Mind - part 02 (cont.)
(lame joke is lame :">)
It'd been 2 weeks since Woodong's vanishing, Chansung'd learned how to force himself to close his eyes and sink in the mock sleep every night just not to collapse, and when it became unbearable to have no one in reach to share the warmth, he would resort to sleeping pill, though the next morning he would have the unmistakable feeling of his head being made of mud. Junho still watched over him carefully, checking now and then if he was okay, and making an incredible effort not to mention anything that he thought could possibly remind him of the gloomy event, be it idea, or imagination, or Peter Pan, or even dumpling. And Chan returned the favor by trying his best to be loud and hungry and careless and playful and bright and silly and whatever it took to made Junho and himself believe that everything was alright and life was back to normal. But then one night, when he found himself staring without a blink at the twinkling colorful reflections on the dark ceiling until his eyes stung and burnt with emptiness, he dropped all his pretense and admitted to his own sour mind that everything was far from okay. He tightened the blanket around his body and curled up into the formed pile of messy cloths in a vain effort to create the much missed feeling of being accompanied.
All the thoughts stayed jammed in his brain, leaving only one deep tiny place for the vision of Wooyoung that somehow managed to sneak into his ruptured slumber. The name unconsciously slipped through his lips again and tears he'd been holding up all the time came out almost expectedly, tracing down his hollow cheeks.
"Why did you even come in the first place if you'd left eventually, why."
A familiar coolness started to cover him.
"Because you cried like this, and I just couldn't ignore however hard I tried."
If Chan hadn't been so exhausted and drained out, his heart would have stopped beating and his breaths would have hitched in his throat, but he was too shattered now, and any unsatisfied expectation would only make him fall deeper in his insanity, so he chose to squeeze his eyes tighter.
"You are just my imagination. Go away. Stop haunting me."
"Yes, I am. Does it hurt to face your imagination for once?"
Chan opened his eyes slowly, the tears blurred his view at first but finally Woodong's face turned up fully, pale and gentle, hint of smile ghosting over his lips. He laid beside Chan, his hands cupping his faces and brushing the tears away slightly.
"You promised me, we have a deal, remember?"
There was a short pause, for arms to wrap around Chan's waist, pulling him closer and for lips to press on his tired eyes.
"Why did you leave? You didn't even say goodbye...", his voice stayed low and shaky as if for fear of breaking the presence next to him.
"Because I'm not real to your world, and that can hurt you some day, so I thought it'd be better for both if I left, you can have other normal friends and I can remain an imaginary memory to you...", His long cool breaths caressing Chan's skin shifted a bit, "But it doesn't work for me."
"You see," Chan managed to give out a small smile, "It's all your fault. You always want to make it complex." His hug around the other became a little tighter, and it became pleasantly clear to him that his Woodong was really there, in his arms, there for him to enjoy the contact he'd been longing.
"And you always want to see everything in simple way." Wooyoung sighed, "Someday you will realize that I'm not as real as you want me to be."
"I don't need you to be real."
"Huh?"
"I don't need you to be real, I just need you to be here, with me. Even if you are imaginary or made up or whatever, just don't disappear again, then I'm fine."
"Psycho."
"Well, being schizophrenic or narcoleptic, I prefer the first one."
"Where do you even learn that from?"
Chan rubbed his face against the smaller's neck, "Mmm..."
The other laughed quietly, "Okay okay, sleep."
Chan tried to hold his eyes opened, a breath of unnamed scare made him embrace Wooyoung as close as possible before he gave up and let his eyelids fall.
"Don't..."
"I won't, never, I promise. Good night."
Now it's really the end. Though it's not bad, I'm not entirely satisfied, I myself love the idea and think that could make a better story than this, so anyone that find the plot interesting and want to rewrite it, please, take it, make it something decent OTL
Now, can you guess what I'm gonna post next ;))
It'd been 2 weeks since Woodong's vanishing, Chansung'd learned how to force himself to close his eyes and sink in the mock sleep every night just not to collapse, and when it became unbearable to have no one in reach to share the warmth, he would resort to sleeping pill, though the next morning he would have the unmistakable feeling of his head being made of mud. Junho still watched over him carefully, checking now and then if he was okay, and making an incredible effort not to mention anything that he thought could possibly remind him of the gloomy event, be it idea, or imagination, or Peter Pan, or even dumpling. And Chan returned the favor by trying his best to be loud and hungry and careless and playful and bright and silly and whatever it took to made Junho and himself believe that everything was alright and life was back to normal. But then one night, when he found himself staring without a blink at the twinkling colorful reflections on the dark ceiling until his eyes stung and burnt with emptiness, he dropped all his pretense and admitted to his own sour mind that everything was far from okay. He tightened the blanket around his body and curled up into the formed pile of messy cloths in a vain effort to create the much missed feeling of being accompanied.
All the thoughts stayed jammed in his brain, leaving only one deep tiny place for the vision of Wooyoung that somehow managed to sneak into his ruptured slumber. The name unconsciously slipped through his lips again and tears he'd been holding up all the time came out almost expectedly, tracing down his hollow cheeks.
"Why did you even come in the first place if you'd left eventually, why."
A familiar coolness started to cover him.
"Because you cried like this, and I just couldn't ignore however hard I tried."
If Chan hadn't been so exhausted and drained out, his heart would have stopped beating and his breaths would have hitched in his throat, but he was too shattered now, and any unsatisfied expectation would only make him fall deeper in his insanity, so he chose to squeeze his eyes tighter.
"You are just my imagination. Go away. Stop haunting me."
"Yes, I am. Does it hurt to face your imagination for once?"
Chan opened his eyes slowly, the tears blurred his view at first but finally Woodong's face turned up fully, pale and gentle, hint of smile ghosting over his lips. He laid beside Chan, his hands cupping his faces and brushing the tears away slightly.
"You promised me, we have a deal, remember?"
There was a short pause, for arms to wrap around Chan's waist, pulling him closer and for lips to press on his tired eyes.
"Why did you leave? You didn't even say goodbye...", his voice stayed low and shaky as if for fear of breaking the presence next to him.
"Because I'm not real to your world, and that can hurt you some day, so I thought it'd be better for both if I left, you can have other normal friends and I can remain an imaginary memory to you...", His long cool breaths caressing Chan's skin shifted a bit, "But it doesn't work for me."
"You see," Chan managed to give out a small smile, "It's all your fault. You always want to make it complex." His hug around the other became a little tighter, and it became pleasantly clear to him that his Woodong was really there, in his arms, there for him to enjoy the contact he'd been longing.
"And you always want to see everything in simple way." Wooyoung sighed, "Someday you will realize that I'm not as real as you want me to be."
"I don't need you to be real."
"Huh?"
"I don't need you to be real, I just need you to be here, with me. Even if you are imaginary or made up or whatever, just don't disappear again, then I'm fine."
"Psycho."
"Well, being schizophrenic or narcoleptic, I prefer the first one."
"Where do you even learn that from?"
Chan rubbed his face against the smaller's neck, "Mmm..."
The other laughed quietly, "Okay okay, sleep."
Chan tried to hold his eyes opened, a breath of unnamed scare made him embrace Wooyoung as close as possible before he gave up and let his eyelids fall.
"Don't..."
"I won't, never, I promise. Good night."
Now it's really the end. Though it's not bad, I'm not entirely satisfied, I myself love the idea and think that could make a better story than this, so anyone that find the plot interesting and want to rewrite it, please, take it, make it something decent OTL
Now, can you guess what I'm gonna post next ;))