Nakama (drabble)
Title: Nakama
Pairing: None
Genre: General, Heartbreaking friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They've drifted apart and she will never make the first move.
Disclaimer: I am mine~
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Nakama
At this moment, she doesn't know whether to decide if her friends are, in fact, a blessing or a curse.
Click, the door's lock seems to mock her.
It's for your own good, she can hear voices in her head. This is not new. She usually hears Jin's beautiful voice in her head instead of the nagging ones of her friends'. You two need to talk.
She looks at the person next to her - person who is now cursed with being in the same situation as her.
Which means locked up in a room.
Those only happen in manga, she ruminates.
Oh wait... I live in a manga. Never mind her earlier thought.
She risks some glances at him while he risks some glances at her too. They just don't coincide, so neither of them know that they're trying to look at each other.
An awkward silence takes place.
She sighs and decides to start because she has been in therapy and she has learned that it is important to talk and to let other people know about your feelings.
“One of my younger friends just got a Taemin haircut,” she starts casually.
Of course, she never starts with the most important things. The things that matter.
He snorts, but you can hear a hint of fondness in it. At least he knows who Taemin is.
It kind of gives her hope. Maybe they haven't drifted that apart yet.
“Yeah, I'd totally do him if he wasn't... Taemin's age,” she continues with that nonchalant tone of hers.
He chuckles, but still says nothing. Not only is he a guy, but he's also a naturally quiet one. It sometimes - most of the time - pisses her off because she might rant a lot - to him and other people - but he is the only person whom she talks a lot to and he hasn't been there for the past few months - is it year now - when she...
“You're selfish,” she says in her bitchy tone - Heechul tone, she likes to call it.
He suddenly lifts his head to look at her. She ignores him.
“And uncaring,” she continues. “And cruel.”
His eyes are now round and he's about to deny all of it when she finally looks at him in the eyes. And she has those really big shiny eyes, and he's always been fond of them, but they totally make him weak and silent when they are too shiny.
She sighs in return and looks up to the ceiling because her scientific self thinks that if she looks up, she won't let anything come down. She takes a few deep breaths.
She always tries to act strong, even when she doesn't need to.
He is supposed to be the person she doesn't need to act in front of.
She doesn't remember that. Or maybe she doesn't want to remember. It's still kind of painful.
“I've been back in therapy for a while.”
“I know,” he says in an almost inaudible tone. She hears it because she has musician ears, and because there are only the two of them in the room.
“Dysthymia,” she says. “That's what I have.”
He nods, and still doesn't reply anything.
“It's less severe than clinical depression,” she continues as if that had been her intention all along. “It's just a pain in the ass because it's chronic depression. Means that more than a day out of two, I'm depressed.”
He nods again. She pretends to ignore him.
“They,” she talks about her other friends, her girl friends, “had to push me to see a psychiatrist. Were worried to death after I've mentioned death so many times,” she is satisfied to see the astonished look in his eyes, “Thought I needed medication or something because it definitely wasn't normal to think that death was the only solution.”
He's looking at the floor. She doesn't need to see the worry in his eyes; she can feel it surrounding him.
“They,” she continues, “had to get me out of my house so that they would be sure that I wouldn't... fall asleep to never wake up again. Had to reassure me, to constantly repeat to me that I wasn't a burden, that they didn't expect me to be happy-go-lucky all the time, that they were there for me, that I would get better, that it was hard, but I'd definitely get better.”
She doesn't say it, but he isn't stupid. You weren't there, is what she really is saying.
He feels bad. She knows it. But she's kind of a bitch, a drama queen, a Heechul, and she just wants him to feel bad.
“You could've called,” he suddenly says and she snorts.
“For what? To receive as much response as I'm receiving right now?” she snarls. “To hear words that would only crush my heart right now? To hear that my best friend doesn't seem to know what to say to me when he used to guess me so well?”
He lowers his head again. She snorts again.
“I don't know what to say,” he whispers.
He has missed so much, and she's an impatient girl; she doesn't want to tell him all of the things that have happened. She likes to rant on the spur of the moment, not re-tell long stories that she deems boring.
“You could've called too, if you cared,” she says dryly. “I understand me calling you could take you a bit aback, so you wouldn't have anything to say back to me... but if you...”
“I care.”
She sighs, “I know.”
There is a moment of silence. Holding back tears is such a hard task.
“If you... had called. I mean, you saw other people, right? Other... friends. But, what? Didn't have time to think about me? To just ring me and see if I was doing well? What would've happened if I-” she takes a deep breath, “if it had been worse. If I actually tried to act upon my feelings.”
What would've happened if I was dead, and you never knew...?
“I... I know you have your problems... but you refuse to take care of yourself and I want to take care of you, but you're so unwilling and I... I just don't have the force anymore! I can't...!”
And that's when she feels his strong arms around her. He cries first, she follows. She's sobbing against his shoulder, not at all surprised that she still has tears left after all the others times she had cried.
“I'm sorry.” She barely hears it, her hearing buzzed by the sounds of cries.
She opens her mouth to say something back.
“I miss you.”
He said it instead.
________________________________________________
Don't worry, I have more positive pieces coming up! lol Slowly returning back to the world of fanfiction...
