I can live with your ghost if you say that's the most I'll get → for xiyings (1/2)
Title: I can live with your ghost if you say that's the most I'll get
Recipient: xiyings
Pairing(s): Minseok/Jongdae, past!Minseok/Luhan, slight!Joonmyun/Jongin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Luhan is as dead as a doorknob, Yifan is mentioned several times and Baekhyun is not gay (surprise)
Word count: 18,123 words
Summary: Minseok finds it hard to breathe when he's in so much pain and Jongdae tries to save him.
Sun rays reflect off the surface of the water and the light sea breeze teases through Minseok’s hair as the pen in his right hand naturally glides across the paper, leaving musical notes in its wake. The tune brought together by the musical notes unravels through his lips and he nods, satisfied that the tune sounded just as good as when he first hummed it in his head.
“Minseok-hyung! Hyung!” Minseok first hears the shouts from Jongin before turning to see the other running towards him. The rare sense of urgency in Jongin’s strides makes him chuckle, for Jongin was never one to hurry and be flustered, even in the face of the direst situations.
However when Jongin came near enough, all thoughts of teasing the younger one were forgotten when Minseok notices the agony and distress evident in Jongin’s hoarse voice. Alarm and unease builds and courses through Minseok’s body.
Jongin bites his lower lip and avoids looking straight at Minseok but tears can be seen in his eyes as he shakes his head and takes a deep breath, wringing his shaking hands in an attempt to control his emotions.
“Jongin, what’s wrong?” Minseok asks gently, a crowd of dread and anxiousness settles into the pit of his stomach but even so, he reaches out to hold Jongin’s trembling frame.
Fresh sobs break out from Jongin at the touch and Minseok’s concerns grow deeper as this is a side of the younger he has never seen before. “They said…” that was all Jongin could manage before he chokes on his words and sinks down to curl up on the sand.
Minseok drops on his knees beside Jongin and soothingly rubs the younger boy’s back, quietly listening in an attempt to extract more information among the sobs and chokes. The palpable pain in Jongin’s sobs slowly tears at his own heart and he asks as gently as he can. “Hey hey, what’s going on? Who are the “they” you’re talking about? What did they say?”
The bile of fear and worry lodged in his throat swells and a million possible scenarios of things that could go wrong flashes through his mind - Jongin getting fired from his job, his little sister having a miscarriage, Joonmyun getting into an accident, Luhan’s plane crashing- he stops himself from completing the last scenario, the mere thought of it suffocating the breath out of his lungs.
Nothing must ever happen to Luhan. Nothing.
Jongin raises his head, drawing out a quivering breath before continuing. “The company said that … Luhan-hyung got into a car accident in Rome and he …” Unable to continue, he hides his face in his palms but Minseok pulls his hands away and grips the tiny wrists tightly.
“Luhan got into a car accident… and he …” Minseok repeats after Jongin blankly, his fingernails digging into Jongin’s wrists but the younger doesn’t seem to notice through his tears. “Jongin, tell me what happened to Luhan!” he demands, his eyes growing wide and wild with fear.
The anguish and pain in Jongin’s eyes intensify as he screams out the irrefutable truth weighed greatly on his tiny heart, these heavy piercing words that he knows will sure to grieve Minseok’s heart too.
“Luhan-hyung… he died on the spot! He’s dead! He’s never going to come back again!”
“Where are you flying to, this time round?”
“To Rome. It’s an ultra long-haul flight and I’m only flying back the day after. That’s three days I’ll be away from you! Don’t miss me too much (even though I’ll really miss you).”
“Don’t worry, I’m just going to enjoy the peace and quiet when you’re not here and probably go on a date with that young trainee in Yixing’s dance class-“
“DON’T YOU DARE!!”
“Ouch Luhan, that hurts!”
“It doesn’t compare to the pain in my heart when I think about all the times I’m away from you and all the people who will flock to you when I’m away, my sweet honey-apple pie boo.”
“Oh my God, stop calling me that.”
“You love that nickname, admit it.”
“… Luhan?”
“Hmm? Is something wrong, Minseok? Why are you crying?!”
“Nothing! It’s just that … It doesn’t matter if you’re always away, as long as you come back to me safely every time.”
“I will, Minseok, I promise you that I will always come back to you.”
“Luhan!” Eyes opened wide from the sudden shock in his dream, Minseok looks wildly around for the face he has been longing to see and caress (ever since the other has left on a sunny day, his heart attached to the other’s quicksand grin), his hands blindly searching for the other’s pair of hands to hold in the dark.
But there was no one. (No one like Luhan.)
“Minseok-hyung?” As he rubs the sudden tears welling in his eyes away, he hears Joonmyun’s soft voice and turns to his side to see the younger looking at him with concern. “Are you okay, hyung?”
He nods because what else can he do in such a situation? Rage and yell at the sky for taking Luhan away? Weep till his eyes turn blind because he can never see or touch the other again? All he could do is nod and say he’s okay because he doesn’t want the others to be worried for him in the midst of their own time of grief.
(But he doesn’t know if he’s okay, doesn’t think he will ever be okay without Luhan anyway)
“We’ll be reaching Seoul in another 5 hours time. I’ll get you a drink so that you can sleep better for the rest of the flight.” Joonmyun leaves after pressing a gentle kiss on Minseok’s forehead, a kind gesture that is meant to comfort and soothe him but he could still not find any respite from the raw throbbing pain and grief seared into his heart.
He stares blankly out of the plane window at the darkened night sky, the lack of its starry host seeming to reflect his own loss. Luhan was his guiding light and he is just a phantom ship lost in the wrecking sea without any hope of ever returning home.
Because home is where Luhan is.
(There was a night like this when Minseok still had Luhan. When Luhan’s arms were around him as they stayed up, all cuddled up in their blankets, planning to witness the display of shooting stars.
“I don’t mean to dampen your spirits but it doesn’t look like the clouds are going to disperse in time for us to see the shooting stars.”
“How do you even know?”
“I learned this from my metrology class. A pilot needs to know the clouds well enough to navigate around them.”
“… You’re a pretentious little shit.”
“My babe is sulking because we can’t see the shooting stars aw~”
“Shut up! And I’m not your babe.”
“BABEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. …. Oh my God babe, where are you going~ ….. Babe, did you lock me out?! Babe?! Baby?! Sweet honey apple pie boo?!”
“SHUT UP. AND STAY OUT.”)
“ -something for you to drink so that you can sleep soundly until we reach Seoul.” Jongin’s soft whisper brought him out of his reverie and even though he didn’t catch the first part of Jongin’s words, he just nods blankly. It is only when he sweeps his eyes to his right does he notice the wine glass and the bottle of his favorite wine by the side of his foldable table.
No one knows that particular brand and year of wine was his favorite.
Only Luhan knew.
At that thought, he jumps up from his seat in excitement and searches around for Luhan, calling the other’s name repeatedly with anticipation and a huge smile as he thinks how silly he was; of course Luhan isn’t dead, he is still alive and they’re going to go home together, hand in hand, laughing over this ridiculous nonsense-
“Hyung, what are you searching for? Do you need help?” A hand gently pulls him back and he turns around to face Jongin and Joonmyeon, both of them wearing similar looks of concern and alarm.
“Silly, of course I’m looking for Luhan. He’s here on the plane!” Minseok doesn’t understand why Joonmyun is keeping a firm grip on his wrist, doesn’t understand the fear in Jongin’s eyes; all he knows is that he has to find Luhan.
A meaningful look is exchanged between Jongin and Joonmyun before the older one replies in a hesitant voice. “Yes, Luhan-hyung is on the plane. We are bringing his body back to Seoul, remember?”
“You guys don’t understand, Luhan is here! He ordered my favorite wine and had you bring it to me, Jongin. I know it’s him, he just wanted to give me a surprise, right?” His (strained and nervous) laughter fills the space between them but he could not feel enough resolute in himself to stop his hands from shaking.
“I was the one who asked Jongin to bring the drink to you. I thought it will make you feel better.” Joonmyun finally said, his voice soft and his eyes glaze with pain and guilt. “I wish it wasn’t me, I wish it was Luhan-hyung too but hyung, … he’s never going to come back again.”
Minseok hears the way Joonmyun’s voice breaks with the last few words and he sees the way Jongin wraps his arms around the older’s waist in a shared moment of sorrow and comfort. But nothing registers in his mind, only the gaping emptiness in the left of his chest that hurts so much as he finally realize that Luhan will never come back, will never hold him in his arms and kiss him till they both cling to each other in breathlessness again.
(“You know that I will always come back to you.”)
Two hours has passed since Minseok returned to a quiet house, the warmth of a home suddenly dissipating till he felt cold, just lying on the worn-out armchair (Luhan’s favorite spot in the living room) and breathing in the remaining scent of its previous owner. Even that was growing faint fast and Minseok can’t do anything to stop it from fading, can’t do anything to bottle it up before there’s nothing left to remind him that Luhan once existed and wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.
An hour spent in his bathtub, the warm water has long turned cold but he still lies in the water, letting the coldness keep him awake. His body aches from the long flight home and his sight grow blurry from time to time but no, he can’t go to sleep.
Luhan died in a foreign land, without any of his family and loved ones around him. It was this fact that drove a knife into Minseok’s little heart, twisting it until he could no longer breathe as he imagines blood slowly seeping out of Luhan’s wounds, his lover letting out quivery breaths amidst the unbearable pain racking the skinny frame till breathing became too labored.
Minseok can never forgive himself for not being there to hold Luhan as he took his last breath. But he also cannot forgive the other for not fulfilling his promise because now Luhan is gone and suddenly, Minseok is left to pick up the pieces of his broken heart and crumbling world, without so much as a last kiss and a spoken goodbye.
He hated the way Luhan left without providing enough closure for all of them to move on, especially for him. It was difficult for him now to recall all the happy memories they shared when all he could think about is the way Luhan smiled brightly before walking out of their home; so used to separation and so confident in his return they were that they hadn’t even said “goodbye”.
If Minseok knew that it was their last time together, he would have gripped his boyfriend tight, never letting him. Not without telling him how much he loves him.
But now it was too late and time can’t be turned back to that fateful moment.
A tear falls from his eyes into the water and soon many droplets follow. Frustration fills him and he slides down into the water in order to stop himself from crying, the cold of the water waking him up from his thoughts and he stays submerged, calmly looking up to the white ceiling through the placid surface of the water.
A burning sensation starts to spread in his lungs at the increasing lack of oxygen but he fights to keep himself under for reasons he didn’t comprehend. Everything is so tranquil and peaceful under water, he thinks and he dizzily smiles, his mind gradually losing focus.
It hurts everywhere, his body and lungs desperate for oxygen but he doesn’t want to get up and go back to the reality, a reality that Luhan no longer exists. His hands clutch at the sides of the bathtub, fighting to keep him alive and at that moment, Luhan’s face appears above him. He widens his eyes and he hears the soft melodious voice calling out to him, “Minseokkie, get up!”
Jolting out of the water and into fresh air, his breathing naturally quickens to take in gulpfuls of oxygen as he looks around.
But of course, there is no one else.
Wanton moans fall from his lips and sweat glistens on his skin as his little fingers pump his erected member with quick strokes but in his mind, the digits wrapped around his member isn’t his own but Luhan’s long and nimble fingers.
