged through the colourful streets.
"I know what you're implying, and I'm not cute," Kyungsoo mumbled under his breath.
The narrator sounds exceptionally cheerful today, and Kyungsoo wonders if he likes autumn as well. His voice sounds like one of the birds chirping in the trees and he blends in naturally with Kyungsoo's surroundings. Would his voice get higher if he's happy?
As Kyungsoo waited for the 97 bus, he skipped on his feet and whistled along with the birds. The sight of him caused the elderly woman sitting in the booth to smile.
He avoids looking at stranger's faces, so he hadn't noticed at all. Kyungsoo ducks his head and smiles at the ground.
Yifan ends up winning the competition, of course. He invites Kyungsoo to the award ceremony, along with their group of high school friends. They're always nice to him, but Kyungsoo doesn't really speak to those guys anymore.
Right now, Luhan, Jongdae and Minseok are skipping around the snack tables like rutting rabbits, trying anything and everything and Kyungsoo quickly grows tired of dribbling after them. He just stays standing, politely sipping champagne in his rented tux and looking around. They're in the banquet hall of a very fancy hotel, decorated with surprising grandeur. This must really be a big deal. Kyungsoo is so proud of Yifan. He's about to go on stage, looking absolutely dashing in his suit and tie, with his goofy grin trying to slip through the cracks of his professional smile.
It's all a bit intimidating, and he doesn't really know how to hold himself right now, in the hall buzzing with conversations of people that he doesn't know. The men and women around him all look so successful and take up so much space, he doesn't know how to fit between.
The hall was twinkling with lights; camera flashes, reflecting jewelry, shimmering crystal glass and gold chandeliers illuminating the room.
Between the somewhat deafening reverberations of the chatter, the voice sounds a private comment in his ear.
Kyungsoo looked completely striking under the golden glow of the chandeliers. He stood out like a white dot in a sea of grey, his honest features between the scathing smirks of food critics and bored eyerolls of the press like a white dove in a filthy city.
It's odd, he thinks, how he's the last person these words would ever be aimed at, given that the writer doesn't know he can hear them, or that he even exists, yet they still feel exclusively meant for him.
Kyungsoo soon caught sight of Jongdae's figure nearing him. He still sometimes felt slightly awkward with Jongdae, after that one night spent together in senior year. That had been an utter catastrophe.
Oh, no. Don't bring that up now, Kyungsoo thought, horrified.
When he's deep in thoughts, he enjoys how the other thinks with him, words his musings differently and gives them back to him, in a way he hadn't thought of himself. He likes sharing his thoughts with him.
When he's out and about, he loves listening to the mindful descriptions the other male gives of his surroundings, making him see and notice things he never did before, or took for granted. He likes when he walks by his side, invisibly.
When he is in need of energy or courage, he'll think of the snarky winks and embarrassing jabs and get fired up right away, wriggling on his feet at the thought of his wheezy laughter.
When he's overthinking again, nervous and with a small face, he calms himself to the thought of his jokes, lets his mind be infected with his lightheartedness.
When he's about to fall asleep on the couch or in bed, he feels warm as the soothing whispers wrap around him and cuddle him to sleep.
When the stranger talks about him, he likes to imagine the man who speaks of him so fondly, like he only has eyes for him. Likes to imagine his hands, soft or rough, and the mouth that shapes those nice words. He imagines his eyes, slitted or wide, but always warm as they look at him.
As much as he tries not to pay attention to this, it's becoming harder to escape the fact that he's looking forward to hearing this guy more and more. And it's getting harder to forget the thoughts he has when he's nearly asleep, and the nearly inaudible whisper he buries in his pillow one night.
"I like you best."
"Baekhyun, please, I don't want to, I don't even want a boyfriend!" Kyungsoo's high pitched voice travels down the street as he yanks his hand out of Baekhyun's.
"Yes, you do. I've seen you look at those Chris Hemsworth pictures on your phone." Baekhyun states undeterred, trying to pull him along again.
"How dare you! Punishing me for the mere needs of my flesh! I'm serious, Baek, I can go without this whole circus."
"Im serious too. Baekhyun comes at a stop too and grabs the other's shoulder. "Jimin is a nice guy, I've met him before. He'll go easy on you and I think you might like him. Don't worry too much, it's just a date."
