a different type of battle
Title: A different type of battle
Rating: PG
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Word Count: 1,380
Summary: Wooyoung muses on his relationship with Nichkhun and confronts him about it.
Notes: Kinda shitty. I can't help but be drawn to this couple for angst ]:
Love is precarious. It can be pulled this way and that, and without reason its ties snap, and you’re left falling over the cliff, tumbling without reason or thoughts into an abyss. Its cut is precise and clean, you hardly feel the grasp on you crumble away; you only feel the aftermath. The aftermath, Wooyoung muses, is the beginning to an end. He thinks -no, knows- that it can only get better from here. Once you’ve crashed so far down you can’t see light anymore, you can only go up. This is the mantra Wooyoung chants to himself, abides by until the fragile hope cracks in his hands, fractures into a million pieces and slices his heart into a thousand more.
Nichkhun’s love is like the night sky to Wooyoung; all encompassing, vast, speckled with all the wonder and mystery of the universe. His smile is like the brightest star, outshining everything and capturing the attention of all who lays eyes on it. Wooyoung can’t tear himself away from him, cannot bear to cut the cables of attraction binding himself to Nichkhun, so it becomes a bit of a slap to him, an arrow piercing a glass heart, when Nichkhun cuts the ties himself.
It’s funny how much one person can change a life. It’s amazing how meetings are never a coincidence, and words are never accidental. Their intentions may not be on purpose but the meaning is still apparent, as clear as the looking glass Wooyoung peers through. He should have never met Nichkhun. He should have never kept Nichkhun’s love within his heart, burning so brightly and solid that it was tangible enough to touch-but unable to be put out. He’s been trying for months now and nothing has worked.
Wooyoung stares at ceiling. He counts the tiles--thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six--in an effort for circadian rhythms to overcome him. His thoughts orbits around Nichkhun. He tosses and turns in his blankets, willing unconsciousness to hit him and black out his thoughts. Nothing comes to him. Wooyoung sighs for what feels like the tenth time that minute, and slowly stands to his feet, his body gravitating itself to the only sun it knows.
He enters the room quietly, careful to not make any noise. He can hear steady breathing, he can hear his jittery heart flop inside of him, he turns back-he’s made a mistake, he can’t repair broken things, broken hearts. His hand is on the door, contemplating a decision.
“Wooyoung.”
He fingers slip on the door knob, his body instinctively freezing to the only voice it longs for.
“Wooyoung, come here.”
He wants to say No, I’m tired of being empty, of missing you, of this distance between us, please just let me go, but his body seems to have an agenda of its own and he finds himself taking tiny steps towards Nichkhun until he is staring at the other laying on his bed, eyes closed, face unreadable in the dark.
“Can’t sleep?”
Wooyoung shakes his head, realizing a second too late that Nichkhun wouldn’t be able to see him, and opens his mouth to respond.
“Sleep here tonight.” Nichkhun’s voice is barely just above a whisper, but it sounds amplified, like the sounds of crashing waves, like a pin dropping in a silent room, like a heart struggling to be revived.
He closes his mouth and opens it again, wanting to shout scathing words at him, to do anything to get his swirling emotions out, to be free of their grip on him. Before he could muster even a breath, Nichkhun tugs his arm and he topples on him as easily as a wrong Jenga piece taken out of the tower. Wooyoung squirms on top of Nichkhun’s body, disorientated and suffocated as he tries to shove the arms that naturally curl around his waist like vines to a trellis. His stomach twists as the familiar scent of Thailand incense, that special soap that he got him for Christmas last year, and just the heady smell of Nichkhun himself, overwhelm his senses again, bringing back broken love and shattered memories with them.
Wooyoung in a show of strength thrashes against those arms he knew as well as his own and rolls away.
“Wooyoung don’t go.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Why can’t you be honest with me?” Nichkhun’s soft voice pleads to him from behind. “I know-“
“You know what?” Wooyoung feels his world tilt at his feet.
“-that you still love me.” His voice is barely audible. “Why can’t you just be honest for once and tell me what you feel instead of spitting out insults at me and making assumptions-“
“You want some honesty Nichkhun? Here’s some honesty for you,” he says angrily to the ceiling, “I want to be showered with only your attention until I drown; I want so much love from you to be crammed down my throat that I choke. You face is scorched into the back of my eyelids, branded into my every thought.” Wooyoung grimaces as words he only though spilled forth from his lips.
It’s funny how the truth sounds so ugly.
“Wooyoung…” Nichkhun reaches out for him, tries to pull him closer to his body. Wooyoung is limp in his grasp, a dead weight.
“No don’t try, this was a mistake.” Loving you was a mistake. “I have to wake up early.” Wooyoung gets up to leave, but is anchored down again by a firm hold on his arms. “Let me go, Nichkhun.”