His little prince always had a way of giving him the most electrifying pleasures with the least effort; all restraint and control thrown out of the window with just a lustful glance sent in his way, his body trembling with a single kiss on his inner thigh, one hit to that sweet spot has him into a writhing mess on the sheets.
Thoroughly sensitive to everything Luhan, his body memorized every single touch, kiss and grip from the other and right now, his skin tingles exactly at the places that has been caressed and sucked in the past by his lover’s sinful mouth and gripping fingers. His back arcs slightly as his body recalls the sensations produced when Luhan gently rocked into him, going deep and slow before claiming him with furious thrusts, each hitting his prostrate, and lingering kisses at the back of his neck.
There was nothing now that could give him the same kind of pleasure and gratification; only bodily memories remain to push him over the edge. His gasps and shaky pants echo in the room as he comes into his hands.
For a moment, he is satisfied and he is able to forget.
He is able to drift into sleep without crying and fear of nightmares.
(“I hate how you can always make me come with your lazy strokes and blowjob.”
“Wasn’t that how you fell in love with me? Let’s be honest, our supposedly one-night stand must have been really mind-blowing for you to keep coming back to me.”
“All I could remember was how you came when all I did was lick your dick once. Once.”
“You were wearing leather pants! Leather pants are very stimulating.”
“Sure.”
“I’m sorry if I’m lazy with handjobs and blowjobs; I just have to conserve my energy and desire for something better after that.”
“What- … Oh.”)
Jongdae is late for work and he knows that Kyungsoo’s wide eyes are going to glare a hole through him when he gets into his office but he remains unhurried, taking his own sweet time to wear his jacket while collecting his coffee from the café.
Late or not, coffee first-thing in the morning is essential for him to survive through the dreary uninteresting days. Even so, the crazy amount of caffeine he takes daily is barely enough to sustain him through the boring parts before he can finally get to the more interesting activities at night.
Last night was especially demanding, he winces slightly as his hip bumps into the side mirror on his car and he could feel the scratches all over his back. That’s probably the only downside to bedding the fairer sex; women and their obsession with keeping their fingernails long.
But his member twitched lazily at the thought of the woman last night. She was wickedly flexible and certainly experienced, from the way she touched his body at all the right places with the right degree of pressure, pleasuring him to no end before he fucked her hard, the way they both wanted.
He certainly wouldn’t mind meeting up with her again tonight.
That is if the young widow still needs comforting from him.
An emphatic sigh escapes the other’s heart-shaped lips as he enters his office. He isn’t entirely sure whether the sigh is of relief or exasperation but hey, at least he has the decency to look apologetic, going so far as to put on an expression closely resembling contriteness when the younger doesn’t seem convinced. “I’m sorry, long night yesterday.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t even bother to hide his utter derision as he scoffs and throws the file down unto his table. “Which one was it last night?”
He could feel his lips curling into a smirk at the mention of last night and he licks his lips, somehow still being able to taste the acrylic bitterness of her thick lipstick when their lips crashed together in many desperate kisses. “Mrs Wu.”
“M-Mrs Wu?” Kyungsoo chokes, eyes widen to a proportion that he doesn’t think it’s humanly possible. “Her husband just died two days ago!”
“Yeah? Which is why she needs someone to console and hold her in her time of grief.” He casually shrugs his shoulders, not really caring about whatever his excuses for his promiscuity he throws out at this point. (But even his words are starting to sound ridiculous to him.)
“Hyung, you need to stop hooking up with the widows!”
The younger sounds genuinely upset but he decides to ignore the nagging dull ache in his heart and turns to his friend (quite possibly his only friend, other than Baekhyun).
“Kyungsoo, I am offended. I don’t neglect the widowers too! Besides, I don’t see the problem with me giving them the momentary comfort they need and them fulfilling my basic need. It’s a fair exchange and no one gets hurt by such an arrangement.”
(He knows that the other means well, knows that Kyungsoo doesn’t approve of his dalliances because they are nothing but a way of filling the emptiness in his life, temporal distractions from the regrets seeping into his veins when he isn’t guarding his thoughts.
This is why he doesn’t like sleeping alone at night.)
“Whatever rocks your boat, or should I say, your bed.” Apparently amused by the clever pun he just made, Kyungsoo sniggers to himself before straightening his face. “Anyway, we are 30 minutes late for our appointment this morning so we better hurry. They are already here, waiting in the blue room.”
“Excellent, let’s meet our new client.”
Sitting in one of the colorful plastic chairs, Minseok anxiously taps his foot on the thick carpet that is, thankfully, softening any sound he is making because he doesn’t want Joonmyun to notice how uneasy he is feeling right now. But of course nothing escapes the sharp eyes of the younger and he lets the other gently wrap a hand around his tiny one, squeezing it back to let Joonmyun know that he is fine.
Being in the room makes him uneasy and nauseous because everything feels so wrong to him. Though he knows that it is an effort in the part of the funeral home to lessen the somber atmosphere hanging in the place, he finds the pastel-blue walls and decorations too bright and cheerful to be a part of a funeral home.
It was wrong to be here. There is an air of finality in this place that makes Minseok’s heart throb. Being in here makes him feel that this is where he crosses the line, where he finally accepts the fact that Luhan isn’t going to return to him and he has to put the parts of himself that Luhan grew and nurtured into a bottle, leaving it in a top shelf and never opening it up again.
(What he fears the most is that one day, he will stop pining, stop loving and stop remembering.)
However, it was the heavy climate of depersonalization in here that encloses around and suffocates him. Death has a way of stripping an individual, filled with contradictions, nuances and little gestures, to just memories framed by a bunch of photos on the walls and things in a box marked with “Dead and gone”. No matter how grand and elaborate they make Luhan’s funeral to be, they will never be able to fit in all the intricate details of his life, all the small moments he shared with everybody who loved him.
Funerals only consist of lists - list of anecdotes and embarrassing stories to tell, list of people who will weep and mourn for the loss - but they will never be able to encapsulate the vivaciousness of a person who existed, loved and hurt. The photo hung beside the coffin will never be able to capture the twinkling in his eyes or the playful grin always hanging on his lips.
Soon, all that remains of Luhan will be nothing more than a name on the list of people Minseok ever loved and this is something that he cannot allow to happen.
Before Joonmyun could even have time to react, Minseok throws off the grip the younger had on his hand and is halfway through the room when the door swings open and two young men let themselves into the room. The taller of the two stops in front of Minseok, glancing at the tears welling in his eyes and he looks away in embarrassment. The stranger holds out a hand and when he looks up, a kind smile is on the stranger’s face.
“Hi, I’m Kim Jongdae. I’ll be the one who will be planning and arranging your loved one’s funeral, according to your wishes of course.”
“We will just like to hold a simple memorial service for him before he is cremated. After that, his ashes will be scattered into the sky from an airplane, as according to his wishes. That will actually be arranged by my company so you just have to assist in the planning of the service.” Joonmyun explains. For a moment, a bemused expression settles unto his face, as if baffled by the way fate has turned out for all of them. Just a week ago, Luhan was teasingly asking him when he was going to marry Jongin and now, here he is, planning the other’s funeral.
Minseok sits quietly to the side, his head down and his eyes boring holes into the carpet. Not a word or even a sigh has escaped his lips ever since he tried to leave the room in tears and even though he has calmed down considerably, Joonmyun and the two funeral directors took turns to cast worried glances at him.
“Oh I think there might be quite a number of people that will be coming since most of the workers in the company will like to pay their last respects.” Joonmyun adds as an afterthought.
The funeral director with the glasses - Kim Jongdae, Joonmyun recalls - nods in understanding, making sure to take down all the information in his mole-skinned notebook.
“We understand. After all, he was the first Chinese commercial pilot to ever become a captain in South Korea and there must be a lot of people who admired and respected him.” Do Kyungsoo, the other funeral director with comically huge eyes, chimes in with a smile but quickly quietens down when he notices the sudden dark expression on Minseok’s face.
“Where will you like to hold the memorial service? We have various rooms and halls that you can use here but if you already have a place in mind that is outside, we might need a day to get permission and prepare the logistics.”
A few options run through Joonmyun’s mind: the airport will probably be a good place or maybe the church that Luhan once said he will like to hold his and Minseok’s future wedding. The last thought appeared so fast in his mind before he could even stop himself that he quietly gasps and bites his lower lip. It still hurts to think about all the possibilities and future happiness they all could have had, especially Minseok, if only the car accident didn’t take Luhan away from them.
“In the garden.” Minseok’s sudden soft voice catches the other three’s attention and they keep their eyes on him as he continues on. “There is a little glass house in the garden, right? Can we hold it there?”
After flipping through the schedule of wakes and memorial services, Jongdae looks up with an apologetic expression. “The glass house is extremely popular so the earliest date we can set for Mr. Luhan is next Thursday if you want to use the place.”
Joonmyun shakes his head because he knows that everybody needs one more opportunity to say goodbye before they can finally move on and a week of waiting for this sort of closure is simply too long and painful for all of them.
But Minseok remains resolute in his decision. “Joonmyun, Luhan loved the sky. Even when he wasn’t flying, he will always be looking up at the sky, awed by its mysteries and vastness. If we’re going to keep him indoors for his own memorial service, I think he will be extremely upset and restless. We wouldn’t want him crawling out of his coffin in displeasure, would we?”
The atmosphere in the room shifts uncomfortably at the unexpected joke from the smaller male. Minseok laughs hollowly, the curl in his lips not really reaching his eyes. Kyungsoo coughs nervously and Jongdae raises his eyebrow, gazing at Joonmyun who is shifting uneasily in his seat.
“I can’t think of a better place to say goodbye to him.”
Joonmyun can’t find it in his heart to say no anymore.
(“Joonmyun, how long have we known each other?”
“About four or five years? Can you believe that I used to dislike you when we were in the pilot training program?”
“Ah yes, I remember those times. But now look where we are now!”
“… hyung? I’m pretty sure you didn’t bring me up here to feed pigeons and talk about the good old days.”
“I… just… I think I have found the one thing I love more than the sky and flying.
“Finally, hyung!”
“Yes. His name is Kim Minseok.”)
Seven days. Minseok has seven days before he finally has to say goodbye to Luhan and close the door on the four years that they have spent together.
How do you get someone out of your heart when you have pushed him down deep in your heart for far too long that you can no longer distinguish his limbs from your veins? How do you get used to being alone again when you have spent every waking moment of the last few years with someone, whether in thought or in person, who has never given you any need to worry about loneliness?
He doesn’t know and he pulls the comforter tight around his tiny frame, feeling the cold and emptiness of the double bed without another person to hold and keep him warm.
Perhaps the first step of moving on is exchanging the double bed for a single one.
The second step is to pack everything that belonged to Luhan in boxes that he swears never to open up again.
(He did consider putting himself in a box marked with “Luhan’s. Forever”.)
It was easier thought than done because hours later, Minseok is still stuck on the floor of his study, looking through polaroids of them and silly love notes written on paper napkins. Tears stream down his cheeks but he is laughing at the memories of stupid and impractical things they have done.