When Baekhyun turns to pull him along again, Kyungsoo's face morphs into total panic. God, he really, really doesn't want to do this. He's been a bit unbalanced lately, with all the confusing feelings he's been experiencing ever since that narrator started talking about him. A small pit of worry is growing and he's just having an off few days, on top of still finding it hard to talk to strangers. Especially if they're not just clients, but he has to get to know them. Come off as nice. Be funny. Some days are better than others but this is definitely a bad day. But he should try, he should try sometimes.
Taehyung and Jimin are already there when they enter Yifan's café. Baekhyun decided on that location, thinking Kyungsoo might do better in a familiar setting. Like an anxious rabbit, Kyungsoo thinks bitterly. The two of them slide into the other side of the diner style booth, and when it doesn't look like Kyungsoo will make a move to introduce himself Baekhyun moves forward.
"Jimin, this is my friend Kyungsoo. Technically by boss, I do his finances and administration." Kyungsoo keeps his head down, afraid that Baekhyun will ridicule him somehow, but he doesn't. "And this is Jimin, Kyungsoo. He's one of Taehyung's closest friends."
"Nice to meet you," the guy says meekly. His voice is very soft and when Kyungsoo glances up for a second he sees black bangs, pretty lips and a light flush. He can see why they paired them up.
"N-nice to meet you," Kyungsoo copies, but he's not even sure if he can be heard above the chatter. He's shifting restlessly.
"So, um, Taehyung told me you run an animal shelter?" The guy's eyes were kind beneath his beanie.
"Yes." Come on, Kyungsoo, try. "For six years now."
"Wow, really? That's impressive. I just got a part time job as a dance teacher."
"Huh, ah, it's not impressive. Business is kinda bad actually." He squeezes his eyes shut afterwards because oh God, he is the worst conversation maker ever, why, why would he say that?
"O-oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it..." Jimin sounded hesitant, taken aback, probably because of the stiff, angry look on Kyungsoo's face.
"No, I- I'm…" Kyungsoo shakes his head, at a complete loss for words, and Baekhyun needs to help open conversation again.
Jimin honestly looks nice, and those friendly eyes make Kyungsoo feel all kinds of scrutinized. When would this guy realize he's not worth the effort of talking to?
Hey! He stops himself, don't be so negative.
But he can't help it as the conversation dies out again very quickly due to Kyungsoo's non-answers. Taehyung begins a story to Jimin about something that happened to their friends and Baekhyun make chit-chat with Yifan when he comes to take their order. He can see Yifan looking at him worriedly and he wishes he could get ripped from the conversation by a murderous eagle or something.
He doesn't talk and keeps his head down for the rest of their stay, refusing to think about anything at all as he traces the wooden veins on the tabletop with his eyes.
When the social situation finally allows him to leave he all but runs for the bus, slowly starting to feel more and more like shit as every bad thought he pushed down for the past hour creeps up on him now.
It wasn't even that he likes Jimin; he hardly knows him at all. He failed to carry a normal conversation for a few minutes, simply because he's incapable of it. He's too stupid to even do that. That guy had been nice, too. He probably thinks Kyungsoo is a horrible person. And why wouldn't he? He's not interesting, or funny, or exciting. He can't pretend to be any of those things, and beyond that there's nothing about him.
He feels annoyed at the tears burning beneath his eyelids, but he can't entirely keep them down. He doesn't look up the whole bus ride, and starts running towards his home again when he gets off.
It was actually so nice of Baekhyun and Taehyung to try and set him up with someone, and that made him feel like shit too because he hadn't thanked them once, he'd only whined and acted like a complete cock-up.
Kyungsoo was familiar with these kind of moods. He experienced them often as a teenager, and even in his adult life had struggled with it. But today he felt a little different. This didn't just feel like a regular dip.
He's glad that the voice only reaches his ears after he closes the door to the barn, because now he really can't stop his tears. The gentle, concerned tone is too much right now.
He slumps down and suddenly it's not about what just happened anymore. It's a bigger issue, a constant yearning, a gap he usually covers up.
...There was this thought, small but poignant...
Kyungsoo is mostly a man of simple needs. He loves his boring little life. It's the one he picked out for himself, and he'd been conscious of it when he did it. But sometimes he wondered about the choices he made. How many had not been out of want, but out of… fear.
...This thought he’d only allowed to fully form on certain days...
