breathless [oneshot]
Title: breathless
Author: salted_taiyaki
Pairing(s): Onew x Taemin, hinted Onew x Key, Jonghyun x Key
Genre: Supernatural, romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3660
Summary: a binding promise keeps jinki under the watch of a terribly sinister gawee who demands his heart for ever and eternity.
a/n: a break from the stale writing i've been forcing myself to type out, based on several tellings from my friends (at least, the gawee part). it's got the slight have mercy feel, so it might seem a bit recycled. just goes to show how unoriginal i am, ha ha~
*gawee: what many call "sleep paralysis." however, koreans are keen on the idea that gawee are evil spirits that attack you during your days of vulnerability, weakness, etc. gawee press against you during your sleep, basically cutting off any air and leaving you paralyzed until you wake up (or, if spiritual, you cry something in your sleep like, "may the blood of Christ send you away", etc). many people claim that they encountered gawee at least once during their sleep. i personally find it to be terrifying.
He hears, in the dimly lit room, amongst the soft fluttering of his notebook pages that dance around with the light breeze of his electric fan, a rush, and he's sure that it was roaring in his ear, because he feels his head throb only seconds after. Jinki tries to pry open his eyes -- pry, because it was as if his eyelashes were sewn to his skin -- but after moments and moments of struggling, Jinki exhales and gives up. The summer heat, he's sure, was finally taking its toll on him during the most crucial days of his high school life, and he curses luck. Fortune seemed to avoid each corner he turned, lately.
Feeling parched, Jinki tries to flex his fingers around for a glass of water, but he can't move them -- and it's then when he begins to panic, because his hands are flat against the surface of his desk and aren't budging at all, despite the amount of concentration he's putting into inching them towards the forgotten, lukewarm water. His eyes finally snap open, and instantly he regrets it, because beneath his feet is a gaping hole of a grotesque red and black filling, oozing from a center beyond sight.
He opens his mouth to scream, but he can't hear anything but a deafening whir that fills his room.
Something's pressing down on him, and Jinki can feel his muscles creak under the force, the unrelenting push and shove threatening to snap his taught bones. A chill runs down his spine and he tries to whimper, tries to cry for a release of emotion, but nothing's allowed, and everything's black again.
"Promise me."
His body begins to tremble at the cold voice that rings in his ear.
"Promise me."
What, promise you what what what, his mind frantically screams, what can I possibly promise you--
"That you'll love me," the voice continues as if it's in his mind, as if it's the one freezing every functioning, operating every section of his brain except for the sliver of his conscience, "forever, until the end of time."
His heart screams no while his mind subconsciously agrees, wholeheartedly, and before he knows it, Jinki feels the weight lift from his shoulder, feels light flood through his tearing eyes that were screwed shut, feels sobs tumble from his desperate soul down to his feet.
When Jonghyun looks at him oddly the next day during class, Jinki groans in exasperation, "I'm being serious. The gawee attacked me last night and it--"
"--It made you promise that you'd love it forever?" Jonghyun finishes him off, and the boy nods furiously, until his hair is messy and all over his eyes. "Jinki, you just need sleep. You're going crazy. Stop stressing out." Gingerly, Jinki forces a smile.
"Jonghyun, I just can't. You know how important entrance exams are. I just-- I'm freaking out, and I can't help it."
Jonghyun breathes in deeply with his hands resting on Jinki's shoulders, fingers rubbing deep into tense muscle. "Honestly, hyung, just sleep with your lights on. Let things cool down and-- god damn it, close the textbook, hyung!" Jinki obeys with a muffled squawk and turns to face the boy, face sullen.
"Are you sure about that, Jonghyun? I mean, what if this gawee kills me before the test?" The smirk on Jonghyun's face makes his stomach drop.
"Believe me, hyung," he jokes, a slight punch on the shoulder to fit the mood, "I think that might be better for us all."
He knows that Jonghyun was only kidding around, that he's a natural kidder and shifts matter so it's taken lightly for all to hear, for all to believe, but the gruesome images of Jonghyun hanging from a satellite dish and of him himself contorted, twisted to fit the spiraling cycle of his washing machine shake him from his uneven sleep. Jinki screams into the dark -- the lights were on the last time he closed his eyes -- and he feels a familiar weight, accompanied by a familiar chill to the face.
"How are you?" the voice asks, nearly demands, into his ear, and Jinki can only swallow the frigid air that's just barely supplied by the crushing force. "You look so, so tired."
For the first time that night, Jinki screams, "I'm fine," though he's far from it. The weight pulls back, Jinki's breath drawn along, and it sits on the edge of his bed near his feet, where he can feel the mattress dip slightly.
"You spoke."
"I-- I spoke," he stutters back, still too afraid to open his eyes. A sharp tug on his foot forces them to flutter open, and then Jinki sees, with eyes wide and curiosity unabashed, a boy just about his height sitting, and pouting. He has slightly auburn hair, just a shade lighter than his own, but all he can see on his face, is the crooked smile that sits atop his thin lips, and his rather articulate cheek bones. Eyes are hidden behind a thin strip of black cloth. Jinki breathes in shakily.