Like the time they were on a holiday in France and their rented car had run out of gas so they decided to take refuge in (break into, actually) a beautiful castle along the way, drinking wine (that they had conveniently taken from the castle’s cellar) and proceeding to make love to each other on red satin sheets. It was quite heavenly, he had to admit.
Or the time when Luhan was star-struck with some new ballad singer, whose name he can’t even recall now, and had practically pulled him to wait for said singer outside the company in the bitter cold of the winter.
(“I’m not a stalker! I just want to see him and pass him a gift!”
“I’m beginning to think that you love him more than you love me.”
“How could you! I’m hurt.”)
His lips curl into a loving smile, recalling how they bundled together in the cold, drinking hot soup and eating piping-hot dukbokki to keep themselves warm. The alcohol they’ve taken during the long wait loosened their tongues and they ended up sharing about everything, from embarrassing stories to their deepest fears and worries about each other. Even though they left without meeting the singer and Luhan had to pass the gift (Minseok recalls that it was an expensive thick moleskin notebook) to the manager, he still feels that it was one of the sweetest dates he has ever been on.
The memory brought to him a sudden whim to listen to the unknown singer again and he pads into the living room where the home entertainment system is. One last time before he has to pack the CD into the box too, he tells himself as he switches on the player before settling into the armchair, watching the CD spins and the piano keys of the first song drifts into the living room.
“Without sky shaking and earth moving
Without the praises and clapping
The path ahead is far and without air
But I still hope that we will be together in the end.”
For some odd reason, his thoughts keep directing to the funeral director he met yesterday with Joonmyun. The one with the glasses, sharp jawline and a confident grin hanging on his cat-like lips, Kim Jongdae was his name.
“Until the sky becomes ice and the earth ends
There will be roses blooming everywhere
Not hoping for perfection
Maybe looking back there will be surprises”
There was something about Kim Jongdae that strikes him as familiar. It was the way he looked down and the way his prominent cheekbones accentuated his handsome face.
Minseok is pretty sure he has seen the young funeral director somewhere.
His eyes widen as the realization came to him. Scrambling to get out of the armchair and rushing to the stack of CD cases, his hand tremble slightly when he finally finds the picture of the ballad singer on the CD cover.
“If we are separated by heaven and earth
I will change to another way of loving you
Stopping the time or the atmosphere
We will be together every time I close my eyes”
The CD case clutters to the floor.
It is him.
“Having the best dream
Expecting the most painful ending
Have never forgotten the way we started
And of kissing you in my memories”
Trudging up the path through the garden, Jongdae shifts his messenger bag around to massage his sore neck and grimaces at the throbbing pain wrecking his head right now. The memorial service that was held in the afternoon was plain to say, a disaster, what with Sehun forgetting to contact the florist beforehand and them having to scour around the area for two thousand stalks of white roses in 15 minutes and then having to put a stop to a catfight involving the wife and the secret mistress of Mr. Wu in the middle of the service.
Even the quick session with Mrs. Wu in his office after the service seemed like a chore, nothing more than an act of pity on his part and an outlet for her unhappiness. The young widow had left with a sad smile and tears in her eyes and Jongdae has enough experience with reading between the lines to know that this is where they end.
For once, he doesn’t mind having no one to accompany him tonight because all he wants to do upon reaching home is to take a well-deserved long soak in the bathtub before collapsing on the soft sheets of his bed and snore all the way to morning.
“Mr. Kim Jongdae?”
He turns to the faint voice, not really caring to hide his annoyance but his irritation is soon replaced by surprise and curiosity when he realizes it’s the tiny male from yesterday’s morning appointment. Kim Minseok, he recalls. Probably a special somebody of a certain dead Mr. Luhan, his brain helpfully supplies.
“Oh Mr. Kim Minseok, is that right? Is there anything I can help you with?” He really tries his best putting on a bright professional smile but all he can feel is the pain drilling into his head and it must have been obvious because the small male frowns slightly in worry.
“Are you okay, Mr. Kim?”
“I’m fine. … It’s just a headache; I have it every other day so it’s actually not a big deal. I’ll just take some painkillers.” He should probably take one now; the pain is killing him and he can’t say another word without feeling the added pressure on his temples.
But before he could comb through his bag for painkillers, the smaller male has grabbed hold of his wrist, leading him and pushing him down unto one of the benches in the garden. “I’ll give you a head massage, it works better than painkillers.”
Any half-hearted protests he has at the tip of his mouth melt away when he feels the small fingers adding a little pressure and moving in tiny circles on the throbbing veins at the sides of his forehead. Little by little, the drilling pain in his head recedes and his eyelids flutter close when the other adds pressure at the base of his head, moving in the same way as the fingers on his forehead.
Silence reigns in the air as Jongdae enjoys the way the other’s fingers work their magic on him. He almost whines when he feels the touch of the fingers gone before they reappear again, this time trailing down his neck and tenderly kneading the area all the way to his shoulders. His head thrown back and tiny moans fall out of his lips as the small fingers manipulates the muscles on his shoulders, peeling away the tension and the stress hidden underneath the skin, layer by layer.
For a moment, his body felt free of all that burdens him and the only senses that overwhelms him is the way he loses himself to the tiny male with feline eyes, full cheeks and those miraculous fingers.
The massage stops and he slowly opens his dazed eyes to see the other smiling brightly, all gums and delight sparkling in the eyes. “Feeling better?”
He could only nod, his vocal cords and tongue muscles too complacent to work right now.
Kim Minseok’s bright smile loses its luminosity as his eyes falls away and Jongdae frowns slightly at the loss of the bright gummy smile. “I used to give Luhan massages too. He’s just like you, having headaches every one or two days.”
“Will you come and give me a massage every time I need one? I’ll pay you, don’t worry.” Jongdae asks playfully, half an attempt to make the other laugh, the other half a serious question.
As expected, Kim Minseok laughs, his eyes disappearing into crescents that seems to shine down on the rest of his face, like the moon lighting up in the dark of the night. “That depends on your price.”
(Jongdae laughs along and he thinks that this is nice, laughing along with a stranger at some stupid joke in the middle of a beautiful garden.)
“So… is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Kim? I’m pretty sure you didn’t come all the way here to give me a head massage. Even though I really appreciate it.” He asks hesitantly and immediately, Kim Minseok stops smiling and looks down at his fingers restlessly playing with the cuffs of his grey hoodie.
“A-Am I bothering you?”
“No, of course not.”
The smaller male seems to gather enough courage from Jongdae’s answer and he looks up, looking into Jongdae’s eyes with a brave searching gaze. “I just wanted to ask whether you’re … Chen.”
Jongdae freezes at the unexpected question and a dull ache coils at the bottom of his stomach, his mind a total mess from the various memories hitting him all at the same time.
(“Let’s welcome Chen, the new ballad singer with a voice that will sure to melt the hearts of the nation!”
“Hello, I am Chen! Please give lot’s of support and love to me! Thank you!”
“Jongdae… you know how the company is doing now, right? There’s just not enough support for us to release another single for you. I’m really sorry. I wish we can continue to support you, we really do but at this point of time, we can’t-”)
“Mr. Kim? Hey, Mr. Kim Jongdae?” The warmth of the tiny fingers wrapped around his trembling hands sweeps his consciousness out of the horde of unwelcomed memories. The other’s hands are small, barely able to cover his large ones, but they are steadier and more certain than his own shaking hands and he draws comfort from them.
“Is this a bad memory for you? I’m sorry I reminded you of them.” He looks up sharply at the guilt in the hushed voice of the other and a derisive laugh seeps out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
Three years has come and gone since he has been forced to step down from the stage into the gloomy basement of the funeral home, never stopping to think about his own feelings as he runs around, trying to learn the ropes of his grandfather’s business. None of his cousins and uncles was willing to take over the business and when the singing industry made it clear that he will never have a place in it, he gladly took the chance to do something entirely different from his dreams.
He was a fast learner; after all he’s an intelligent and perceptive young man with charms practically oozing out of him, winning anybody he comes across. The business flourished under his leadership and at last, he’s able to stand tall and be proud of at least one thing in his life.
Plenty of weeping widows, widowers and family come and go through the doors of the funeral home and he secretly scoffs at all of them, never understanding why people can’t seem to move on and get over the death of someone they loved.
He never realizes or he’s just not willing to admit to himself that he has all along been like them, unable to move on from that one thing that haunts and traps him in its chains of memories and the familiar overwhelming feeling of rejection and failure.
Choosing to sweep everything down into a hidden corner of his heart, he masks his insecurities with a flippant attitude and a confident smirk that draws people to him and yet nobody has bothered to probe beneath his façade, to see the hidden person plagued with fears and self-doubts.
He flinches when he feels thumbs brushing away the fallen tears he didn’t even know he was shedding.
Nobody has come close to breaking the formidable mask of Kim Jongdae.
Until today.
“How did you know it was me?” Jongdae softly asks in a voice hoarse by the sobs and the cries wrecking his body for the past hour, keeping his watery dark-brown orbs, framed by puffy eyelids, concentrated on the streetlights.
“Luhan bought your CD. When I met you yesterday, you looked really familiar to me especially the way you looked down, and today I was listening to you- your CD and the realization came to me.” Minseok wrings his hands together, a really bad habit that surfaces whenever he was nervous or upset about something. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know it was such a difficult time for you. … I just wanted to know.”
The taller male finally tears his eyes away from the lamppost and focuses on the remorse found on the smaller male’s face. “It’s okay. It’s just that it’s been such a long time since somebody has called me by my stage name. I think you’re the only one who remembers that I was once a singer for six months, other than Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.”
“Well, if you really want to know, Luhan really loved your singing. He used to watch your performances and go “Look Minseok, this is what Korea needs! A voice like his!”. And he will play your CD for hours, singing along even when his voice cracks at your high notes; it used to drive me crazy.”
Minseok lets out a little laugh and Jongdae couldn’t help but laugh along too; he had a few fans writing him letters but it was amusing to hear about his (one and only) fanboy from someone else.
“He was really rooting for you. He searched around for news about your comeback everyday and when there were none, he went to your company to ask about you only to be extremely disappointed by the news that they have dropped you from their management. For the next few days, he couldn’t stop whining about how it was unfair that the music industry had let such a talent slipped away … and I had to admit, I was jealous of you.”
Minseok stops talking, an inscrutable expression crosses his countenance for a moment before his eyes take on a certain light whenever he’s talking about Luhan.
“I used to tease him that he loved you more than he loved me. I’m not surprised if he secretly registered himself into your fanclub.”
“I never had a fanclub; my popularity rate was just too low.” Jongdae states plainly, his voice low and placid but he knows that his eyes betray the pain inside of him at his own words so he looks away.
“… I’m sorry.”
The brokenness in the smaller male’s voice tears a little at Jongdae’s heart and he rebukes himself silently, knowing that Minseok’s grieving heart must be tormented by the added guilt the other heaps on himself. Jongdae waves the apology away, sincerely hoping that the other will stop blaming himself. “Please stop apologizing. You’re not responsible for how I react to someone mentioning about my past. Besides I should really stop feeling so affect-”
“I’m sorry that I composed a lousy song for your debut.”
His head whips back so quickly that his vision swims for a moment before he is able to focus his full attention on Minseok. “You’re - You’re XM, the secretive popular composer that no one in the public has ever seen?!”