He wishes he didn't hold himself back so much. He likes staying inside with a book nine out of ten times, but he wishes that when the tenth time came around, he had the guts to go with his friends and let loose. Instead he remains in his spot and falls for a man who doesn't even know he exists.
...the life he built suddenly felt insufficient...
He lets out a little noise between the sobs because never before has he admitted that out loud. He feels pathetic, with the amount of attachment he has to a mere voice. How much comfort he gives him, how much he can challenge him, how content he makes him feel.
"Discontent..." he mutters.
He suddenly thinks back of the first words the other said to him. (About him, he reminds himself.) Could that have been his goal from the start? To show the unhappiness of a man with a small little life? That seemingly happy people carry a weight with them too? Of course, that would be all he is to this man. A means to tell something to his readers...
Kyungsoo suddenly notices the insistent meows asking for his attention. Looking up, he sees a kitten, not so small anymore but small enough to squirm out underneath the gate.
What he sees is one of the kittens from the nest. She's grown quite a lot, over two months old now. But still, she's small enough to squeeze her body through the gap underneath the gate and walk towards him.
The cat had large ears on a tiny head and a sandy-brown fur. Her eyes were sharp and foxy and she often used her tiny claws when playing with her sisters. But she'd taken a liking to Kyungsoo, just like he had to her. Baekhyun would be pissed so he hadn't said anything yet, but he had already fallen for her.
Kyungsoo can't help but smile a little as he coos at the little one to come closer. Even when he's the source of his problems, the narrator still manages to comfort him.
Little did he know that this small, seemingly innocuous act would lead to his imminent death.
The words register slowly, and he snaps his fingers once more before his arm freezes in midair.
The cat sniffs his fingers and a moment later starts licking at them contentedly.
"What?" Kyungsoo's teary eyes are looking up, and his hoarse voice cracks when he yells out. "Hey! Hey, what the hell was that!"
But the air is empty. Nothing returns to him. It's like any other afternoon. He stands up, balling his hands.
"Hey, come back! Come back! What's gonna happen! Why?"
Kyungsoo has never understood the frustration of cliffhangers like he does now. He'll never forgive this. What a shit.
"When?!"
Yifan's cellphone goes off just as he closes the shop up. He picks up immediately when he reads the caller ID. "Soo?"
The voice on the other end is muffled, unsteady breathing and watery noises clogging up the line.
"Yifan, I think I'm in a tragedy."
"Mr. Do. You can come in."
Kyungsoo nervously scrapes his throat as he walks in the office. It's filthy rich in here, situated in the middle of town.
The man in front of him wears gold-framed glasses. His hair is styled up in an elegant curl and he looks very stern. "So, I took this appointment because you are an acquaintance of Mr. Wu. I am quite fond of him, and I assure you I will do my best to help you. Let's get started, shall we?"
Kyungsoo tries not to let his distress show as he nods. He's been in a state of panic-induced rage ever since what Yifan has wisely been referring to as the incident. After weeping down the phone for a good amount of time, he'd been interrupted by Yifan, who said he just thought of something that might help them. Zhang Yixing is an accomplished publishing agent, and also the brother of Yifan's ex.
("You know, that one girl with the big tits?" "You know I don't look at that stuff." ‘that stuff…’ you don't know what you're missing. Anyway her brother and I were pretty close-" "Did he bang you." "We were pretty close.")
When Kyungsoo has answered his every question, trying to keep the shake out of his voice (anger, he thinks, definitely shakes of anger), Mr. Zhang leans back and says: "Unfortunately your description does not spark any knowledge in me, Mr. Do. I don't know of anyone currently writing a plot that resembles this one. And authors of the age and voice you describe are all too frequent in this business, I'm afraid."
After a brief pause, he continued. "However, I will try my best to find out anything that might help your case. It is truly fascinating. And that's the last thing he said? How evil to leave your readers hanging like that." He almost looks like he envies this author's' wit. "I'll look in the manuscript archive, as well as any manuscripts that are currently being handled by my colleagues. I'll get back to you as soon as possible, seeing how… matters are urgent."
Seeing how I could be dead tomorrow, Kyungsoo seethes internally. "Wonderful, sir. Thank you."
