three drabbles
one: broken.
broken!jongkey. angst. 138 words.
he finds it harder to breathe with each passing second.
note: originally planned as part of a chaptered fic, but then i realised i'd probably never finish it.
He feels like everyone’s laughing at him, that everyone’s in on it when he looks up by chance and sees them holding hands.
It takes all of three seconds for him to get over the shock until all he can feel is anger - rage - pooling in the pit of his stomach and threatening to bubble over into a stream of words, accusations that he doesn’t even mean (- or does he?).
He closes his eyes and counts to three before turning around and heading back the way he came. There’s a sinking feeling that starts somewhere in his chest, like his lungs are being dragged someplace they shouldn’t be, and he finds it harder to breathe with each passing second. By the time he reaches their apartment, he’s gasping for air and willing the tears to stop falling.
- * -
two: hello, world (goodbye)
key-centric. angst. 434 words.
kibum is frightened of his lack of fear.
note: sensitive topic.
Tick tick tick.
Why did they even have an analogue clock anymore? Kibum had wondered. On any other occasion, the sound would have been maddening, but for the time being he was just happy to have something to fill the silence and maybe - just maybe - lull him to sleep.
It was nights like these that he hated the most; the nights that drew him from the comfort of his bed out into the lounge. He wasn't quite sure what drew him out to the lounge room of all places (surely outside would have seemed more rational; less likely to be noticed,) but it was just where he went. It was routine now. Routine in the sense that it happened so often that he expected it, and not in that he was used to it. He'd never be used to it, no.
It wasn't the sort of thing you just got used to. The vicious thoughts popped into Kibum's mind at all sorts of times, even taking him by surprise on occasion. The nightmares started not long after the thoughts themselves. Only days later, maybe?
It was as though the whole scheme had manifested itself in his brain and rewired everything so that he could no longer function without such thoughts. The frequency with which he envisioned himself taking that step and meeting with cold, hard metal followed by the screeching sound of train brakes was rather frightening and - more often than not - left him in tears.
One such image had been the one to draw him from the comfort of his covers tonight, too. He hadn't slept. He'd tried, but like some demon, the image crept its way into his psyche and left him pale and shaking.
Hiding it made it easier, though. Or so he told himself. It made it easier because he wasn't burdening anyone and that fact made him feel a little better about himself. Just a little. Because, if nothing else, Kibum was usually a burden - a mere obstacle in the way, causing problems, saying things he shouldn't say. It was what he did.
He could feel a sob working its way out of him as he pulled his knees to his chest, searching for comfort and familiarity in the darkness, but he held it back for fear he'd be overheard. He swallowed down his sobs, his fears, his apprehensions, and his hope. Because suddenly the blaring headlights of a train at nighttime didn't spark fear in him, no. In fact, he welcomed it.
And it was that welcoming that frightened him more than anything.
- * -
three: faded memories.
onkey (key-centric). angst. 148 words.
nothing more than faded memories.
note: sensitive topic.
The way Kibum’s heart speeds up as he raises his eyes to meet Jinki’s is inevitable. He knew Jinki was going to notice some day (he'd never quite kicked the habit of absentmindedly rubbing his wrist when he was nervous or bored).
‘Kibum,’ Jinki reaches out to the younger boy, but his hand closes around empty air as Kibum flinches away. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Key?’ The poorly-masked hurt that is swimming in the elder’s eyes is the only thing stopping Kibum from laughing at the older male and telling him it’s nothing - just as he does when anyone else asks.
The pair seems to be in some sort of silent stand off for a few seconds before Kibum closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, trying to calm his erratically beating heart before answering his hyung.
‘They’re just scars, hyung; faded memories, is all.’
- - -
a/n: idk. i'm an ass for posting angst on christmas day, but i don't feel very festive anyway. whatever. fuck everything. i think the crappiness of these reflect my mood lately. sorry.
comments are always appreciated. ♥
(i just realised that these three could almost pan out as a disjointed story of their own, if you feel like piecing them together.)
broken!jongkey. angst. 138 words.
he finds it harder to breathe with each passing second.
note: originally planned as part of a chaptered fic, but then i realised i'd probably never finish it.