Minseok cowers into his seat at Jongdae’s raised voice, hurrying to explain himself. “I’m sorry! Your company approached me when I was going through a really bad break-up and so I threw in whatever depressing melody I could come up and just stuffed it in Yifan’s face to stop him from pestering me. I’m sorry it had to be your debut song, I’m sorry that my song wasn’t good or catchy enough to capture the listeners for you. I am so so so sorry.”
Only Minseok’s agonizing sobs can be heard in the garden as Jongdae snaps out of his astonishment and slowly encircles his arms around the tiny frame, taking both of them by surprise. He pulls Minseok’s palms away from the tear-streaked face. “It’s hard to believe that the elusive XM is actually sitting next to me with a giant grey hoodie swallowing his tiny frame. It’s even harder to believe that he actually has such graceful eyes and squishy cheeks like the mandoos you see selling on the streets.”
Minseok stares back at him, the incredulity in his eyes not diminished by the tears watering in them. “Are you crazy?”
(Jongdae wonders the same too.)
“Look … I don’t even blame anyone for what happened. It’s just what life throws at me and nobody says I have to be popular. Besides … I thought your composition was beautiful and I was really happy when I heard the demo. Please believe me when I say that it’s not a lousy song and I’m deeply honored that the accomplished XM will write a song for my debut.”
He pauses, his cheeks turning pink with relief when Minseok sniffs and nods slowly. “And your cheeks are really round.” He continues while poking the other’s cheeks playfully.
Offended, Minseok swats his hand away but bubbles of unadulterated laughter breaks the silence and soon, Jongdae’s laughter joins in. Both of them feel the exhaustion from all the crying but they stay close to each other, not willing to let this shared moment of affinity slip away from them so easily.
“Chen- I mean Mr. Kim? I know it’s too much to ask from you but will you do me a favor? … Will you sing at Luhan’s memorial service? I think he will really like it if you do. It makes … saying goodbye a lot easier.” Jongdae makes the mistake of looking into Minseok’s imploring eyes and suddenly he understands why Joonmyun couldn’t say no to the smaller male yesterday.
“It’s Jongdae. And I will love to.”
He really shouldn’t be mad. It’s not like he keeps to a habit of sleeping at godly normal hours, especially not with his penchant of comforting widows and widowers late at night.
But on a night where he is beyond exhaustion, desperate for a restful night of sleep before the long working day tomorrow, his phone decides to ring just at the moment he’s about to enter dreamland. He thinks that the one up there doesn’t like him very much. Or it might be karma, he could never tell the difference between the two.
It’s 2 am in the morning and he’s not exactly sure what possesses him to answer the phone call.
“Hello. And what the fuck do you want at 2 am? Please make sure that this isn’t a prank, you fuckers, or I swear I will track you down and-”
“J-Jongdae?”
Oh.
Bolting upright in his bed, his heart hammers heavier and faster with worry. “Is this Minseok? Is something wrong?”
A thick silence hangs in the air as he waits for the other to answer him.
Minseok clears his throat but he still sounds shaky and uncertain over the phone. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be bothering you at such a time-”
“Hey hey hey, Minseok? It’s no worry, really. Is everything okay?” He grips the phone as he repeats his question. Now that he has made sure that the other isn’t in any kind of danger, his mind runs ahead of himself. This isn’t a booty call, is it? Minseok doesn’t seem the type to give booty calls to random strangers he met just a few days ago.
(Jongdae is but that really is beside the point.)
“… I-I couldn’t sleep so I was wondering whether you will- aish this is so silly, I’ll just hang up and pretend that none of this happened-”
“Minseok, if you’re not going to spill whatever that is bothering you, I’m going to storm down your house right now.”
Never mind that he doesn’t know where the smaller male lives, never mind that.
The other remains quiet, as if he’s really thinking through the possibility of a Kim Jongdae storming towards his house before speaking up again, this time so soft that Jongdae would have missed it if the phone isn’t gripped so close to his ears. “… Can you sing me to sleep?”
“What.” His lips curl into a small smile and he bites his lower lip to keep himself from laughing into the phone. He’s more surprised and tickled by Minseok’s adorable request but perhaps the other took his monosyllabic reply as a sign of frustration and annoyance.
“I told you this was silly! Good night Jongdae and I’m sorry for waking you up-”
“Yah, are you lying on your bed right now?”
“Yes … why?”
“Good because my singing is going to knock the socks off your feet and I wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt your pretty little face.”
“What the fuck are you talking about-”
“Shh, you shouldn’t be talking when I’m about to sing for you!”
“Jongdae, I’m going to hang up.”
“You won’t.”
A smile creeps unto Jongdae’s mouth when he hears Minseok’s steady breathing over the phone, instead of the disconnect tone he half expects. His vocal cords tingle with excitement and that’s when he realizes how much he actually misses singing and the sensation of surrendering to his natural instincts as his voice overflows with the sentiments and emotions of the song.
Closing his eyes, he loses himself in the lyrics of his favorite song from his mini-album and lets his natural instincts take control of his breathing, vocal cords and his heartstrings.
“If death is nearing in ten seconds, I wish you are here
If I do forget you, I will no longer breathe
If you suddenly feel fearful, remember that I’m here
If there’s no obstacles, we wouldn’t know how to appreciate love”
As each word rolls off his tongue, he hopes and prays that Minseok will be able to hear the words he suddenly wishes he has the courage to say.
“I’ll be on my way to save you
When life goes astray
I’ll be on my way to hold you
To kiss your tears away
And my heart will stay
Stay with you for no reason
Even if I’m away, away”
The second night this happens, Jongdae smiles widely despite his sleepiness when he sees the number displayed on his phone. He sings another song from his mini-album and again, Minseok falls asleep after the first chorus.
(“It doesn’t matter if you forget me
I’ll hold you tight when others let go of you
All because you’re the cause of my happiness
It doesn’t matter, near or far
I won’t ask for a kiss
Though when you’re cold, I wish to be your warmth
It doesn’t matter if you forget me
I will wait even when time doesn’t allow
Don’t be sad if heaven plays a joke on you
On my side, I smile with every response
You were bullied, crying on my shoulders
Turns out that’s what I’m suited for”)
On the third night, his heart thuds a little faster at 1.45 am as he silently counts the seconds to 2 am. The phone call comes and he immediately starts singing a nursery rhyme in jest, earning giggles from the other. He doesn’t know which of them fell asleep first because he wakes up in the morning to find that the call is still connected.
The night after that, Minseok doesn’t call and Jongdae doesn’t fall asleep.
The pub is less crowded than he remembers it to be the last time he was here. Not that he’s complaining because the very last thing he wants right now is some buxom beauty “accidentally” bumping into him and pestering him to buy her a drink.
“Sorry, I’m late!!!” For once, Jongdae is happy that some things do never change, like how the shorter male makes up his lack of height with extra exclamation marks in his words.
He smiles lazily at his friend’s worn-out countenance. “Your rascals giving you trouble just before your shift ends?”
“YES.” Baekhyun groans dramatically before turning to wave (more like yell) his usual order at the bartender. “I miss the six months when I was just your manager; you were a lot easier to deal with than those brats.”
“Aw you love them.” And it’s true because Baekhyun has one of the kindest and the softest heart ever and even if he complains constantly about the people he has to manage, he loves them a whole lot more than he really should. He’s just too proud to admit it.
This is one of the reasons why Baekhyun remains one of his closest friends. Even when the company decided to drop him, Baekhyun has never given up on him. The shorter male’s secret motto in life is probably “once a friend always a friend” or something equally cheesy and clichéd.
(Rumors have it that it was Baekhyun and Yifan who fought the hardest for him against the company’s decision and one of them had run out of the meeting room with angry tears while the other threw a letter of resignation into the director’s face before storming off.
He never bothered to ask any of them about the validity of the rumors but there wasn’t any need because Yifan is now working in another entertainment company while he has always known that Baekhyun has the capability to flood a room whenever the short male is extremely upset or frustrated.)
It has been almost half a year since they last met up and so they happily delve into their little world again, laughing at the antics of the trainees and debutees in Baekhyun’s company and cringing at embarrassing situations in the funeral home.
When the topic of Jongdae’s numerous flings comes up, Baekhyun just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re wasting all the stamina you have developed during your vocal training!”
Jongdae throws a peanut shell at his friend in mock-defensive style. “Wow, as if you weren’t doing the same in the past. You’re just lucky that you met Taeyeon-noona.”
Mentioning the lucky lady always brings a light into Baekhyun’s eyes and this time is no exception. Jongdae pretends to gag at such display of adoration but deep down, he secretly thinks that it must be nice to love someone the way Baekhyun and Taeyeon love each other.
Or the way Minseok and Luhan loved each other.
“Yes, I am extremely lucky so I … will like you to share in my happiness too.” Baekhyun pulls out a cream-colored envelope and bashfully pushes it into Jongdae’s hand.
“Really, do you have to rub your happiness into my face?” He scowls at the wedding invitation but soon breaks into a genuine smile as he gives the other a hug. “I’m happy for you, Baek, I really am.”
“You know what will make me happier?” There is something in Baekhyun’s smile that tells Jongdae that the shorter male has another agenda to this meet-up and he’s not entirely comfortable with it.
“You agreeing to sing at my wedding.”
His blood runs cold and he grabs his bottle of drink a little too roughly, finishing the remaining alcohol in one gulp before composing himself and putting on a smile. “You’re the manager of Korea’s top idol group and you’re asking me to sing at your wedding? I don’t understand how your mind works sometimes, Byunbaek.”
Baekhyun gazes quietly at Jongdae’s face, unfazed at the hardness in the other’s voice. After all, he has been the taller’s manager for six months and he knows very well the mood shifts and tempers of the other.
“You know you’re the best singer out there.”
Jongdae keeps quiet because he doesn’t know how to argue against those words without sounding like he is looking for some pity parties.
Baekhyun knows really well what his friend is thinking and so he doesn’t break the silence between the two of them. When he finally does, his words are careful. “Our company is doing extremely well, thanks to the rascals, and they’re desperately looking for new talents. I know Yifan will be ecstatic to have you under him again and I know you will shine brighter this time round.” He holds up his hands when he notices the string of protests that the other has at the tip of his tongue. “I know what you’re going to say so save it but please, just think about it okay?”
Jongdae runs his hand through his ruffled hair, a disgruntled sigh expressing how uncomfortable he is with the direction of the conversation right now. But he knows how hard Baekhyun fought for him and how his friend has always been there for him during the toughest period of his life and he feels that he should at least do something nice for the other.
(Or maybe it’s just the alcohol stripping away his cautiousness; he really doesn’t care at this point of time.)
“We’ll see how I fare at your wedding before deciding on anything else, okay.”
A squeal erupts from the small male and he throws his arms around Jongdae. “OMG, Taeyeon will be so happy. She loves your singing! It will be the most perfect wedding ever!”
Jongdae can only hum in acknowledgement, his hands lazily encircles around his friend’s tiny frame. At the corner of his eyes, he sees a guy passed out on the couch in some discreet corner of the pub and he was about to disregard the figure when it slowly dawns on him that he does indeed know the guy.