"I did have one favour to ask though." The older man suddenly leans forward again. "It's nothing much, but this one writer I am coaching… he's been suffering from writer's block. Nasty business that is. He's a damn good writer, but right now he is entirely insufferable. Won't tell me anything about the plot, refuses to set deadlines and demands I buy him all kinds of things to ‘spark his creativity’."
Kyungsoo politely nods along while yelling at the man in his head. These could be my last seconds, and I'll be spending them listening to your publisher sorrows, he wants to hiss.
"Anyway, the latest thing is wanting a dog… like he needs any more of those. Mr. Wu told me of your profession, so I figured you could maybe offer him your services? His name is Kim Jongin, I can give you his number."
"Yes, of course." He has to stop himself from rapping his nails against the desk. He wants to leave, even if he has no idea what he'll do when he's outside. He's been antsy like this since yesterday. All he wants is to find this guy, show him he's real, that he's alive, for now at least.
Then he can finally go and he's already thinking about where to search next. Online some more? In the library to search for some sort of writer's guild? To Starbucks, to peep at every bearded hipster's computer screen? Oh, Lord.
Kyungsoo mopes through the house after an unsuccessful night of watching interviews with writers in an attempt to find the voice. The feeling that it's all useless grows a little stronger every hour, but he ignores it because it's not like thoughts like that will help him.
That book publisher might be able to help him though, so even if he does not want to meet with Zhang Yixing's spoiled little prodigy, Baekhyun arranged a meeting for this morning. The dreary climate outside matches his mood and he wonders if it'll rain today.
Baekhyun apologizes profusely for the disaster that was his date. "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard." Kyungsoo has never told him about the narrator, so he doesn't know the real reason behind his flighty mood. He tells him it's okay, but doesn't elaborate, and tells him to send the visitor to the barn when he arrives. The sooner he's done with this, the better.
What bothers him is that he hasn't heard anything since that ominous announcement two days ago. What's happening in the silence? Is something being cooked up?
Kim Jongin is sure taking a long time to show up, so Kyungsoo starts up his health inspection. He notices a cough on one of the rabbits. He's an old guy, and Kyungsoo knows he'll never sell him again because he misses an ear, just like he'll never sell Hunnie because he hisses at anyone who isn't Kyungsoo.
He's digging through the medicine cabinet when the barn door opens on the other side of the room.
"Hello, sir! Gosh, I'm so sorry I'm late, I was walking in the park to think through some final details when suddenly I had the best idea. I just had to write it down, you know, things like that will fly away again. Excuse me, sir? Can you hear me?"
He sounds so unusually grounded, ringing through the room, impacting the air in a way he's never heard it do before, and it takes Kyungsoo a second to click it together.
It's a nice voice, warm, smooth and airy. The familiarity almost hurts, but Kyungsoo still whips around like he needs to confirm it, like there's any doubt.
The man in front of him stutters and stops in his steps when he catches sight of him, and both stare at each other, completely stunned.
Kyungsoo's brain is short-circuiting and he can only string together short thoughts.
He's here. He's so tall. What will he say. There's so much gold in his skin. This man wrote my death.
Then the draught ruffles through the man's hair, and his lips part, and the time starts passing again.
"Kyungsoo?" Jongin asks.
He looks like he can barely believe what's coming out of his mouth.
"Yes." Kyungsoo licks his lips. He's light-headed. "I'm Kyungsoo. Your name is Kim Jongin, right? I believe you're writing a book about me."
Jongin looks like he wants to faint when he hears him speak. "Oh, my God," he breathes. "Oh, my God, your voice."
"You see, I've been hearing you. From the start, I think. About three months ago? That's when you started writing?" Kyungsoo takes a step forward, and Jongin's eyes flit down to his legs.
"Oh, my God," he says again, "your pants."
"I don't think I heard everything you wrote, but definitely the most of it. And, you know, I also happened to listen to this part, about me, dying, I guess."
Kyungsoo sounds as offhandedly as he would ordering a pizza, but his feet betray him. They keep walking closer to Jongin, like he's a magnet, irresistible, and he stops in front of him.
Jongin's eyes are still wide, but his limitless shock seems to have been replaced by equally limitless fascination. Kyungsoo can't decipher whether he's heard a word of what he just said, but before he can open his mouth again the other's hands are lifting and he just sort of holds them in front of his face.