"You're strong," the boy comments as he inches closer, as Jinki inches further back, all the while wondering when strength had finally returned. "You're stronger than the other boy."
Jinki can't help but ask, "What other boy?", and gets a scoff in response. His face loses color when the boy points to him, fingers dipped in a pale red.
"You."
Jinki manages to draw a blank, and then he asks, confidence still lost, "Who are you?"
But the boy decides not to respond, only throws his body on top of Jinki's, initially crushing the breath out of him. Jinki sees through pained eyes that the boy has a huge smile on his face, and that something fluttered underneath the fabric that streaked a most desolate bar across his otherwise pale, pretty features. He lets out a breath that he didn't know he could hold.
"My name is Taemin," he starts, legs kicking around childishly. Jinki doesn't quite know whether or not to cringe or push away the boy, and stays still as he continues. "I've been in this house for generations. But everyone's too weak. They always die before they fulfill their promise."
As every ounce of worry was replaced with liters of paranoia, Jinki scrunches his eyes shut once more. "I-- what does that mean?"
"It means they just die because they didn't fulfill their promise. I thought you were smart." A mocking pout replaces his smile and Taemin giggles behind a hand, "I don't think you can get out of yours, though."
Jinki gulps loudly, and the sign of fear doesn't go unnoticed by the spirit, who cackles, almost cutely, at the beads of cold sweat dampening Jinki's hair. And then Taemin sweetly smiles, a shy hand slipping into thin strands,
"It's good. We won't be lonely anymore."
Kibum stares at Jinki worriedly, the creases on his forehead showing once more as he leans forward and whispers softly, "Are you okay? Hyung, you look sick." Jinki only casts him a wary smile, but even Jonghyun sees through it, an arm hanging loosely over squared shoulders.
"Let's get your mind off of studying. Today, we'll go head out to the mall or something," Jonghyun suggests in an attempt to shoo away the dark circles under Jinki's eyes. "You'll drive yourself insane."
Bitterly, the boy shrugs off the curious gazes and warm hands. "Too late."
"Are you being serious about this gawee thing?" his friends scoff, and Jinki solemnly nods. "Look, it can't follow you out of the house, right? At least, when you're awake. Just avoid it for a while."
Jinki brightens, nods along with a "Yeah, yeah, you're right," and then picks up his bag with the biggest smile he can muster through the thin mask of insecurities without cracking it. "All right, let's go eat." They don't ask him what -- Kibum's look says It's obviously chicken and Jonghyun huffs --, only walk alongside him out the classroom, off of the school campus, until they reach the busy streets where mothers hauled carts and children licked off dripping ice cream from sticky fingers. Breathing in deeply, he takes a step onto the crosswalk, eyes taking in the all too bright stripes of white that were leading him to his sacred resting spot.
Kibum leaps forward, eyes wide, as he chatters, "By the way, what pages did we have to read for history class again?"
And before Jinki can turn away from the goofing Jonghyun to respond, he freezes mid-step, his eyes planted on the car that's speeding towards them at a speed beyond his imagination. He screams, yanks the two and throws them three feet back onto their sides, and instinctively covers his head with arms, whipped by the gusting wind. He hears Jonghyun holler "Jinki-hyung!" and a blood-curling shriek breezing past his ears from Kibum, and he feels, but doesn't see, a hand playfully smack him across the face.
"Dummy," the wind carries the condescending tone to his ears, blocking out the shouts of urgency and horror from the streets that box him in. Jinki finally opens his eyes and sees nothing but Kibum's welling eyes, Jonghyun's red face, and he almost breathes out a chuckle, before he falls to his knees and blanks out.
"You're supposed to love me," Taemin presses against Jinki a bit harder than the night before despite the strangled cries of protest, "me, me, me, not them."
He feels words die on his dry tongue, tumble backwards down his throat, and Jinki knows how sick he looks. Taemin's skin is so clear and glassy, reflecting everything within an inch of the boy's sight. Taemin looks down on him in disgust, mirrors his exasperated look. "You are weak, after all."
"I'm not!" he spits without feeling his chapped lips move, and Taemin pulls away, shock embedded into the thin eyebrows that raise up to his hairline. "I'm not weak, I'm-- just go away!" And he shoves the boy, hard, forcefully, an odd sense of accomplishment filling his tingling hands when Taemin stumbles backwards off the bed. But the feeling cools and dies off before he knows it, because Taemin's cheeks turn an angry red.
Taemin seethes, "You'll pay," and disappears right before Jinki's eyes. The boy groans, legs pulled up to his chest so he can feel some warmth.