It’s Minseok.
next →
Recipient: xiyings
Pairing(s): Minseok/Jongdae, past!Minseok/Luhan, slight!Joonmyun/Jongin
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Luhan is as dead as a doorknob, Yifan is mentioned several times and Baekhyun is not gay (surprise)
Word count: 18,123 words
Summary: Minseok finds it hard to breathe when he's in so much pain and Jongdae tries to save him.
Sun rays reflect off the surface of the water and the light sea breeze teases through Minseok’s hair as the pen in his right hand naturally glides across the paper, leaving musical notes in its wake. The tune brought together by the musical notes unravels through his lips and he nods, satisfied that the tune sounded just as good as when he first hummed it in his head.
“Minseok-hyung! Hyung!” Minseok first hears the shouts from Jongin before turning to see the other running towards him. The rare sense of urgency in Jongin’s strides makes him chuckle, for Jongin was never one to hurry and be flustered, even in the face of the direst situations.
However when Jongin came near enough, all thoughts of teasing the younger one were forgotten when Minseok notices the agony and distress evident in Jongin’s hoarse voice. Alarm and unease builds and courses through Minseok’s body.
Jongin bites his lower lip and avoids looking straight at Minseok but tears can be seen in his eyes as he shakes his head and takes a deep breath, wringing his shaking hands in an attempt to control his emotions.
“Jongin, what’s wrong?” Minseok asks gently, a crowd of dread and anxiousness settles into the pit of his stomach but even so, he reaches out to hold Jongin’s trembling frame.
Fresh sobs break out from Jongin at the touch and Minseok’s concerns grow deeper as this is a side of the younger he has never seen before. “They said…” that was all Jongin could manage before he chokes on his words and sinks down to curl up on the sand.
Minseok drops on his knees beside Jongin and soothingly rubs the younger boy’s back, quietly listening in an attempt to extract more information among the sobs and chokes. The palpable pain in Jongin’s sobs slowly tears at his own heart and he asks as gently as he can. “Hey hey, what’s going on? Who are the “they” you’re talking about? What did they say?”
The bile of fear and worry lodged in his throat swells and a million possible scenarios of things that could go wrong flashes through his mind - Jongin getting fired from his job, his little sister having a miscarriage, Joonmyun getting into an accident, Luhan’s plane crashing- he stops himself from completing the last scenario, the mere thought of it suffocating the breath out of his lungs.
Nothing must ever happen to Luhan. Nothing.
Jongin raises his head, drawing out a quivering breath before continuing. “The company said that … Luhan-hyung got into a car accident in Rome and he …” Unable to continue, he hides his face in his palms but Minseok pulls his hands away and grips the tiny wrists tightly.
“Luhan got into a car accident… and he …” Minseok repeats after Jongin blankly, his fingernails digging into Jongin’s wrists but the younger doesn’t seem to notice through his tears. “Jongin, tell me what happened to Luhan!” he demands, his eyes growing wide and wild with fear.
The anguish and pain in Jongin’s eyes intensify as he screams out the irrefutable truth weighed greatly on his tiny heart, these heavy piercing words that he knows will sure to grieve Minseok’s heart too.
“Luhan-hyung… he died on the spot! He’s dead! He’s never going to come back again!”
“Where are you flying to, this time round?”
“To Rome. It’s an ultra long-haul flight and I’m only flying back the day after. That’s three days I’ll be away from you! Don’t miss me too much (even though I’ll really miss you).”
“Don’t worry, I’m just going to enjoy the peace and quiet when you’re not here and probably go on a date with that young trainee in Yixing’s dance class-“
“DON’T YOU DARE!!”
“Ouch Luhan, that hurts!”
“It doesn’t compare to the pain in my heart when I think about all the times I’m away from you and all the people who will flock to you when I’m away, my sweet honey-apple pie boo.”
“Oh my God, stop calling me that.”
“You love that nickname, admit it.”
“… Luhan?”
“Hmm? Is something wrong, Minseok? Why are you crying?!”
“Nothing! It’s just that … It doesn’t matter if you’re always away, as long as you come back to me safely every time.”
“I will, Minseok, I promise you that I will always come back to you.”
“Luhan!” Eyes opened wide from the sudden shock in his dream, Minseok looks wildly around for the face he has been longing to see and caress (ever since the other has left on a sunny day, his heart attached to the other’s quicksand grin), his hands blindly searching for the other’s pair of hands to hold in the dark.
But there was no one. (No one like Luhan.)
“Minseok-hyung?” As he rubs the sudden tears welling in his eyes away, he hears Joonmyun’s soft voice and turns to his side to see the younger looking at him with concern. “Are you okay, hyung?”
He nods because what else can he do in such a situation? Rage and yell at the sky for taking Luhan away? Weep till his eyes turn blind because he can never see or touch the other again? All he could do is nod and say he’s okay because he doesn’t want the others to be worried for him in the midst of their own time of grief.
(But he doesn’t know if he’s okay, doesn’t think he will ever be okay without Luhan anyway)
“We’ll be reaching Seoul in another 5 hours time. I’ll get you a drink so that you can sleep better for the rest of the flight.” Joonmyun leaves after pressing a gentle kiss on Minseok’s forehead, a kind gesture that is meant to comfort and soothe him but he could still not find any respite from the raw throbbing pain and grief seared into his heart.
He stares blankly out of the plane window at the darkened night sky, the lack of its starry host seeming to reflect his own loss. Luhan was his guiding light and he is just a phantom ship lost in the wrecking sea without any hope of ever returning home.
Because home is where Luhan is.
(There was a night like this when Minseok still had Luhan. When Luhan’s arms were around him as they stayed up, all cuddled up in their blankets, planning to witness the display of shooting stars.
“I don’t mean to dampen your spirits but it doesn’t look like the clouds are going to disperse in time for us to see the shooting stars.”
“How do you even know?”
“I learned this from my metrology class. A pilot needs to know the clouds well enough to navigate around them.”
“… You’re a pretentious little shit.”
“My babe is sulking because we can’t see the shooting stars aw~”
“Shut up! And I’m not your babe.”
“BABEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. …. Oh my God babe, where are you going~ ….. Babe, did you lock me out?! Babe?! Baby?! Sweet honey apple pie boo?!”
“SHUT UP. AND STAY OUT.”)
“ -something for you to drink so that you can sleep soundly until we reach Seoul.” Jongin’s soft whisper brought him out of his reverie and even though he didn’t catch the first part of Jongin’s words, he just nods blankly. It is only when he sweeps his eyes to his right does he notice the wine glass and the bottle of his favorite wine by the side of his foldable table.
No one knows that particular brand and year of wine was his favorite.
Only Luhan knew.
At that thought, he jumps up from his seat in excitement and searches around for Luhan, calling the other’s name repeatedly with anticipation and a huge smile as he thinks how silly he was; of course Luhan isn’t dead, he is still alive and they’re going to go home together, hand in hand, laughing over this ridiculous nonsense-
“Hyung, what are you searching for? Do you need help?” A hand gently pulls him back and he turns around to face Jongin and Joonmyeon, both of them wearing similar looks of concern and alarm.
“Silly, of course I’m looking for Luhan. He’s here on the plane!” Minseok doesn’t understand why Joonmyun is keeping a firm grip on his wrist, doesn’t understand the fear in Jongin’s eyes; all he knows is that he has to find Luhan.
A meaningful look is exchanged between Jongin and Joonmyun before the older one replies in a hesitant voice. “Yes, Luhan-hyung is on the plane. We are bringing his body back to Seoul, remember?”
“You guys don’t understand, Luhan is here! He ordered my favorite wine and had you bring it to me, Jongin. I know it’s him, he just wanted to give me a surprise, right?” His (strained and nervous) laughter fills the space between them but he could not feel enough resolute in himself to stop his hands from shaking.
“I was the one who asked Jongin to bring the drink to you. I thought it will make you feel better.” Joonmyun finally said, his voice soft and his eyes glaze with pain and guilt. “I wish it wasn’t me, I wish it was Luhan-hyung too but hyung, … he’s never going to come back again.”
Minseok hears the way Joonmyun’s voice breaks with the last few words and he sees the way Jongin wraps his arms around the older’s waist in a shared moment of sorrow and comfort. But nothing registers in his mind, only the gaping emptiness in the left of his chest that hurts so much as he finally realize that Luhan will never come back, will never hold him in his arms and kiss him till they both cling to each other in breathlessness again.
(“You know that I will always come back to you.”)
Two hours has passed since Minseok returned to a quiet house, the warmth of a home suddenly dissipating till he felt cold, just lying on the worn-out armchair (Luhan’s favorite spot in the living room) and breathing in the remaining scent of its previous owner. Even that was growing faint fast and Minseok can’t do anything to stop it from fading, can’t do anything to bottle it up before there’s nothing left to remind him that Luhan once existed and wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.
An hour spent in his bathtub, the warm water has long turned cold but he still lies in the water, letting the coldness keep him awake. His body aches from the long flight home and his sight grow blurry from time to time but no, he can’t go to sleep.
Luhan died in a foreign land, without any of his family and loved ones around him. It was this fact that drove a knife into Minseok’s little heart, twisting it until he could no longer breathe as he imagines blood slowly seeping out of Luhan’s wounds, his lover letting out quivery breaths amidst the unbearable pain racking the skinny frame till breathing became too labored.
Minseok can never forgive himself for not being there to hold Luhan as he took his last breath. But he also cannot forgive the other for not fulfilling his promise because now Luhan is gone and suddenly, Minseok is left to pick up the pieces of his broken heart and crumbling world, without so much as a last kiss and a spoken goodbye.
He hated the way Luhan left without providing enough closure for all of them to move on, especially for him. It was difficult for him now to recall all the happy memories they shared when all he could think about is the way Luhan smiled brightly before walking out of their home; so used to separation and so confident in his return they were that they hadn’t even said “goodbye”.
If Minseok knew that it was their last time together, he would have gripped his boyfriend tight, never letting him. Not without telling him how much he loves him.
But now it was too late and time can’t be turned back to that fateful moment.
A tear falls from his eyes into the water and soon many droplets follow. Frustration fills him and he slides down into the water in order to stop himself from crying, the cold of the water waking him up from his thoughts and he stays submerged, calmly looking up to the white ceiling through the placid surface of the water.
A burning sensation starts to spread in his lungs at the increasing lack of oxygen but he fights to keep himself under for reasons he didn’t comprehend. Everything is so tranquil and peaceful under water, he thinks and he dizzily smiles, his mind gradually losing focus.
It hurts everywhere, his body and lungs desperate for oxygen but he doesn’t want to get up and go back to the reality, a reality that Luhan no longer exists. His hands clutch at the sides of the bathtub, fighting to keep him alive and at that moment, Luhan’s face appears above him. He widens his eyes and he hears the soft melodious voice calling out to him, “Minseokkie, get up!”
Jolting out of the water and into fresh air, his breathing naturally quickens to take in gulpfuls of oxygen as he looks around.
But of course, there is no one else.
Wanton moans fall from his lips and sweat glistens on his skin as his little fingers pump his erected member with quick strokes but in his mind, the digits wrapped around his member isn’t his own but Luhan’s long and nimble fingers.