“I don’t think you understand how hard that is Wooyoung.”
“I don’t love you anymore Nichkhun.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“How do you know?” Wooyoung turns angrily back to face him, “How could you possibly know my feelings before I even know them?”
“You don’t hate me.” He puts simply, in a sad tone. “If you hated me it would have been easier to break away, to distance myself away from you.”
“I’m going now Nichkhun.”
“Don’t leave me.” Nichkhun’s voice strains at the last syllable. Wooyoung can hear the snapping of his will, the sound of it dropping to the ground piece by piece.
“After all that you’ve done-“
“I’m sorry.” Nichkhun pulls him back into his arms, a breathy voice in his ears. “I know I say that a lot lately and I know it lost its meaning before I could even think it, but I am. I’m sorry for saying I hated you, I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m just-I’m just sorry for everything. I just want you to forgive me and-“
“Well you’re going to be bitterly disappointed.” He struggles weakly in Nichkhun’s arms, having lost before he barely begun.
“Please.”
Wooyoung’s will, the one thing that he had control over, crumbles completely at that voice. All of the walls that he’s built up, all of the anger that he’s horded into a tight ball of resentment, all of it dissipated at the singular word. He knows that his heart is not his own, not his to control, not his to give away. He thought it was until Nichkhun crashed into his life and claimed it and never once did Wooyoung want it back. Not after the break, not after the denials, not after he had to pick up the pieces of his own heart. Nichkhun is Nichkhun and Wooyoung is Wooyoung, and he can’t get away from the hold Nichkhun has on him even if he tried.
“Will you sleep with me tonight?” Nichkhun’s voice is tantalizing in his ears, a double entendre that Wooyoung did not miss.
“Only if I’m the big spoon.” Wooyoung relents, kicking at his calves (he wasn’t going to be that forgiving just yet) and pushing Nichkhun towards the wall.
Nichkhun laughed out loud, a hypnotizing sound that echoes in Wooyoung’s ears long after its gone, and turns, lending a view of his bare back. Nichkhun fumbles for Wooyoung’s arms from behind him and pulls him closer; sliding his hands down and pulling them over his body, bringing them up to his face. Wooyoung burrowed himself against the soft warmth of Nichkhun’s back, while Nichkhun kissed affection and promises into the small palms.
Rating: PG
Fandom: 2PM
Pairing: Nichkhun/Wooyoung
Word Count: 1,380
Summary: Wooyoung muses on his relationship with Nichkhun and confronts him about it.
Notes: Kinda shitty. I can't help but be drawn to this couple for angst ]:
Love is precarious. It can be pulled this way and that, and without reason its ties snap, and you’re left falling over the cliff, tumbling without reason or thoughts into an abyss. Its cut is precise and clean, you hardly feel the grasp on you crumble away; you only feel the aftermath. The aftermath, Wooyoung muses, is the beginning to an end. He thinks -no, knows- that it can only get better from here. Once you’ve crashed so far down you can’t see light anymore, you can only go up. This is the mantra Wooyoung chants to himself, abides by until the fragile hope cracks in his hands, fractures into a million pieces and slices his heart into a thousand more.
Nichkhun’s love is like the night sky to Wooyoung; all encompassing, vast, speckled with all the wonder and mystery of the universe. His smile is like the brightest star, outshining everything and capturing the attention of all who lays eyes on it. Wooyoung can’t tear himself away from him, cannot bear to cut the cables of attraction binding himself to Nichkhun, so it becomes a bit of a slap to him, an arrow piercing a glass heart, when Nichkhun cuts the ties himself.
It’s funny how much one person can change a life. It’s amazing how meetings are never a coincidence, and words are never accidental. Their intentions may not be on purpose but the meaning is still apparent, as clear as the looking glass Wooyoung peers through. He should have never met Nichkhun. He should have never kept Nichkhun’s love within his heart, burning so brightly and solid that it was tangible enough to touch-but unable to be put out. He’s been trying for months now and nothing has worked.
Wooyoung stares at ceiling. He counts the tiles--thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six--in an effort for circadian rhythms to overcome him. His thoughts orbits around Nichkhun. He tosses and turns in his blankets, willing unconsciousness to hit him and black out his thoughts. Nothing comes to him. Wooyoung sighs for what feels like the tenth time that minute, and slowly stands to his feet, his body gravitating itself to the only sun it knows.
He enters the room quietly, careful to not make any noise. He can hear steady breathing, he can hear his jittery heart flop inside of him, he turns back-he’s made a mistake, he can’t repair broken things, broken hearts. His hand is on the door, contemplating a decision.
“Wooyoung.”
He fingers slip on the door knob, his body instinctively freezing to the only voice it longs for.