Some hours later, Jinki cleans up the knife in his kitchen sink -- it's so empty, it's always empty, because his parents are away on trips and cruises and only mutter "Good luck"s into the receiver when he calls once every month, by their demand --, sighs aloud as it clatters against the steel. There are bits of apples discarded in the bin, bruised pieces and ugly indents filling it to the brim, with long strands of oranges decorating the mass with a bit of color. He breathes in softly with the tray in hand and walks back up to his bedroom, a walk that seemed so lonely for him since his middle school days.
Sitting on the carpeted floor, Jinki sets up a small table and places the tray on top of it. He folds his hands in prayer, mutters some words under his breath, and sits before the makeshift alter, two candles placed on opposite ends. Strings and strings of apologies and "I wish"s make his lips buzz, then his ears, never quite reaching his fingertips. Jinki cracks open an eye to see Taemin standing in front of him, both hands childishly placed on small hips.
"Is this what you do to apologize?" the boy asks aloud, knowing fully well that Jinki will only splutter in embarrassment. But Taemin smiles, a bit more brightly than he had planned. "Thanks."
Jinki doesn't quite know why he did it, but when Taemin sits on the opposite end of the table he had used for crafts and robots ages ago, when Taemin reaches for a fork and picks at a slice of the apples, when Taemin blissfully looks at him through the graying cloth, Jinki doesn't regret it.
He carefully chooses his words when he faces the enraged Kibum, looking as motherly as always (he receives a smack for that, but he gets enjoyment out of it anyway). "It's for your sake, guys."
"Look," Jonghyun barks as he throws down his custard, "I don't believe this bullshit. That Taemin kid or whatever -- fuck, you even gave it a name -- can't hurt us. That was just a freak accident. You're over-thinking things."
"What're those cuts from, anyway? Did you injure yourself?" Kibum holds both of Jinki's hands in his own, and the familiar rush of warmth blooms from his fingers to his cheeks. But Jinki shakes his head, closes his hands and pulls them away.
"Just let me be for a couple of days," he pleads. Jonghyun looks down at his feet, a scowl ruining his features, and Kibum only sighs as a hand runs through his bangs.
"Fine."
It's more than a few days when Jinki checks his calendar again, but as his fingers trace the boxes, he doesn't feel all that sad. He smiles quietly to himself, a tap waking him up from his reverie. Taemin sheepishly smiles, "Hey."
Taemin still takes his breath away, but it's not as uncomfortable as it was a week ago.
He calls Jonghyun and can't stop himself from gushing, from laughing softly into the receiver as he spreads out on the covers. "I don't know why," he murmurs, "but it's just so good."
"I'm glad for you, really. But ever stop to think that he isn't even human?"
Jinki stops amidst his playful rolling, breathes in deeply through the nose. "I have. And it's awkward, because he's-- well, you know."
"Not really." Jonghyun laughs from the other side. "I'm just kidding, hyung."
"He has a conscience. An ego, expressions, emotions. He might as well just be called a human." Jinki pauses in his words, hands busily pulling at the loose strands of his pillow case. "And I can touch him. Like, I think I feel blood pulsing through him, and--"
"Hyung," the boy cuts him off with a laugh, "you sound pretty perverted right now." Flustered, Jinki squawks out a "Shut up!" and reddens when Jonghyun continues to chortle into the phone, only to pause with, "Oh, sorry. Kibum's here. I'll talk to you later."
Jinki snaps his phone shut, all smiles as he nuzzles his nose in his covers, and with ease he dismisses the ancient, faint throbbing in his chest.
"It's your birthday," Taemin notes quietly while Jinki stumbles into the house, cheeks tainted red. "Are you sick?"
Jinki only shakes his head in response and stays silent as he strips himself of his blazer. The boy looks, eyes sullen and ever watchful, and with deft fingers he wraps up several dishes in foil, shoving them into the fridge before Jinki can turn around. He doesn't know when he's gotten so paranoid, so articulate or caring with his actions, but Taemin pushes the lingering thought away from his mind. His heart's thumping by the time Jinki jumps into the kitchen, the cold sweat feeling disgusting and altogether wrong on his skin. When Jinki looks at him, when Jinki reaches out to him, when Jinki softly touches him, Taemin's breath hitches. He's on his toes for reasons unknown, and he braces himself for a crash.
But the contact is gone with a drunk "Kibum kissed me today," and Taemin feels, for the first time, the burn that follows.
He hoses it down though, in a blink of covered eyes, before he grabs Jinki by the shirt and pulls him close, holds him without a mattress to help. Taemin softly breathes across his face, "I'm glad," but he clearly isn't, because the white band feels damp against his eyelashes and he's shaking in his skin as it loses its unnatural peachy color.
Jinki looks at him, puzzled, and when realization creeps up his neck to his ears, he laughs, the twinkling barely a whisper.
"I want to see," he mutters. With gentle hands, Jinki lifts the cloth over his eyes and stares down into the wide orbs glistening in fear and apprehension, so much like the boy Jinki had pictured for months, cups his face for a kiss, and guides the both of them down the hallway to his bedroom before he can stop himself, before Taemin grabs on for support.