Pairing: None
Genre: General, Heartbreaking friendship
Rating: PG-13
Summary: They've drifted apart and she will never make the first move.
Disclaimer: I am mine~
________________________________________________
Nakama
At this moment, she doesn't know whether to decide if her friends are, in fact, a blessing or a curse.
Click, the door's lock seems to mock her.
It's for your own good, she can hear voices in her head. This is not new. She usually hears Jin's beautiful voice in her head instead of the nagging ones of her friends'. You two need to talk.
She looks at the person next to her - person who is now cursed with being in the same situation as her.
Which means locked up in a room.
Those only happen in manga, she ruminates.
Oh wait... I live in a manga. Never mind her earlier thought.
She risks some glances at him while he risks some glances at her too. They just don't coincide, so neither of them know that they're trying to look at each other.
An awkward silence takes place.
She sighs and decides to start because she has been in therapy and she has learned that it is important to talk and to let other people know about your feelings.
“One of my younger friends just got a Taemin haircut,” she starts casually.
Of course, she never starts with the most important things. The things that matter.
He snorts, but you can hear a hint of fondness in it. At least he knows who Taemin is.
It kind of gives her hope. Maybe they haven't drifted that apart yet.
“Yeah, I'd totally do him if he wasn't... Taemin's age,” she continues with that nonchalant tone of hers.
He chuckles, but still says nothing. Not only is he a guy, but he's also a naturally quiet one. It sometimes - most of the time - pisses her off because she might rant a lot - to him and other people - but he is the only person whom she talks a lot to and he hasn't been there for the past few months - is it year now - when she...
“You're selfish,” she says in her bitchy tone - Heechul tone, she likes to call it.
He suddenly lifts his head to look at her. She ignores him.
“And uncaring,” she continues. “And cruel.”
His eyes are now round and he's about to deny all of it when she finally looks at him in the eyes. And she has those really big shiny eyes, and he's always been fond of them, but they totally make him weak and silent when they are too shiny.
She sighs in return and looks up to the ceiling because her scientific self thinks that if she looks up, she won't let anything come down. She takes a few deep breaths.
She always tries to act strong, even when she doesn't need to.
He is supposed to be the person she doesn't need to act in front of.
She doesn't remember that. Or maybe she doesn't want to remember. It's still kind of painful.
“I've been back in therapy for a while.”
“I know,” he says in an almost inaudible tone. She hears it because she has musician ears, and because there are only the two of them in the room.
“Dysthymia,” she says. “That's what I have.”
He nods, and still doesn't reply anything.
“It's less severe than clinical depression,” she continues as if that had been her intention all along. “It's just a pain in the ass because it's chronic depression. Means that more than a day out of two, I'm depressed.”
He nods again. She pretends to ignore him.
“They,” she talks about her other friends, her girl friends, “had to push me to see a psychiatrist. Were worried to death after I've mentioned death so many times,” she is satisfied to see the astonished look in his eyes, “Thought I needed medication or something because it definitely wasn't normal to think that death was the only solution.”
He's looking at the floor. She doesn't need to see the worry in his eyes; she can feel it surrounding him.
“They,” she continues, “had to get me out of my house so that they would be sure that I wouldn't... fall asleep to never wake up again. Had to reassure me, to constantly repeat to me that I wasn't a burden, that they didn't expect me to be happy-go-lucky all the time, that they were there for me, that I would get better, that it was hard, but I'd definitely get better.”
She doesn't say it, but he isn't stupid. You weren't there, is what she really is saying.
He feels bad. She knows it. But she's kind of a bitch, a drama queen, a Heechul, and she just wants him to feel bad.
“You could've called,” he suddenly says and she snorts.
“For what? To receive as much response as I'm receiving right now?” she snarls. “To hear words that would only crush my heart right now? To hear that my best friend doesn't seem to know what to say to me when he used to guess me so well?”
He lowers his head again. She snorts again.
“I don't know what to say,” he whispers.
He has missed so much, and she's an impatient girl; she doesn't want to tell him all of the things that have happened. She likes to rant on the spur of the moment, not re-tell long stories that she deems boring.
“You could've called too, if you cared,” she says dryly. “I understand me calling you could take you a bit aback, so you wouldn't have anything to say back to me... but if you...”
“I care.”
She sighs, “I know.”
There is a moment of silence. Holding back tears is such a hard task.
“If you... had called. I mean, you saw other people, right? Other... friends. But, what? Didn't have time to think about me? To just ring me and see if I was doing well? What would've happened if I-” she takes a deep breath, “if it had been worse. If I actually tried to act upon my feelings.”
What would've happened if I was dead, and you never knew...?
“I... I know you have your problems... but you refuse to take care of yourself and I want to take care of you, but you're so unwilling and I... I just don't have the force anymore! I can't...!”
And that's when she feels his strong arms around her. He cries first, she follows. She's sobbing against his shoulder, not at all surprised that she still has tears left after all the others times she had cried.
“I'm sorry.” She barely hears it, her hearing buzzed by the sounds of cries.
She opens her mouth to say something back.
“I miss you.”
He said it instead.
________________________________________________
Don't worry, I have more positive pieces coming up! lol Slowly returning back to the world of fanfiction...