Kyungsoo discovers that they are, in fact, standing very close when he looks into the others' eyes. For a second, he finds himself just as entranced as the man before him.
He can see the things a voice hadn't been able to tell him. Jongin is definitely a few years younger than Kyungsoo, the boyish wonder on his face emphasizing this. His hair is dyed a fashionable mocha brown and a few freckles of the same colour dot his nose and cheeks. For all his imagining, Kyungsoo never would have guessed he looked like this. He just looks so… real.
When hands are suddenly touching his skin, they're bigger than he expected. They're probably big enough to cover his whole face, and Jongin seems to marvel at that or something else as he runs a single finger over the line of his bangs, down his hairline, the other resting somewhere between neck and shoulder.
There's infinite intimacy in the gesture, and Kyungsoo startles out of whatever reverie he's in.
"I want to ask you not to kill me," he rushes out. Jongin jumps at his loud voice, hands flying back like he was burnt.
"W-what?" Jongin runs a hand through his hair, and Kyungsoo didn't expect him to be this surprised, like he suddenly started speaking Arabic.
"I've been looking for you, ever since you said that. I want to ask you not to kill me, because… I exist. Could you do that, please?"
Jongin is a little hunched over, looking like he has some trouble breathing.
He shakes his head, eyes glazed. "I… I don't know."
"You don't know. You don't know if you can let me live." Kyungsoo repeats flatly.
"No, I… K-Kyungsoo-" he looks like saying that name baffles his brain- "This… It's a lot to take in. I need to- think."
"To think about if you wanna kill me or not." Kyungsoo feels something bubble up inside. "You think we're in Sex and The City or something? You can't just write whatever you want and roll the credits, shove me around like you're playing chess, this is my fucking life. Who do you think you are to come here, dig into my memories like a fucking Tumblr tag, planning to publish my every thought and then dispose of me when you've had your worth out of it?"
Jongin looks at him helplessly, eyebrows furrowed above his big, shining eyes. Kyungsoo wants to hit him in the face. He's never been this angry before.
"How dare you say you need time when you can type the life out of me any second for all I know? You let me deal with the embarrassment of falling in love with a goddamn voice when all I am to you is your next novel. You let me beat myself up for being so stupid, so stupid that I hope you might be the one to make my life less empty. But sure, take all the time you need. And don't worry about letting me know, I'll figure it out when I'm dead on the floor." He smiles sarcastically, feeling a tear roll down with the motion.
His hands shake when he grabs his coat from the table. Not looking anywhere, he makes way to the door.
"Wait," Jongin lets out. He hasn't moved from his spot. His face is frozen and unreadable.
"Close the door on your way out," Kyungsoo's footsteps are loud on the concrete before he slams the door and feels the rain blow in his face.
A week passes. He stays alive.
It's a wrecked week, and Kyungsoo spends the most of it dramatically floating around in misery.
Kyungsoo doubts the other will still write his death. If he knows him even a little, he won't be so heartless after meeting him and seeing him in the flesh. He can be annoying but that doesn't mean he's the Light Yagami type who kills people for his 'greater good.' But he can't help but be nervous because some writers are weird as fuck and what if he's all wrong about him? Not to mention that Kyungsoo yelled at him in front of an audience of tiny animals.
Kyungsoo doesn't know if he would take back the way he reacted, but he knows at least some of it was unwarranted. He's not sure how much you can know about someone when you've only known him as a voice always speaking about something other than himself, but as far as he was able to judge, Jongin hadn't meant ill with how he acted. He had most likely just been overwhelmed. Half the crimes Kyungsoo had accused him of had probably sounded completely foreign in his ears. They had both been too occupied with their own astonishment, he figured, and there had been no room for empathy. Not from his side either. Though he definitely had a right to be miffed, he regrets running out. There were still so many questions unanswered.
It's enough, he decides. A week is more than enough cooldown time for the both of them. When he gets home, he'll dial the number mr. Zhang gave him and ask to meet up.
His feet start walking with more resolve as they lead him out of the city park, until he suddenly stops in his tracks.
As if his decision summoned him, Kim Jongin is sitting on one of the park benches. He's wearing a long brown trench coat that's opened to show some sort of expensive sweater. He really is handsome, with his mocha hair framing his ears and face as he bends forward to hand-feed some doves.
Kyungsoo can't help but feel slight satisfaction because he's the one studying the other without their knowledge this time. Soon enough, however, he steps up and sits down next to the other.