And the heat they exchange, through touches and kisses and hot breaths and Taemin's hushed "Soon, soon"s, leaves them tingling, utterly breathless for the remaining hours of the night.
It's odd to Jinki when he wakes up the next morning, alone, with the heater buzzing dully in the background to fight off the cold. His fingers pick up droplets of tears from the sides of his face, and he sniffles unattractively, careful not to brush away the pile of dust beside his pillow.
The room's too quiet as a wave of white nothings washes over his still body.
His friends note that he looks hollow. Jonghyun glares at him with hardened eyes. "What happened to you?" The pronoun feels heavier on his heart with the implication, and Jinki forces a smile at his subtlety. Kibum only continues to lather him in words of worry.
"Gone," is all he says before he drops his head against the desk and props a book up for the rest of the afternoon lecture.
They choose to stay silent and only stick with him as he dusts out his covers under the muggy skies. He barely manages to pull them in before it starts to rain.
What am I waiting for? Jinki bemuses himself with writing and composing songs on his keyboard, as if doing so would pry his mind from the pressing matters that push and push and push on his conscience. I'm hanging on a whim here.
"Oh," he mutters aloud, "I could use that." He scribbles illegible letters onto blank sheet music, and then laughs, moans, to himself.
"Just kill me now." The desperate cry bounces off his walls and smacks him upside the face. Jinki admits his loss.
"Right now? But you haven't fulfilled your promise."
He starts at the voice, eyes scanning the room, and he sees Taemin standing there, hands on his hips like always, but his feet are attached to the ground by the natural force of gravity that had tugged so harshly on his heart strings for days. Jinki thinks he gasped, but Taemin's lips are on his too soon and too quick, easily stealing away the quiet sobs that rack through his body.
When Jinki breaks off the silence, their kiss, he mutters, "I forgot all about it."
Taemin beams, and for the first time, Jinki loses himself in his twinkling eyes. It's all too surreal, too fuzzy, too warm and comforting and dizzying and-- Jinki cuts himself off with another press of their lips.
"Why?" the syllable leaves his mouth and lands on Taemin's, buzzing, humming.
"Something like a curse," the boy chuckles through soft brushes, "and I had to break it. It's been carried on, generation after generation and-- do we have to talk right now?"
Jinki's intellect tries to reason, "But that doesn't make sense, how could you possibly just come back to life as a human and totally--?"
"Later," Taemin hums. "Much, much later."
They revel in their reactions -- Jonghyun's gaping like an idiot and Kibum's trying to clamp the boy's mouth shut, but can't help but send the two confused glances of "So that's what this was about?" -- for minutes out in the park. Taemin lets his head fall back as he breathes in the rare sunlight, tipped so he can look at Jinki from underneath him.
"This life," Jonghyun groans melodramatically, a hand draped over his forehead, "makes no sense. I long to live elsewhere." Kibum snorts at his performance and claps, mockingly, only to earn a light slap on the arm, and a soft kiss to make up for it.
Sitting atop the green metal bar, Jinki and Taemin swing their legs to and fro, hands oddly clasped together at their sides. He raises a brow to inquire, almost beg for permission, and the other mirrors the action with a lopsided smirk plastered on his face. They touch foreheads stupidly and let the brisk wind whisk away their breaths instead, alongside Jonghyun's complaints of sappy PDA and Kibum's snarky chiding.
"We're freaks of nature. And I'm quite alright with that." Jinki nods along to the conclusion.
"Promise me this," the older boy jokes with a light poke in the arm. "Promise me."
"Yeah, whatever." Taemin brushes away a stray lock of hair, tucks it behind Jinki's ear and mutters, "I promise. Or else I'll swallow a thousand pins and needles, one by one."
Jinki blinks wildly at the bold statement. "You're not immortal anymore, y'know?" Taemin flashes him a toothy smile, and then Jinki gets it. "Oh. I see."
"Let's go get some chicken," Kibum chirps above the hushed whispering. They all look up at him excitedly, and Jinki slips off the bar with his hand still interlocked with Taemin's. As they walk to the crossing, Kibum catches the slight scowl on Taemin's face -- at the realization that chicken may indeed be his only nemesis, of course -- and ruffles his hair with a free hand as if he had done so for ages.
"I swear, you'll love it," and Jinki goes on about the different menus and special services. Jonghyun rolls his eyes, muttering something along the lines of, "Look. The perfect fit." Taemin promptly shuts him up with a peck on the cheek for the umpteenth time that morning. It steals his breath and leaves him stuttering, but Jinki's sure that it's the best feeling, ever.
.end
--
started last night, finished tonight. i have this horrible habit of skipping over actual development in one shots, ha ha. this was actually supposed to be so much darker. the original prompt literally had jinki swallowing pins and needles because of a broken promise, but i didn't know how to think it through. eventually the idea was tapered down to a sappy little romance flick of the supernatural and whatever. i'm not satisfied, but it got my mind off of a lot of things, and i'm happy about that.
god whatever. hopefully you guys enjoyed. comments always appreciated, ha ha.