His little prince always had a way of giving him the most electrifying pleasures with the least effort; all restraint and control thrown out of the window with just a lustful glance sent in his way, his body trembling with a single kiss on his inner thigh, one hit to that sweet spot has him into a writhing mess on the sheets.
Thoroughly sensitive to everything Luhan, his body memorized every single touch, kiss and grip from the other and right now, his skin tingles exactly at the places that has been caressed and sucked in the past by his lover’s sinful mouth and gripping fingers. His back arcs slightly as his body recalls the sensations produced when Luhan gently rocked into him, going deep and slow before claiming him with furious thrusts, each hitting his prostrate, and lingering kisses at the back of his neck.
There was nothing now that could give him the same kind of pleasure and gratification; only bodily memories remain to push him over the edge. His gasps and shaky pants echo in the room as he comes into his hands.
For a moment, he is satisfied and he is able to forget.
He is able to drift into sleep without crying and fear of nightmares.
(“I hate how you can always make me come with your lazy strokes and blowjob.”
“Wasn’t that how you fell in love with me? Let’s be honest, our supposedly one-night stand must have been really mind-blowing for you to keep coming back to me.”
“All I could remember was how you came when all I did was lick your dick once. Once.”
“You were wearing leather pants! Leather pants are very stimulating.”
“Sure.”
“I’m sorry if I’m lazy with handjobs and blowjobs; I just have to conserve my energy and desire for something better after that.”
“What- … Oh.”)
Jongdae is late for work and he knows that Kyungsoo’s wide eyes are going to glare a hole through him when he gets into his office but he remains unhurried, taking his own sweet time to wear his jacket while collecting his coffee from the café.
Late or not, coffee first-thing in the morning is essential for him to survive through the dreary uninteresting days. Even so, the crazy amount of caffeine he takes daily is barely enough to sustain him through the boring parts before he can finally get to the more interesting activities at night.
Last night was especially demanding, he winces slightly as his hip bumps into the side mirror on his car and he could feel the scratches all over his back. That’s probably the only downside to bedding the fairer sex; women and their obsession with keeping their fingernails long.
But his member twitched lazily at the thought of the woman last night. She was wickedly flexible and certainly experienced, from the way she touched his body at all the right places with the right degree of pressure, pleasuring him to no end before he fucked her hard, the way they both wanted.
He certainly wouldn’t mind meeting up with her again tonight.
That is if the young widow still needs comforting from him.
An emphatic sigh escapes the other’s heart-shaped lips as he enters his office. He isn’t entirely sure whether the sigh is of relief or exasperation but hey, at least he has the decency to look apologetic, going so far as to put on an expression closely resembling contriteness when the younger doesn’t seem convinced. “I’m sorry, long night yesterday.”
Kyungsoo doesn’t even bother to hide his utter derision as he scoffs and throws the file down unto his table. “Which one was it last night?”
He could feel his lips curling into a smirk at the mention of last night and he licks his lips, somehow still being able to taste the acrylic bitterness of her thick lipstick when their lips crashed together in many desperate kisses. “Mrs Wu.”
“M-Mrs Wu?” Kyungsoo chokes, eyes widen to a proportion that he doesn’t think it’s humanly possible. “Her husband just died two days ago!”
“Yeah? Which is why she needs someone to console and hold her in her time of grief.” He casually shrugs his shoulders, not really caring about whatever his excuses for his promiscuity he throws out at this point. (But even his words are starting to sound ridiculous to him.)
“Hyung, you need to stop hooking up with the widows!”
The younger sounds genuinely upset but he decides to ignore the nagging dull ache in his heart and turns to his friend (quite possibly his only friend, other than Baekhyun).
“Kyungsoo, I am offended. I don’t neglect the widowers too! Besides, I don’t see the problem with me giving them the momentary comfort they need and them fulfilling my basic need. It’s a fair exchange and no one gets hurt by such an arrangement.”
(He knows that the other means well, knows that Kyungsoo doesn’t approve of his dalliances because they are nothing but a way of filling the emptiness in his life, temporal distractions from the regrets seeping into his veins when he isn’t guarding his thoughts.
This is why he doesn’t like sleeping alone at night.)
“Whatever rocks your boat, or should I say, your bed.” Apparently amused by the clever pun he just made, Kyungsoo sniggers to himself before straightening his face. “Anyway, we are 30 minutes late for our appointment this morning so we better hurry. They are already here, waiting in the blue room.”
“Excellent, let’s meet our new client.”
Sitting in one of the colorful plastic chairs, Minseok anxiously taps his foot on the thick carpet that is, thankfully, softening any sound he is making because he doesn’t want Joonmyun to notice how uneasy he is feeling right now. But of course nothing escapes the sharp eyes of the younger and he lets the other gently wrap a hand around his tiny one, squeezing it back to let Joonmyun know that he is fine.
Being in the room makes him uneasy and nauseous because everything feels so wrong to him. Though he knows that it is an effort in the part of the funeral home to lessen the somber atmosphere hanging in the place, he finds the pastel-blue walls and decorations too bright and cheerful to be a part of a funeral home.
It was wrong to be here. There is an air of finality in this place that makes Minseok’s heart throb. Being in here makes him feel that this is where he crosses the line, where he finally accepts the fact that Luhan isn’t going to return to him and he has to put the parts of himself that Luhan grew and nurtured into a bottle, leaving it in a top shelf and never opening it up again.
(What he fears the most is that one day, he will stop pining, stop loving and stop remembering.)
However, it was the heavy climate of depersonalization in here that encloses around and suffocates him. Death has a way of stripping an individual, filled with contradictions, nuances and little gestures, to just memories framed by a bunch of photos on the walls and things in a box marked with “Dead and gone”. No matter how grand and elaborate they make Luhan’s funeral to be, they will never be able to fit in all the intricate details of his life, all the small moments he shared with everybody who loved him.
Funerals only consist of lists - list of anecdotes and embarrassing stories to tell, list of people who will weep and mourn for the loss - but they will never be able to encapsulate the vivaciousness of a person who existed, loved and hurt. The photo hung beside the coffin will never be able to capture the twinkling in his eyes or the playful grin always hanging on his lips.
Soon, all that remains of Luhan will be nothing more than a name on the list of people Minseok ever loved and this is something that he cannot allow to happen.
Before Joonmyun could even have time to react, Minseok throws off the grip the younger had on his hand and is halfway through the room when the door swings open and two young men let themselves into the room. The taller of the two stops in front of Minseok, glancing at the tears welling in his eyes and he looks away in embarrassment. The stranger holds out a hand and when he looks up, a kind smile is on the stranger’s face.
“Hi, I’m Kim Jongdae. I’ll be the one who will be planning and arranging your loved one’s funeral, according to your wishes of course.”
“We will just like to hold a simple memorial service for him before he is cremated. After that, his ashes will be scattered into the sky from an airplane, as according to his wishes. That will actually be arranged by my company so you just have to assist in the planning of the service.” Joonmyun explains. For a moment, a bemused expression settles unto his face, as if baffled by the way fate has turned out for all of them. Just a week ago, Luhan was teasingly asking him when he was going to marry Jongin and now, here he is, planning the other’s funeral.
Minseok sits quietly to the side, his head down and his eyes boring holes into the carpet. Not a word or even a sigh has escaped his lips ever since he tried to leave the room in tears and even though he has calmed down considerably, Joonmyun and the two funeral directors took turns to cast worried glances at him.
“Oh I think there might be quite a number of people that will be coming since most of the workers in the company will like to pay their last respects.” Joonmyun adds as an afterthought.
The funeral director with the glasses - Kim Jongdae, Joonmyun recalls - nods in understanding, making sure to take down all the information in his mole-skinned notebook.
“We understand. After all, he was the first Chinese commercial pilot to ever become a captain in South Korea and there must be a lot of people who admired and respected him.” Do Kyungsoo, the other funeral director with comically huge eyes, chimes in with a smile but quickly quietens down when he notices the sudden dark expression on Minseok’s face.
“Where will you like to hold the memorial service? We have various rooms and halls that you can use here but if you already have a place in mind that is outside, we might need a day to get permission and prepare the logistics.”
A few options run through Joonmyun’s mind: the airport will probably be a good place or maybe the church that Luhan once said he will like to hold his and Minseok’s future wedding. The last thought appeared so fast in his mind before he could even stop himself that he quietly gasps and bites his lower lip. It still hurts to think about all the possibilities and future happiness they all could have had, especially Minseok, if only the car accident didn’t take Luhan away from them.
“In the garden.” Minseok’s sudden soft voice catches the other three’s attention and they keep their eyes on him as he continues on. “There is a little glass house in the garden, right? Can we hold it there?”
After flipping through the schedule of wakes and memorial services, Jongdae looks up with an apologetic expression. “The glass house is extremely popular so the earliest date we can set for Mr. Luhan is next Thursday if you want to use the place.”
Joonmyun shakes his head because he knows that everybody needs one more opportunity to say goodbye before they can finally move on and a week of waiting for this sort of closure is simply too long and painful for all of them.
But Minseok remains resolute in his decision. “Joonmyun, Luhan loved the sky. Even when he wasn’t flying, he will always be looking up at the sky, awed by its mysteries and vastness. If we’re going to keep him indoors for his own memorial service, I think he will be extremely upset and restless. We wouldn’t want him crawling out of his coffin in displeasure, would we?”
The atmosphere in the room shifts uncomfortably at the unexpected joke from the smaller male. Minseok laughs hollowly, the curl in his lips not really reaching his eyes. Kyungsoo coughs nervously and Jongdae raises his eyebrow, gazing at Joonmyun who is shifting uneasily in his seat.
“I can’t think of a better place to say goodbye to him.”
Joonmyun can’t find it in his heart to say no anymore.
(“Joonmyun, how long have we known each other?”
“About four or five years? Can you believe that I used to dislike you when we were in the pilot training program?”
“Ah yes, I remember those times. But now look where we are now!”
“… hyung? I’m pretty sure you didn’t bring me up here to feed pigeons and talk about the good old days.”
“I… just… I think I have found the one thing I love more than the sky and flying.
“Finally, hyung!”
“Yes. His name is Kim Minseok.”)
Seven days. Minseok has seven days before he finally has to say goodbye to Luhan and close the door on the four years that they have spent together.
How do you get someone out of your heart when you have pushed him down deep in your heart for far too long that you can no longer distinguish his limbs from your veins? How do you get used to being alone again when you have spent every waking moment of the last few years with someone, whether in thought or in person, who has never given you any need to worry about loneliness?
He doesn’t know and he pulls the comforter tight around his tiny frame, feeling the cold and emptiness of the double bed without another person to hold and keep him warm.
Perhaps the first step of moving on is exchanging the double bed for a single one.
The second step is to pack everything that belonged to Luhan in boxes that he swears never to open up again.
(He did consider putting himself in a box marked with “Luhan’s. Forever”.)
It was easier thought than done because hours later, Minseok is still stuck on the floor of his study, looking through polaroids of them and silly love notes written on paper napkins. Tears stream down his cheeks but he is laughing at the memories of stupid and impractical things they have done.
Like the time they were on a holiday in France and their rented car had run out of gas so they decided to take refuge in (break into, actually) a beautiful castle along the way, drinking wine (that they had conveniently taken from the castle’s cellar) and proceeding to make love to each other on red satin sheets. It was quite heavenly, he had to admit.