"You should be careful when you feed those; they carry diseases," he says, awkwardly.
Jongin's breath hitches and he looks at Kyungsoo like a startled bunny. Kyungsoo wants to smile but he figures he better gets down to business.
"I wanted to talk to you," he says quickly. "I want to apologize for the way I treated you." Let's start with the easy part, he thinks, sighing internally. When an apology is the easy part of a conversation, you know it's not gonna be easy at all.
Jongin is still a little tense, but he looks much less disturbed because of Kyungsoo's general existence than a week ago. Still, the words register slowly, and he blinks stupidly a few times before saying: "Oh! No, no. You don't have to. You were right."
"I know I don't." And yes, I was right, thank you very much, he adds internally. "But I want to. I have had a while to get used to this idea, and I was still very freaked out. It must've been like getting buried in an avalanche. And I didn't make things better. So I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry, Kyungsoo!" Jongin throws back. Kyungsoo notices he still hesitates when saying his name, but he doesn't look at Kyungsoo like he's grown a second head anymore. "I've been wanting to visit your house this whole week, I want to talk, to apologize. I was the most inconsiderate jerk. It's just, all this time I considered you my character, and suddenly that whole idea shattered when it turned out you were a human. I acted like an idiot, I ignored what you tried to tell me, and I'm just- sorry."
Kyungsoo wasn't seeking for any apology, but he has to admit it feels very good, like a balm to the sore spot he was left with. But he also wants to cheer Jongin up, because he pouted like an infant and his voice sounds like an injured puppy's, and it has even more of an effect on him when it happens in person.
"Okay, let's be done with that now. I've been meaning to ask you something else." Kyungsoo thinks of how to go about this, but he's too scared to flat out ask 'are you still gonna kill me.' So he takes a detour.
"I've always wondered… your story about me, it never seemed to have a central lesson or fixed premise. And I just wonder, what is going to be the meaning behind it?"
"Oh." Jongin looks equal parts uncomfortable, excited and fascinated to talk about this with him. "Well- this might get weird okay? As in I'll describe your life as a plot point, or a character arc."
"Yeah, sure, go ahead, I've discussed it that way with Yifan countless of times anyways. But can I guess? Was the story by any chance about showing my unhappiness? Like, my discontentment, was that the theme?"
Jongin seems to fascinated by that first part for whatever reason, but he doesn't dig into it. "Well, yes, partially. After that breakdown at the café you were gonna reach a bit of a low point, you see, and that would get you thinking about everything you didn't like about your life. The discontentment would come out, so to say, and you wouldn't be able to hide."
Kyungsoo keeps his face carefully blank as he nods at him to go on.
"But then, from there, I would build towards this arc. You were slowly going to make some changes, make your life more like the life you wanted it to be. And it wouldn't be anything grand, I don't think that would fit, but just some small things. Reaching out a little bit more. Asking your friends for help. Opening up about your feelings. Maybe discover some new passion, like… heavy metal, or playing piano, whatever. And your life would slowly fill with more little fun things."
Jongin starts doing these little gestures the more he gets into it, a spark showing up in his eyes that was very endearing.
"And when the arc is complete, you would've learned to love yourself. You would've learned that it doesn't matter what you fill your life with, it's about how you feel about these things. And that's where real contentment comes from."
Jongin looks at him suddenly. "That kitten… did you name her yet?"
"Yes." Kyungsoo gulps. "Yeri."
"Okay, so one day you would realize hasn't come to eat her breakfast. You would start a search, walking down the road next to your house until you arrived at those crossroads, the busy ones? Yeah, and you'd see her there, somewhere in the middle between the cars, and the bad thing would be that when she sees you she panics and starts running towards you. And you'd panick too, seeing her tiny body in between all those cars and run straight at her. And yes, of course, then you'd get hit by a car."
Kyungsoo's face is pulled tight with tension as Jongin tells him about a death he might soon die, but at that last part he jumps up.
"And then I'd die? You total jackass! That's the most useless death ever! How dare you!" He starts hitting Jongin's arm in frustration.
"Ow, Kyungsoo, no it's not like that! It was gonna show that you died being completely yourself, I was gonna write it as a message to stay true to who you are-"
"By having me DIE?"