He feels like everyone’s laughing at him, that everyone’s in on it when he looks up by chance and sees them holding hands.
It takes all of three seconds for him to get over the shock until all he can feel is anger - rage - pooling in the pit of his stomach and threatening to bubble over into a stream of words, accusations that he doesn’t even mean (- or does he?).
He closes his eyes and counts to three before turning around and heading back the way he came. There’s a sinking feeling that starts somewhere in his chest, like his lungs are being dragged someplace they shouldn’t be, and he finds it harder to breathe with each passing second. By the time he reaches their apartment, he’s gasping for air and willing the tears to stop falling.
- * -
two: hello, world (goodbye)
key-centric. angst. 434 words.
kibum is frightened of his lack of fear.
note: sensitive topic.
Tick tick tick.
Why did they even have an analogue clock anymore? Kibum had wondered. On any other occasion, the sound would have been maddening, but for the time being he was just happy to have something to fill the silence and maybe - just maybe - lull him to sleep.
It was nights like these that he hated the most; the nights that drew him from the comfort of his bed out into the lounge. He wasn't quite sure what drew him out to the lounge room of all places (surely outside would have seemed more rational; less likely to be noticed,) but it was just where he went. It was routine now. Routine in the sense that it happened so often that he expected it, and not in that he was used to it. He'd never be used to it, no.
It wasn't the sort of thing you just got used to. The vicious thoughts popped into Kibum's mind at all sorts of times, even taking him by surprise on occasion. The nightmares started not long after the thoughts themselves. Only days later, maybe?
It was as though the whole scheme had manifested itself in his brain and rewired everything so that he could no longer function without such thoughts. The frequency with which he envisioned himself taking that step and meeting with cold, hard metal followed by the screeching sound of train brakes was rather frightening and - more often than not - left him in tears.
One such image had been the one to draw him from the comfort of his covers tonight, too. He hadn't slept. He'd tried, but like some demon, the image crept its way into his psyche and left him pale and shaking.
Hiding it made it easier, though. Or so he told himself. It made it easier because he wasn't burdening anyone and that fact made him feel a little better about himself. Just a little. Because, if nothing else, Kibum was usually a burden - a mere obstacle in the way, causing problems, saying things he shouldn't say. It was what he did.
He could feel a sob working its way out of him as he pulled his knees to his chest, searching for comfort and familiarity in the darkness, but he held it back for fear he'd be overheard. He swallowed down his sobs, his fears, his apprehensions, and his hope. Because suddenly the blaring headlights of a train at nighttime didn't spark fear in him, no. In fact, he welcomed it.
And it was that welcoming that frightened him more than anything.
- * -
three: faded memories.
onkey (key-centric). angst. 148 words.
nothing more than faded memories.
note: sensitive topic.
The way Kibum’s heart speeds up as he raises his eyes to meet Jinki’s is inevitable. He knew Jinki was going to notice some day (he'd never quite kicked the habit of absentmindedly rubbing his wrist when he was nervous or bored).
‘Kibum,’ Jinki reaches out to the younger boy, but his hand closes around empty air as Kibum flinches away. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Key?’ The poorly-masked hurt that is swimming in the elder’s eyes is the only thing stopping Kibum from laughing at the older male and telling him it’s nothing - just as he does when anyone else asks.
The pair seems to be in some sort of silent stand off for a few seconds before Kibum closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, trying to calm his erratically beating heart before answering his hyung.
‘They’re just scars, hyung; faded memories, is all.’
- - -
a/n: idk. i'm an ass for posting angst on christmas day, but i don't feel very festive anyway. whatever. fuck everything. i think the crappiness of these reflect my mood lately. sorry.
comments are always appreciated. ♥
(i just realised that these three could almost pan out as a disjointed story of their own, if you feel like piecing them together.)