“Wooyoung, come here.”
He wants to say No, I’m tired of being empty, of missing you, of this distance between us, please just let me go, but his body seems to have an agenda of its own and he finds himself taking tiny steps towards Nichkhun until he is staring at the other laying on his bed, eyes closed, face unreadable in the dark.
“Can’t sleep?”
Wooyoung shakes his head, realizing a second too late that Nichkhun wouldn’t be able to see him, and opens his mouth to respond.
“Sleep here tonight.” Nichkhun’s voice is barely just above a whisper, but it sounds amplified, like the sounds of crashing waves, like a pin dropping in a silent room, like a heart struggling to be revived.
He closes his mouth and opens it again, wanting to shout scathing words at him, to do anything to get his swirling emotions out, to be free of their grip on him. Before he could muster even a breath, Nichkhun tugs his arm and he topples on him as easily as a wrong Jenga piece taken out of the tower. Wooyoung squirms on top of Nichkhun’s body, disorientated and suffocated as he tries to shove the arms that naturally curl around his waist like vines to a trellis. His stomach twists as the familiar scent of Thailand incense, that special soap that he got him for Christmas last year, and just the heady smell of Nichkhun himself, overwhelm his senses again, bringing back broken love and shattered memories with them.
Wooyoung in a show of strength thrashes against those arms he knew as well as his own and rolls away.
“Wooyoung don’t go.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Why can’t you be honest with me?” Nichkhun’s soft voice pleads to him from behind. “I know-“
“You know what?” Wooyoung feels his world tilt at his feet.
“-that you still love me.” His voice is barely audible. “Why can’t you just be honest for once and tell me what you feel instead of spitting out insults at me and making assumptions-“
“You want some honesty Nichkhun? Here’s some honesty for you,” he says angrily to the ceiling, “I want to be showered with only your attention until I drown; I want so much love from you to be crammed down my throat that I choke. You face is scorched into the back of my eyelids, branded into my every thought.” Wooyoung grimaces as words he only though spilled forth from his lips.
It’s funny how the truth sounds so ugly.
“Wooyoung…” Nichkhun reaches out for him, tries to pull him closer to his body. Wooyoung is limp in his grasp, a dead weight.
“No don’t try, this was a mistake.” Loving you was a mistake. “I have to wake up early.” Wooyoung gets up to leave, but is anchored down again by a firm hold on his arms. “Let me go, Nichkhun.”
“I don’t think you understand how hard that is Wooyoung.”
“I don’t love you anymore Nichkhun.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“How do you know?” Wooyoung turns angrily back to face him, “How could you possibly know my feelings before I even know them?”
“You don’t hate me.” He puts simply, in a sad tone. “If you hated me it would have been easier to break away, to distance myself away from you.”
“I’m going now Nichkhun.”
“Don’t leave me.” Nichkhun’s voice strains at the last syllable. Wooyoung can hear the snapping of his will, the sound of it dropping to the ground piece by piece.
“After all that you’ve done-“
“I’m sorry.” Nichkhun pulls him back into his arms, a breathy voice in his ears. “I know I say that a lot lately and I know it lost its meaning before I could even think it, but I am. I’m sorry for saying I hated you, I’m sorry for lying to you, I’m just-I’m just sorry for everything. I just want you to forgive me and-“
“Well you’re going to be bitterly disappointed.” He struggles weakly in Nichkhun’s arms, having lost before he barely begun.
“Please.”
Wooyoung’s will, the one thing that he had control over, crumbles completely at that voice. All of the walls that he’s built up, all of the anger that he’s horded into a tight ball of resentment, all of it dissipated at the singular word. He knows that his heart is not his own, not his to control, not his to give away. He thought it was until Nichkhun crashed into his life and claimed it and never once did Wooyoung want it back. Not after the break, not after the denials, not after he had to pick up the pieces of his own heart. Nichkhun is Nichkhun and Wooyoung is Wooyoung, and he can’t get away from the hold Nichkhun has on him even if he tried.
“Will you sleep with me tonight?” Nichkhun’s voice is tantalizing in his ears, a double entendre that Wooyoung did not miss.
“Only if I’m the big spoon.” Wooyoung relents, kicking at his calves (he wasn’t going to be that forgiving just yet) and pushing Nichkhun towards the wall.
Nichkhun laughed out loud, a hypnotizing sound that echoes in Wooyoung’s ears long after its gone, and turns, lending a view of his bare back. Nichkhun fumbles for Wooyoung’s arms from behind him and pulls him closer; sliding his hands down and pulling them over his body, bringing them up to his face. Wooyoung burrowed himself against the soft warmth of Nichkhun’s back, while Nichkhun kissed affection and promises into the small palms.