Or the time when Luhan was star-struck with some new ballad singer, whose name he can’t even recall now, and had practically pulled him to wait for said singer outside the company in the bitter cold of the winter.
(“I’m not a stalker! I just want to see him and pass him a gift!”
“I’m beginning to think that you love him more than you love me.”
“How could you! I’m hurt.”)
His lips curl into a loving smile, recalling how they bundled together in the cold, drinking hot soup and eating piping-hot dukbokki to keep themselves warm. The alcohol they’ve taken during the long wait loosened their tongues and they ended up sharing about everything, from embarrassing stories to their deepest fears and worries about each other. Even though they left without meeting the singer and Luhan had to pass the gift (Minseok recalls that it was an expensive thick moleskin notebook) to the manager, he still feels that it was one of the sweetest dates he has ever been on.
The memory brought to him a sudden whim to listen to the unknown singer again and he pads into the living room where the home entertainment system is. One last time before he has to pack the CD into the box too, he tells himself as he switches on the player before settling into the armchair, watching the CD spins and the piano keys of the first song drifts into the living room.
“Without sky shaking and earth moving
Without the praises and clapping
The path ahead is far and without air
But I still hope that we will be together in the end.”
For some odd reason, his thoughts keep directing to the funeral director he met yesterday with Joonmyun. The one with the glasses, sharp jawline and a confident grin hanging on his cat-like lips, Kim Jongdae was his name.
“Until the sky becomes ice and the earth ends
There will be roses blooming everywhere
Not hoping for perfection
Maybe looking back there will be surprises”
There was something about Kim Jongdae that strikes him as familiar. It was the way he looked down and the way his prominent cheekbones accentuated his handsome face.
Minseok is pretty sure he has seen the young funeral director somewhere.
His eyes widen as the realization came to him. Scrambling to get out of the armchair and rushing to the stack of CD cases, his hand tremble slightly when he finally finds the picture of the ballad singer on the CD cover.
“If we are separated by heaven and earth
I will change to another way of loving you
Stopping the time or the atmosphere
We will be together every time I close my eyes”
The CD case clutters to the floor.
It is him.
“Having the best dream
Expecting the most painful ending
Have never forgotten the way we started
And of kissing you in my memories”
Trudging up the path through the garden, Jongdae shifts his messenger bag around to massage his sore neck and grimaces at the throbbing pain wrecking his head right now. The memorial service that was held in the afternoon was plain to say, a disaster, what with Sehun forgetting to contact the florist beforehand and them having to scour around the area for two thousand stalks of white roses in 15 minutes and then having to put a stop to a catfight involving the wife and the secret mistress of Mr. Wu in the middle of the service.
Even the quick session with Mrs. Wu in his office after the service seemed like a chore, nothing more than an act of pity on his part and an outlet for her unhappiness. The young widow had left with a sad smile and tears in her eyes and Jongdae has enough experience with reading between the lines to know that this is where they end.
For once, he doesn’t mind having no one to accompany him tonight because all he wants to do upon reaching home is to take a well-deserved long soak in the bathtub before collapsing on the soft sheets of his bed and snore all the way to morning.
“Mr. Kim Jongdae?”
He turns to the faint voice, not really caring to hide his annoyance but his irritation is soon replaced by surprise and curiosity when he realizes it’s the tiny male from yesterday’s morning appointment. Kim Minseok, he recalls. Probably a special somebody of a certain dead Mr. Luhan, his brain helpfully supplies.
“Oh Mr. Kim Minseok, is that right? Is there anything I can help you with?” He really tries his best putting on a bright professional smile but all he can feel is the pain drilling into his head and it must have been obvious because the small male frowns slightly in worry.
“Are you okay, Mr. Kim?”
“I’m fine. … It’s just a headache; I have it every other day so it’s actually not a big deal. I’ll just take some painkillers.” He should probably take one now; the pain is killing him and he can’t say another word without feeling the added pressure on his temples.
But before he could comb through his bag for painkillers, the smaller male has grabbed hold of his wrist, leading him and pushing him down unto one of the benches in the garden. “I’ll give you a head massage, it works better than painkillers.”
Any half-hearted protests he has at the tip of his mouth melt away when he feels the small fingers adding a little pressure and moving in tiny circles on the throbbing veins at the sides of his forehead. Little by little, the drilling pain in his head recedes and his eyelids flutter close when the other adds pressure at the base of his head, moving in the same way as the fingers on his forehead.
Silence reigns in the air as Jongdae enjoys the way the other’s fingers work their magic on him. He almost whines when he feels the touch of the fingers gone before they reappear again, this time trailing down his neck and tenderly kneading the area all the way to his shoulders. His head thrown back and tiny moans fall out of his lips as the small fingers manipulates the muscles on his shoulders, peeling away the tension and the stress hidden underneath the skin, layer by layer.
For a moment, his body felt free of all that burdens him and the only senses that overwhelms him is the way he loses himself to the tiny male with feline eyes, full cheeks and those miraculous fingers.
The massage stops and he slowly opens his dazed eyes to see the other smiling brightly, all gums and delight sparkling in the eyes. “Feeling better?”
He could only nod, his vocal cords and tongue muscles too complacent to work right now.
Kim Minseok’s bright smile loses its luminosity as his eyes falls away and Jongdae frowns slightly at the loss of the bright gummy smile. “I used to give Luhan massages too. He’s just like you, having headaches every one or two days.”
“Will you come and give me a massage every time I need one? I’ll pay you, don’t worry.” Jongdae asks playfully, half an attempt to make the other laugh, the other half a serious question.
As expected, Kim Minseok laughs, his eyes disappearing into crescents that seems to shine down on the rest of his face, like the moon lighting up in the dark of the night. “That depends on your price.”
(Jongdae laughs along and he thinks that this is nice, laughing along with a stranger at some stupid joke in the middle of a beautiful garden.)
“So… is there anything I can help you with, Mr. Kim? I’m pretty sure you didn’t come all the way here to give me a head massage. Even though I really appreciate it.” He asks hesitantly and immediately, Kim Minseok stops smiling and looks down at his fingers restlessly playing with the cuffs of his grey hoodie.
“A-Am I bothering you?”
“No, of course not.”
The smaller male seems to gather enough courage from Jongdae’s answer and he looks up, looking into Jongdae’s eyes with a brave searching gaze. “I just wanted to ask whether you’re … Chen.”
Jongdae freezes at the unexpected question and a dull ache coils at the bottom of his stomach, his mind a total mess from the various memories hitting him all at the same time.
(“Let’s welcome Chen, the new ballad singer with a voice that will sure to melt the hearts of the nation!”
“Hello, I am Chen! Please give lot’s of support and love to me! Thank you!”
“Jongdae… you know how the company is doing now, right? There’s just not enough support for us to release another single for you. I’m really sorry. I wish we can continue to support you, we really do but at this point of time, we can’t-”)
“Mr. Kim? Hey, Mr. Kim Jongdae?” The warmth of the tiny fingers wrapped around his trembling hands sweeps his consciousness out of the horde of unwelcomed memories. The other’s hands are small, barely able to cover his large ones, but they are steadier and more certain than his own shaking hands and he draws comfort from them.
“Is this a bad memory for you? I’m sorry I reminded you of them.” He looks up sharply at the guilt in the hushed voice of the other and a derisive laugh seeps out of his mouth before he can stop himself.
Three years has come and gone since he has been forced to step down from the stage into the gloomy basement of the funeral home, never stopping to think about his own feelings as he runs around, trying to learn the ropes of his grandfather’s business. None of his cousins and uncles was willing to take over the business and when the singing industry made it clear that he will never have a place in it, he gladly took the chance to do something entirely different from his dreams.
He was a fast learner; after all he’s an intelligent and perceptive young man with charms practically oozing out of him, winning anybody he comes across. The business flourished under his leadership and at last, he’s able to stand tall and be proud of at least one thing in his life.
Plenty of weeping widows, widowers and family come and go through the doors of the funeral home and he secretly scoffs at all of them, never understanding why people can’t seem to move on and get over the death of someone they loved.
He never realizes or he’s just not willing to admit to himself that he has all along been like them, unable to move on from that one thing that haunts and traps him in its chains of memories and the familiar overwhelming feeling of rejection and failure.
Choosing to sweep everything down into a hidden corner of his heart, he masks his insecurities with a flippant attitude and a confident smirk that draws people to him and yet nobody has bothered to probe beneath his façade, to see the hidden person plagued with fears and self-doubts.
He flinches when he feels thumbs brushing away the fallen tears he didn’t even know he was shedding.
Nobody has come close to breaking the formidable mask of Kim Jongdae.
Until today.
“How did you know it was me?” Jongdae softly asks in a voice hoarse by the sobs and the cries wrecking his body for the past hour, keeping his watery dark-brown orbs, framed by puffy eyelids, concentrated on the streetlights.
“Luhan bought your CD. When I met you yesterday, you looked really familiar to me especially the way you looked down, and today I was listening to you- your CD and the realization came to me.” Minseok wrings his hands together, a really bad habit that surfaces whenever he was nervous or upset about something. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know it was such a difficult time for you. … I just wanted to know.”
The taller male finally tears his eyes away from the lamppost and focuses on the remorse found on the smaller male’s face. “It’s okay. It’s just that it’s been such a long time since somebody has called me by my stage name. I think you’re the only one who remembers that I was once a singer for six months, other than Baekhyun and Kyungsoo.”
“Well, if you really want to know, Luhan really loved your singing. He used to watch your performances and go “Look Minseok, this is what Korea needs! A voice like his!”. And he will play your CD for hours, singing along even when his voice cracks at your high notes; it used to drive me crazy.”
Minseok lets out a little laugh and Jongdae couldn’t help but laugh along too; he had a few fans writing him letters but it was amusing to hear about his (one and only) fanboy from someone else.
“He was really rooting for you. He searched around for news about your comeback everyday and when there were none, he went to your company to ask about you only to be extremely disappointed by the news that they have dropped you from their management. For the next few days, he couldn’t stop whining about how it was unfair that the music industry had let such a talent slipped away … and I had to admit, I was jealous of you.”
Minseok stops talking, an inscrutable expression crosses his countenance for a moment before his eyes take on a certain light whenever he’s talking about Luhan.
“I used to tease him that he loved you more than he loved me. I’m not surprised if he secretly registered himself into your fanclub.”
“I never had a fanclub; my popularity rate was just too low.” Jongdae states plainly, his voice low and placid but he knows that his eyes betray the pain inside of him at his own words so he looks away.
“… I’m sorry.”
The brokenness in the smaller male’s voice tears a little at Jongdae’s heart and he rebukes himself silently, knowing that Minseok’s grieving heart must be tormented by the added guilt the other heaps on himself. Jongdae waves the apology away, sincerely hoping that the other will stop blaming himself. “Please stop apologizing. You’re not responsible for how I react to someone mentioning about my past. Besides I should really stop feeling so affect-”
“I’m sorry that I composed a lousy song for your debut.”
His head whips back so quickly that his vision swims for a moment before he is able to focus his full attention on Minseok. “You’re - You’re XM, the secretive popular composer that no one in the public has ever seen?!”