Author: salted_taiyaki
Pairing(s): Onew x Taemin, hinted Onew x Key, Jonghyun x Key
Genre: Supernatural, romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3660
Summary: a binding promise keeps jinki under the watch of a terribly sinister gawee who demands his heart for ever and eternity.
a/n: a break from the stale writing i've been forcing myself to type out, based on several tellings from my friends (at least, the gawee part). it's got the slight have mercy feel, so it might seem a bit recycled. just goes to show how unoriginal i am, ha ha~
*gawee: what many call "sleep paralysis." however, koreans are keen on the idea that gawee are evil spirits that attack you during your days of vulnerability, weakness, etc. gawee press against you during your sleep, basically cutting off any air and leaving you paralyzed until you wake up (or, if spiritual, you cry something in your sleep like, "may the blood of Christ send you away", etc). many people claim that they encountered gawee at least once during their sleep. i personally find it to be terrifying.
He hears, in the dimly lit room, amongst the soft fluttering of his notebook pages that dance around with the light breeze of his electric fan, a rush, and he's sure that it was roaring in his ear, because he feels his head throb only seconds after. Jinki tries to pry open his eyes -- pry, because it was as if his eyelashes were sewn to his skin -- but after moments and moments of struggling, Jinki exhales and gives up. The summer heat, he's sure, was finally taking its toll on him during the most crucial days of his high school life, and he curses luck. Fortune seemed to avoid each corner he turned, lately.
Feeling parched, Jinki tries to flex his fingers around for a glass of water, but he can't move them -- and it's then when he begins to panic, because his hands are flat against the surface of his desk and aren't budging at all, despite the amount of concentration he's putting into inching them towards the forgotten, lukewarm water. His eyes finally snap open, and instantly he regrets it, because beneath his feet is a gaping hole of a grotesque red and black filling, oozing from a center beyond sight.
He opens his mouth to scream, but he can't hear anything but a deafening whir that fills his room.
Something's pressing down on him, and Jinki can feel his muscles creak under the force, the unrelenting push and shove threatening to snap his taught bones. A chill runs down his spine and he tries to whimper, tries to cry for a release of emotion, but nothing's allowed, and everything's black again.
"Promise me."
His body begins to tremble at the cold voice that rings in his ear.
"Promise me."
What, promise you what what what, his mind frantically screams, what can I possibly promise you--
"That you'll love me," the voice continues as if it's in his mind, as if it's the one freezing every functioning, operating every section of his brain except for the sliver of his conscience, "forever, until the end of time."
His heart screams no while his mind subconsciously agrees, wholeheartedly, and before he knows it, Jinki feels the weight lift from his shoulder, feels light flood through his tearing eyes that were screwed shut, feels sobs tumble from his desperate soul down to his feet.
When Jonghyun looks at him oddly the next day during class, Jinki groans in exasperation, "I'm being serious. The gawee attacked me last night and it--"
"--It made you promise that you'd love it forever?" Jonghyun finishes him off, and the boy nods furiously, until his hair is messy and all over his eyes. "Jinki, you just need sleep. You're going crazy. Stop stressing out." Gingerly, Jinki forces a smile.
"Jonghyun, I just can't. You know how important entrance exams are. I just-- I'm freaking out, and I can't help it."
Jonghyun breathes in deeply with his hands resting on Jinki's shoulders, fingers rubbing deep into tense muscle. "Honestly, hyung, just sleep with your lights on. Let things cool down and-- god damn it, close the textbook, hyung!" Jinki obeys with a muffled squawk and turns to face the boy, face sullen.
"Are you sure about that, Jonghyun? I mean, what if this gawee kills me before the test?" The smirk on Jonghyun's face makes his stomach drop.
"Believe me, hyung," he jokes, a slight punch on the shoulder to fit the mood, "I think that might be better for us all."
He knows that Jonghyun was only kidding around, that he's a natural kidder and shifts matter so it's taken lightly for all to hear, for all to believe, but the gruesome images of Jonghyun hanging from a satellite dish and of him himself contorted, twisted to fit the spiraling cycle of his washing machine shake him from his uneven sleep. Jinki screams into the dark -- the lights were on the last time he closed his eyes -- and he feels a familiar weight, accompanied by a familiar chill to the face.
"How are you?" the voice asks, nearly demands, into his ear, and Jinki can only swallow the frigid air that's just barely supplied by the crushing force. "You look so, so tired."
For the first time that night, Jinki screams, "I'm fine," though he's far from it. The weight pulls back, Jinki's breath drawn along, and it sits on the edge of his bed near his feet, where he can feel the mattress dip slightly.
"You spoke."
"I-- I spoke," he stutters back, still too afraid to open his eyes. A sharp tug on his foot forces them to flutter open, and then Jinki sees, with eyes wide and curiosity unabashed, a boy just about his height sitting, and pouting. He has slightly auburn hair, just a shade lighter than his own, but all he can see on his face, is the crooked smile that sits atop his thin lips, and his rather articulate cheek bones. Eyes are hidden behind a thin strip of black cloth. Jinki breathes in shakily.