"The end result would've been really emotional!" Jongin laughs, grabbing his wrists and ending the battle.
Kyungsoo gulps and pauses. Ask him now, he urges himself. But it's not an easy thing to do.
"So..." his voice cracks a little. "Will you still be writing that ending?"
Jongin looks at him in confusion for a second. He's still holding his wrists.
"What, this ending? Of course not."
Kyungsoo looks back, and suddenly he feels how tight the strings of tension in his stomach are pulled. Only now that he can let them veer, if he dares to.
"But… It's your story. Don't you have a need to finish it? What if it's the literary masterpiece of the century?"
"What?" Jongin repeats. "Kyungsoo, I have writer's block. Everything I write is shit. This was the most inspiration I've had in a year and it was gonna be average at best. Did you honestly think I'm enough of a narcissist to knowingly kill someone for the sake of my shitty C-level fiction? That I'd even be able to write another syllable about you, knowing it has a real impact on someone's life? That I was gonna give up on you for the sake of a profession? Kyungsoo, you mean much more to me than that. So much more."
Kyungsoo's eyes are owlish, and Jongin thinks it looks adorable as he slides his hands up to intertwine his fingers with the shorters' instead.
"W-what are y-you… wh..what does that..." fuck his stuttering, he thinks furiously. Why does it never show up when he's ordering a pizza or whatever and only when he desperately needs the answer to something.
"Ah yes, that's another reason I wanted to talk to you." Jongin starts blushing. "Last week in the barn, you kind of yelled at me that you are in love with me. And… I've been wanting to tell you that-" Jongin's smile is small but it beams with the power of the sun- "I feel the same."
He's looking into his eyes, nearly on Kyungsoo's lap, both their hands intertwined on their legs, and it's not like he's being subtle but Kyungsoo is still so stunned, so busy getting lost in this face so close to his. He only notices the impending downpour when suddenly the sky breaks open with a loud crack of thunder.
"Oh," Kyungsoo says blankly. "I think it's going to rain."
"I think so too," Jongin murmurs, looking at his lips.
"You wanna come over for tea?" Kyungsoo does not feel ready to let Jongin go, but he's not ready to do this now either. Not to mention they are in public, and he's still a private person.
"What?" Jongin's eyes are big when they look up.
And maybe it also amuses him to tease this puppy-like adult. "Tea. At my place. We can catch the bus if we hurry."
"Do you have a cat named Hunnie?"
"Yes, he's my darling." Kyungsoo smiles over his tea.
"Did you smoke weed in high school?"
"Um, no."
"Really? How about strawberry daiquiris? I remember you taking those when..."
"My girlfriend dumped me, yeah. Please don't start again."
"Did you ever screw Yifan?"
"EW! Please. Do not. Do not EVER say that to me again."
"Ha-haa, I'm kidding. I'd be surprised, really."
"Hmmph."
"…did you ever try bondage?"
"Asxhjkslgl."
"Oh, my God, you did? I was totally joking!"
Kyungsoo is beet red above his tea. "Hate," he groans, "so much hate."
Jongin laughs that horrible dying seal laugh, sitting with ankles crossed in Kyungsoo's kitchen chair.
"You know, it's weird." Jongin suddenly looks thoughtful. "There are some traits I totally imagined you to have, whether I've written them or not. And other sides of you are so new, like I never could've imagined."
"Doesn't that make sense, though? I mean, you can't have thought through everything."
Jongin shakes his head contemplatively. "But that's not it. It's just… like this, in front of me, you're just much more… complete than I ever could have imagined you to be. I mean, I know I'm supposed to have created you and all, but the more I look back on it, the more it feels like you've been here all along, and you just started whispering into my ear at some point. The way I wrote you… I mean, I did my best, but looking at you now I really only wrote the shadow of you, and only now I'm starting to see what the sun has been shining on."
Kyungsoo's heart swells from the way Jongin looks at him, and he wishes there wasn't a kitchen table in between them.
Jongin sticks around. It had been past dinnertime when they met in the park and it's long since gone dark outside. They move to the couch at one point, and keep getting closer to each other as their voices fill the silence, fill in any gaps between them until they feel so close to each other they breathe in the same rhythm.