Minseok cowers into his seat at Jongdae’s raised voice, hurrying to explain himself. “I’m sorry! Your company approached me when I was going through a really bad break-up and so I threw in whatever depressing melody I could come up and just stuffed it in Yifan’s face to stop him from pestering me. I’m sorry it had to be your debut song, I’m sorry that my song wasn’t good or catchy enough to capture the listeners for you. I am so so so sorry.”
Only Minseok’s agonizing sobs can be heard in the garden as Jongdae snaps out of his astonishment and slowly encircles his arms around the tiny frame, taking both of them by surprise. He pulls Minseok’s palms away from the tear-streaked face. “It’s hard to believe that the elusive XM is actually sitting next to me with a giant grey hoodie swallowing his tiny frame. It’s even harder to believe that he actually has such graceful eyes and squishy cheeks like the mandoos you see selling on the streets.”
Minseok stares back at him, the incredulity in his eyes not diminished by the tears watering in them. “Are you crazy?”
(Jongdae wonders the same too.)
“Look … I don’t even blame anyone for what happened. It’s just what life throws at me and nobody says I have to be popular. Besides … I thought your composition was beautiful and I was really happy when I heard the demo. Please believe me when I say that it’s not a lousy song and I’m deeply honored that the accomplished XM will write a song for my debut.”
He pauses, his cheeks turning pink with relief when Minseok sniffs and nods slowly. “And your cheeks are really round.” He continues while poking the other’s cheeks playfully.
Offended, Minseok swats his hand away but bubbles of unadulterated laughter breaks the silence and soon, Jongdae’s laughter joins in. Both of them feel the exhaustion from all the crying but they stay close to each other, not willing to let this shared moment of affinity slip away from them so easily.
“Chen- I mean Mr. Kim? I know it’s too much to ask from you but will you do me a favor? … Will you sing at Luhan’s memorial service? I think he will really like it if you do. It makes … saying goodbye a lot easier.” Jongdae makes the mistake of looking into Minseok’s imploring eyes and suddenly he understands why Joonmyun couldn’t say no to the smaller male yesterday.
“It’s Jongdae. And I will love to.”
He really shouldn’t be mad. It’s not like he keeps to a habit of sleeping at godly normal hours, especially not with his penchant of comforting widows and widowers late at night.
But on a night where he is beyond exhaustion, desperate for a restful night of sleep before the long working day tomorrow, his phone decides to ring just at the moment he’s about to enter dreamland. He thinks that the one up there doesn’t like him very much. Or it might be karma, he could never tell the difference between the two.
It’s 2 am in the morning and he’s not exactly sure what possesses him to answer the phone call.
“Hello. And what the fuck do you want at 2 am? Please make sure that this isn’t a prank, you fuckers, or I swear I will track you down and-”
“J-Jongdae?”
Oh.
Bolting upright in his bed, his heart hammers heavier and faster with worry. “Is this Minseok? Is something wrong?”
A thick silence hangs in the air as he waits for the other to answer him.
Minseok clears his throat but he still sounds shaky and uncertain over the phone. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t be bothering you at such a time-”
“Hey hey hey, Minseok? It’s no worry, really. Is everything okay?” He grips the phone as he repeats his question. Now that he has made sure that the other isn’t in any kind of danger, his mind runs ahead of himself. This isn’t a booty call, is it? Minseok doesn’t seem the type to give booty calls to random strangers he met just a few days ago.
(Jongdae is but that really is beside the point.)
“… I-I couldn’t sleep so I was wondering whether you will- aish this is so silly, I’ll just hang up and pretend that none of this happened-”
“Minseok, if you’re not going to spill whatever that is bothering you, I’m going to storm down your house right now.”
Never mind that he doesn’t know where the smaller male lives, never mind that.
The other remains quiet, as if he’s really thinking through the possibility of a Kim Jongdae storming towards his house before speaking up again, this time so soft that Jongdae would have missed it if the phone isn’t gripped so close to his ears. “… Can you sing me to sleep?”
“What.” His lips curl into a small smile and he bites his lower lip to keep himself from laughing into the phone. He’s more surprised and tickled by Minseok’s adorable request but perhaps the other took his monosyllabic reply as a sign of frustration and annoyance.
“I told you this was silly! Good night Jongdae and I’m sorry for waking you up-”
“Yah, are you lying on your bed right now?”
“Yes … why?”
“Good because my singing is going to knock the socks off your feet and I wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt your pretty little face.”
“What the fuck are you talking about-”
“Shh, you shouldn’t be talking when I’m about to sing for you!”
“Jongdae, I’m going to hang up.”
“You won’t.”
A smile creeps unto Jongdae’s mouth when he hears Minseok’s steady breathing over the phone, instead of the disconnect tone he half expects. His vocal cords tingle with excitement and that’s when he realizes how much he actually misses singing and the sensation of surrendering to his natural instincts as his voice overflows with the sentiments and emotions of the song.
Closing his eyes, he loses himself in the lyrics of his favorite song from his mini-album and lets his natural instincts take control of his breathing, vocal cords and his heartstrings.
“If death is nearing in ten seconds, I wish you are here
If I do forget you, I will no longer breathe
If you suddenly feel fearful, remember that I’m here
If there’s no obstacles, we wouldn’t know how to appreciate love”
As each word rolls off his tongue, he hopes and prays that Minseok will be able to hear the words he suddenly wishes he has the courage to say.
“I’ll be on my way to save you
When life goes astray
I’ll be on my way to hold you
To kiss your tears away
And my heart will stay
Stay with you for no reason
Even if I’m away, away”
The second night this happens, Jongdae smiles widely despite his sleepiness when he sees the number displayed on his phone. He sings another song from his mini-album and again, Minseok falls asleep after the first chorus.
(“It doesn’t matter if you forget me
I’ll hold you tight when others let go of you
All because you’re the cause of my happiness
It doesn’t matter, near or far
I won’t ask for a kiss
Though when you’re cold, I wish to be your warmth
It doesn’t matter if you forget me
I will wait even when time doesn’t allow
Don’t be sad if heaven plays a joke on you
On my side, I smile with every response
You were bullied, crying on my shoulders
Turns out that’s what I’m suited for”)
On the third night, his heart thuds a little faster at 1.45 am as he silently counts the seconds to 2 am. The phone call comes and he immediately starts singing a nursery rhyme in jest, earning giggles from the other. He doesn’t know which of them fell asleep first because he wakes up in the morning to find that the call is still connected.
The night after that, Minseok doesn’t call and Jongdae doesn’t fall asleep.
The pub is less crowded than he remembers it to be the last time he was here. Not that he’s complaining because the very last thing he wants right now is some buxom beauty “accidentally” bumping into him and pestering him to buy her a drink.
“Sorry, I’m late!!!” For once, Jongdae is happy that some things do never change, like how the shorter male makes up his lack of height with extra exclamation marks in his words.
He smiles lazily at his friend’s worn-out countenance. “Your rascals giving you trouble just before your shift ends?”
“YES.” Baekhyun groans dramatically before turning to wave (more like yell) his usual order at the bartender. “I miss the six months when I was just your manager; you were a lot easier to deal with than those brats.”
“Aw you love them.” And it’s true because Baekhyun has one of the kindest and the softest heart ever and even if he complains constantly about the people he has to manage, he loves them a whole lot more than he really should. He’s just too proud to admit it.
This is one of the reasons why Baekhyun remains one of his closest friends. Even when the company decided to drop him, Baekhyun has never given up on him. The shorter male’s secret motto in life is probably “once a friend always a friend” or something equally cheesy and clichéd.
(Rumors have it that it was Baekhyun and Yifan who fought the hardest for him against the company’s decision and one of them had run out of the meeting room with angry tears while the other threw a letter of resignation into the director’s face before storming off.
He never bothered to ask any of them about the validity of the rumors but there wasn’t any need because Yifan is now working in another entertainment company while he has always known that Baekhyun has the capability to flood a room whenever the short male is extremely upset or frustrated.)
It has been almost half a year since they last met up and so they happily delve into their little world again, laughing at the antics of the trainees and debutees in Baekhyun’s company and cringing at embarrassing situations in the funeral home.
When the topic of Jongdae’s numerous flings comes up, Baekhyun just shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You’re wasting all the stamina you have developed during your vocal training!”
Jongdae throws a peanut shell at his friend in mock-defensive style. “Wow, as if you weren’t doing the same in the past. You’re just lucky that you met Taeyeon-noona.”
Mentioning the lucky lady always brings a light into Baekhyun’s eyes and this time is no exception. Jongdae pretends to gag at such display of adoration but deep down, he secretly thinks that it must be nice to love someone the way Baekhyun and Taeyeon love each other.
Or the way Minseok and Luhan loved each other.
“Yes, I am extremely lucky so I … will like you to share in my happiness too.” Baekhyun pulls out a cream-colored envelope and bashfully pushes it into Jongdae’s hand.
“Really, do you have to rub your happiness into my face?” He scowls at the wedding invitation but soon breaks into a genuine smile as he gives the other a hug. “I’m happy for you, Baek, I really am.”
“You know what will make me happier?” There is something in Baekhyun’s smile that tells Jongdae that the shorter male has another agenda to this meet-up and he’s not entirely comfortable with it.
“You agreeing to sing at my wedding.”
His blood runs cold and he grabs his bottle of drink a little too roughly, finishing the remaining alcohol in one gulp before composing himself and putting on a smile. “You’re the manager of Korea’s top idol group and you’re asking me to sing at your wedding? I don’t understand how your mind works sometimes, Byunbaek.”
Baekhyun gazes quietly at Jongdae’s face, unfazed at the hardness in the other’s voice. After all, he has been the taller’s manager for six months and he knows very well the mood shifts and tempers of the other.
“You know you’re the best singer out there.”
Jongdae keeps quiet because he doesn’t know how to argue against those words without sounding like he is looking for some pity parties.
Baekhyun knows really well what his friend is thinking and so he doesn’t break the silence between the two of them. When he finally does, his words are careful. “Our company is doing extremely well, thanks to the rascals, and they’re desperately looking for new talents. I know Yifan will be ecstatic to have you under him again and I know you will shine brighter this time round.” He holds up his hands when he notices the string of protests that the other has at the tip of his tongue. “I know what you’re going to say so save it but please, just think about it okay?”
Jongdae runs his hand through his ruffled hair, a disgruntled sigh expressing how uncomfortable he is with the direction of the conversation right now. But he knows how hard Baekhyun fought for him and how his friend has always been there for him during the toughest period of his life and he feels that he should at least do something nice for the other.
(Or maybe it’s just the alcohol stripping away his cautiousness; he really doesn’t care at this point of time.)
“We’ll see how I fare at your wedding before deciding on anything else, okay.”
A squeal erupts from the small male and he throws his arms around Jongdae. “OMG, Taeyeon will be so happy. She loves your singing! It will be the most perfect wedding ever!”
Jongdae can only hum in acknowledgement, his hands lazily encircles around his friend’s tiny frame. At the corner of his eyes, he sees a guy passed out on the couch in some discreet corner of the pub and he was about to disregard the figure when it slowly dawns on him that he does indeed know the guy.
It’s Minseok.
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