"You're strong," the boy comments as he inches closer, as Jinki inches further back, all the while wondering when strength had finally returned. "You're stronger than the other boy."
Jinki can't help but ask, "What other boy?", and gets a scoff in response. His face loses color when the boy points to him, fingers dipped in a pale red.
"You."
Jinki manages to draw a blank, and then he asks, confidence still lost, "Who are you?"
But the boy decides not to respond, only throws his body on top of Jinki's, initially crushing the breath out of him. Jinki sees through pained eyes that the boy has a huge smile on his face, and that something fluttered underneath the fabric that streaked a most desolate bar across his otherwise pale, pretty features. He lets out a breath that he didn't know he could hold.
"My name is Taemin," he starts, legs kicking around childishly. Jinki doesn't quite know whether or not to cringe or push away the boy, and stays still as he continues. "I've been in this house for generations. But everyone's too weak. They always die before they fulfill their promise."
As every ounce of worry was replaced with liters of paranoia, Jinki scrunches his eyes shut once more. "I-- what does that mean?"
"It means they just die because they didn't fulfill their promise. I thought you were smart." A mocking pout replaces his smile and Taemin giggles behind a hand, "I don't think you can get out of yours, though."
Jinki gulps loudly, and the sign of fear doesn't go unnoticed by the spirit, who cackles, almost cutely, at the beads of cold sweat dampening Jinki's hair. And then Taemin sweetly smiles, a shy hand slipping into thin strands,
"It's good. We won't be lonely anymore."
Kibum stares at Jinki worriedly, the creases on his forehead showing once more as he leans forward and whispers softly, "Are you okay? Hyung, you look sick." Jinki only casts him a wary smile, but even Jonghyun sees through it, an arm hanging loosely over squared shoulders.
"Let's get your mind off of studying. Today, we'll go head out to the mall or something," Jonghyun suggests in an attempt to shoo away the dark circles under Jinki's eyes. "You'll drive yourself insane."
Bitterly, the boy shrugs off the curious gazes and warm hands. "Too late."
"Are you being serious about this gawee thing?" his friends scoff, and Jinki solemnly nods. "Look, it can't follow you out of the house, right? At least, when you're awake. Just avoid it for a while."
Jinki brightens, nods along with a "Yeah, yeah, you're right," and then picks up his bag with the biggest smile he can muster through the thin mask of insecurities without cracking it. "All right, let's go eat." They don't ask him what -- Kibum's look says It's obviously chicken and Jonghyun huffs --, only walk alongside him out the classroom, off of the school campus, until they reach the busy streets where mothers hauled carts and children licked off dripping ice cream from sticky fingers. Breathing in deeply, he takes a step onto the crosswalk, eyes taking in the all too bright stripes of white that were leading him to his sacred resting spot.
Kibum leaps forward, eyes wide, as he chatters, "By the way, what pages did we have to read for history class again?"
And before Jinki can turn away from the goofing Jonghyun to respond, he freezes mid-step, his eyes planted on the car that's speeding towards them at a speed beyond his imagination. He screams, yanks the two and throws them three feet back onto their sides, and instinctively covers his head with arms, whipped by the gusting wind. He hears Jonghyun holler "Jinki-hyung!" and a blood-curling shriek breezing past his ears from Kibum, and he feels, but doesn't see, a hand playfully smack him across the face.
"Dummy," the wind carries the condescending tone to his ears, blocking out the shouts of urgency and horror from the streets that box him in. Jinki finally opens his eyes and sees nothing but Kibum's welling eyes, Jonghyun's red face, and he almost breathes out a chuckle, before he falls to his knees and blanks out.
"You're supposed to love me," Taemin presses against Jinki a bit harder than the night before despite the strangled cries of protest, "me, me, me, not them."
He feels words die on his dry tongue, tumble backwards down his throat, and Jinki knows how sick he looks. Taemin's skin is so clear and glassy, reflecting everything within an inch of the boy's sight. Taemin looks down on him in disgust, mirrors his exasperated look. "You are weak, after all."
"I'm not!" he spits without feeling his chapped lips move, and Taemin pulls away, shock embedded into the thin eyebrows that raise up to his hairline. "I'm not weak, I'm-- just go away!" And he shoves the boy, hard, forcefully, an odd sense of accomplishment filling his tingling hands when Taemin stumbles backwards off the bed. But the feeling cools and dies off before he knows it, because Taemin's cheeks turn an angry red.
Taemin seethes, "You'll pay," and disappears right before Jinki's eyes. The boy groans, legs pulled up to his chest so he can feel some warmth.
Some hours later, Jinki cleans up the knife in his kitchen sink -- it's so empty, it's always empty, because his parents are away on trips and cruises and only mutter "Good luck"s into the receiver when he calls once every month, by their demand --, sighs aloud as it clatters against the steel. There are bits of apples discarded in the bin, bruised pieces and ugly indents filling it to the brim, with long strands of oranges decorating the mass with a bit of color. He breathes in softly with the tray in hand and walks back up to his bedroom, a walk that seemed so lonely for him since his middle school days.