"Jongin, I've been wondering…" Kyungsoo murmurs. He allowed Jongin to pull him in close, curled into his side with his legs in his lap. Jongin hums in acknowledgement, playing with their fingers. "I asked before, what the theme of your story was, but there is something else I don't get." He's quickly finding out how much of a toucher Jongin is. Now that he's allowed to, he hasn't really stopped touching Kyungsoo at all. "What made you write a story about me? Me and Yifan, we talked about this. We couldn't understand the premise or the thought behind the story, because there just wasn't anything literary about my life. Yet you wrote this whole story based on my character. What made you do it?"
He feels so comfortable talking to Jongin. Usually, it takes years for someone to get to this point. But Jongin has known some of his deepest thoughts from the start, and in a way, he'd known his through the personality that showed in his writing. He supposes it helps.
"Well, you know I have writer's block." Jongin's nose rests in his hair, and breath slightly hits his forehead with every word. "I've had problems writing on and off, but it's been sticking around for a year this time. The problem with me is that I can only write well with the aid of inspiration bursts. If I'm inspired, I can plan out an entire novel in a day and work systematically after that. But now that writing has become my profession, there's been this pressure on my inspiration that causes it to clam up. And I've been finding it very hard to let go and let inspiration find me again.
But there was an idea slowly forming, an idea of this one character who did not need much at all and gave great love and care to those around him. But beneath the man with the small wishes there was this one need, non-specified but positively burning, a general need for more.That contradiction was very appealing to me, but even more so was the idea that this character was of a pure honesty. Undeniably himself, hard-working, sincere, but still flawed in the most precise of ways. That's what drew me in really, what I saw as the core of this character's' personality. So I just started writing blindly, just trying to build a world and discover this man's daily life."
Kyungsoo has his eyes closed as Jongin speaks, and it's almost like before they met as he hears the pleasant boom close to his ears. Only it's so much better with an arm around his waist and his fingers in a gentle hold.
"I don't think anyone has ever told me something so sweet before," he mumbles, not knowing what else to say.
"I'll tell you sweet things more," Jongin replies easily. After a beat he picks up again.
"I thought about you all the time." His voice is a low mumble. "Even when I wasn't writing, I would be thinking about how you might feel about something, or what you would be doing if you were there with me. I never thought of it as romance, because I'm not quite big enough of a narcissist to write a character meant to seduce me. But when I met you in real life, I started realizing more and more that it really was romance. That's one of the reasons I acted like I did that time. All those feelings were coming at me at once."
He likes the way the storm outside fills the gentle silence. "But Jongin, you need to know I'm not just your character. Can you imagine how sad you would feel, thinking that all your thoughts and your achievements are just something made up for you by someone else? That you can't have anything else beside what is written for you on the two dimensional paper." He thinks Jongin knows this already, but he needs to emphasize it, stress how important this is for him.
"I know that, Kyungsoo." The reply is just as expected. "How could you be something only made by ink and paper? The thought alone saddens me. Of course, it might take some time to get rid of seeing you as my male lead, but as I said earlier too, I could never imagine you as you are now, alive and tangible and complete."
"Are you sure? Sure you can forget about me as a character and think of me as a human?"
"Without a doubt."
And when the last bus has long since rid his course, both of them silently summoning the time tables in their mind, Kyungsoo asks: "Do you wanna spend the night?"
Jongin's hand is running up and down his thigh, in a strangely chaste fashion, and he nods with his eyes closed.
And when they crawl into bed in a T-shirt and underwear, Kyungsoo doesn't hesitate to scoot right into Jongin's embrace.
And he only spends a minute with his face tucked under Jongin's chin before he's physically incapable to wait any longer and moves up to press their lips together in the dark. Jongin's breathing is soft and his chest is warm, and he doesn't know how long they lay there and do this but when they pull back the warmth of Jongin's hands on him has spread all the way to his toes.
Jongin presses another kiss to his lips, and it's so soft that Kyungsoo doesn't need the whisper of "I love you" that follows. But it's still nice to hear, he thinks, and he kisses Jongin's chest as he says: "I love you too."
Jongin hums and pulls him impossibly closer, breathes him in. For a while, they give the other sleepy kisses on any spot within easy reach, until Kyungsoo gets too tired and it's just Jongin. His warm breath and soft lips his last memory, and his last thought: he doesn't think he's in a comedy, a romance, a feel-good novel. This whole endeavor does not fit a genre. This is stranger than fiction.