Sitting on the carpeted floor, Jinki sets up a small table and places the tray on top of it. He folds his hands in prayer, mutters some words under his breath, and sits before the makeshift alter, two candles placed on opposite ends. Strings and strings of apologies and "I wish"s make his lips buzz, then his ears, never quite reaching his fingertips. Jinki cracks open an eye to see Taemin standing in front of him, both hands childishly placed on small hips.
"Is this what you do to apologize?" the boy asks aloud, knowing fully well that Jinki will only splutter in embarrassment. But Taemin smiles, a bit more brightly than he had planned. "Thanks."
Jinki doesn't quite know why he did it, but when Taemin sits on the opposite end of the table he had used for crafts and robots ages ago, when Taemin reaches for a fork and picks at a slice of the apples, when Taemin blissfully looks at him through the graying cloth, Jinki doesn't regret it.
He carefully chooses his words when he faces the enraged Kibum, looking as motherly as always (he receives a smack for that, but he gets enjoyment out of it anyway). "It's for your sake, guys."
"Look," Jonghyun barks as he throws down his custard, "I don't believe this bullshit. That Taemin kid or whatever -- fuck, you even gave it a name -- can't hurt us. That was just a freak accident. You're over-thinking things."
"What're those cuts from, anyway? Did you injure yourself?" Kibum holds both of Jinki's hands in his own, and the familiar rush of warmth blooms from his fingers to his cheeks. But Jinki shakes his head, closes his hands and pulls them away.
"Just let me be for a couple of days," he pleads. Jonghyun looks down at his feet, a scowl ruining his features, and Kibum only sighs as a hand runs through his bangs.
"Fine."
It's more than a few days when Jinki checks his calendar again, but as his fingers trace the boxes, he doesn't feel all that sad. He smiles quietly to himself, a tap waking him up from his reverie. Taemin sheepishly smiles, "Hey."
Taemin still takes his breath away, but it's not as uncomfortable as it was a week ago.
He calls Jonghyun and can't stop himself from gushing, from laughing softly into the receiver as he spreads out on the covers. "I don't know why," he murmurs, "but it's just so good."
"I'm glad for you, really. But ever stop to think that he isn't even human?"
Jinki stops amidst his playful rolling, breathes in deeply through the nose. "I have. And it's awkward, because he's-- well, you know."
"Not really." Jonghyun laughs from the other side. "I'm just kidding, hyung."
"He has a conscience. An ego, expressions, emotions. He might as well just be called a human." Jinki pauses in his words, hands busily pulling at the loose strands of his pillow case. "And I can touch him. Like, I think I feel blood pulsing through him, and--"
"Hyung," the boy cuts him off with a laugh, "you sound pretty perverted right now." Flustered, Jinki squawks out a "Shut up!" and reddens when Jonghyun continues to chortle into the phone, only to pause with, "Oh, sorry. Kibum's here. I'll talk to you later."
Jinki snaps his phone shut, all smiles as he nuzzles his nose in his covers, and with ease he dismisses the ancient, faint throbbing in his chest.
"It's your birthday," Taemin notes quietly while Jinki stumbles into the house, cheeks tainted red. "Are you sick?"
Jinki only shakes his head in response and stays silent as he strips himself of his blazer. The boy looks, eyes sullen and ever watchful, and with deft fingers he wraps up several dishes in foil, shoving them into the fridge before Jinki can turn around. He doesn't know when he's gotten so paranoid, so articulate or caring with his actions, but Taemin pushes the lingering thought away from his mind. His heart's thumping by the time Jinki jumps into the kitchen, the cold sweat feeling disgusting and altogether wrong on his skin. When Jinki looks at him, when Jinki reaches out to him, when Jinki softly touches him, Taemin's breath hitches. He's on his toes for reasons unknown, and he braces himself for a crash.
But the contact is gone with a drunk "Kibum kissed me today," and Taemin feels, for the first time, the burn that follows.
He hoses it down though, in a blink of covered eyes, before he grabs Jinki by the shirt and pulls him close, holds him without a mattress to help. Taemin softly breathes across his face, "I'm glad," but he clearly isn't, because the white band feels damp against his eyelashes and he's shaking in his skin as it loses its unnatural peachy color.
Jinki looks at him, puzzled, and when realization creeps up his neck to his ears, he laughs, the twinkling barely a whisper.
"I want to see," he mutters. With gentle hands, Jinki lifts the cloth over his eyes and stares down into the wide orbs glistening in fear and apprehension, so much like the boy Jinki had pictured for months, cups his face for a kiss, and guides the both of them down the hallway to his bedroom before he can stop himself, before Taemin grabs on for support.
And the heat they exchange, through touches and kisses and hot breaths and Taemin's hushed "Soon, soon"s, leaves them tingling, utterly breathless for the remaining hours of the night.
It's odd to Jinki when he wakes up the next morning, alone, with the heater buzzing dully in the background to fight off the cold. His fingers pick up droplets of tears from the sides of his face, and he sniffles unattractively, careful not to brush away the pile of dust beside his pillow.
The room's too quiet as a wave of white nothings washes over his still body.
His friends note that he looks hollow. Jonghyun glares at him with hardened eyes. "What happened to you?" The pronoun feels heavier on his heart with the implication, and Jinki forces a smile at his subtlety. Kibum only continues to lather him in words of worry.
"Gone," is all he says before he drops his head against the desk and props a book up for the rest of the afternoon lecture.
They choose to stay silent and only stick with him as he dusts out his covers under the muggy skies. He barely manages to pull them in before it starts to rain.
What am I waiting for? Jinki bemuses himself with writing and composing songs on his keyboard, as if doing so would pry his mind from the pressing matters that push and push and push on his conscience. I'm hanging on a whim here.
"Oh," he mutters aloud, "I could use that." He scribbles illegible letters onto blank sheet music, and then laughs, moans, to himself.
"Just kill me now." The desperate cry bounces off his walls and smacks him upside the face. Jinki admits his loss.
"Right now? But you haven't fulfilled your promise."
He starts at the voice, eyes scanning the room, and he sees Taemin standing there, hands on his hips like always, but his feet are attached to the ground by the natural force of gravity that had tugged so harshly on his heart strings for days. Jinki thinks he gasped, but Taemin's lips are on his too soon and too quick, easily stealing away the quiet sobs that rack through his body.
When Jinki breaks off the silence, their kiss, he mutters, "I forgot all about it."
Taemin beams, and for the first time, Jinki loses himself in his twinkling eyes. It's all too surreal, too fuzzy, too warm and comforting and dizzying and-- Jinki cuts himself off with another press of their lips.
"Why?" the syllable leaves his mouth and lands on Taemin's, buzzing, humming.
"Something like a curse," the boy chuckles through soft brushes, "and I had to break it. It's been carried on, generation after generation and-- do we have to talk right now?"
Jinki's intellect tries to reason, "But that doesn't make sense, how could you possibly just come back to life as a human and totally--?"
"Later," Taemin hums. "Much, much later."
They revel in their reactions -- Jonghyun's gaping like an idiot and Kibum's trying to clamp the boy's mouth shut, but can't help but send the two confused glances of "So that's what this was about?" -- for minutes out in the park. Taemin lets his head fall back as he breathes in the rare sunlight, tipped so he can look at Jinki from underneath him.
"This life," Jonghyun groans melodramatically, a hand draped over his forehead, "makes no sense. I long to live elsewhere." Kibum snorts at his performance and claps, mockingly, only to earn a light slap on the arm, and a soft kiss to make up for it.
Sitting atop the green metal bar, Jinki and Taemin swing their legs to and fro, hands oddly clasped together at their sides. He raises a brow to inquire, almost beg for permission, and the other mirrors the action with a lopsided smirk plastered on his face. They touch foreheads stupidly and let the brisk wind whisk away their breaths instead, alongside Jonghyun's complaints of sappy PDA and Kibum's snarky chiding.
"We're freaks of nature. And I'm quite alright with that." Jinki nods along to the conclusion.
"Promise me this," the older boy jokes with a light poke in the arm. "Promise me."
"Yeah, whatever." Taemin brushes away a stray lock of hair, tucks it behind Jinki's ear and mutters, "I promise. Or else I'll swallow a thousand pins and needles, one by one."
Jinki blinks wildly at the bold statement. "You're not immortal anymore, y'know?" Taemin flashes him a toothy smile, and then Jinki gets it. "Oh. I see."
"Let's go get some chicken," Kibum chirps above the hushed whispering. They all look up at him excitedly, and Jinki slips off the bar with his hand still interlocked with Taemin's. As they walk to the crossing, Kibum catches the slight scowl on Taemin's face -- at the realization that chicken may indeed be his only nemesis, of course -- and ruffles his hair with a free hand as if he had done so for ages.
"I swear, you'll love it," and Jinki goes on about the different menus and special services. Jonghyun rolls his eyes, muttering something along the lines of, "Look. The perfect fit." Taemin promptly shuts him up with a peck on the cheek for the umpteenth time that morning. It steals his breath and leaves him stuttering, but Jinki's sure that it's the best feeling, ever.
.end
--
started last night, finished tonight. i have this horrible habit of skipping over actual development in one shots, ha ha. this was actually supposed to be so much darker. the original prompt literally had jinki swallowing pins and needles because of a broken promise, but i didn't know how to think it through. eventually the idea was tapered down to a sappy little romance flick of the supernatural and whatever. i'm not satisfied, but it got my mind off of a lot of things, and i'm happy about that.
god whatever. hopefully you guys enjoyed. comments always appreciated, ha ha.