Countdown -- 12
Measure it out in inches; Jinki/Minho; PG-13
note: I feel like there aren't enough Onho moments, but the fact is, the story is winding down... Towards the end, scroll slowly.
prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10.1 | 10.2 | 11.1 | 11.2 | 12
Chapter twelve
Maybe the Heavens finally took pity upon me.
One afternoon, I woke up from my nap to find Kibum standing by the door, bristling in his full-out defensive stance. He was hissing at someone outside whom I couldn't see at all. "Cigarette? I don't know what the fuck are you going on about. But I'm telling you nicely right now, stop bothering us. If you're not gonna piss off, then I'll be happy to call hospital security. They can help you find your way back to the psychiatric ward."
Cigarette.
My heart missed a beat.
"Kibum."
He turned to look at me. "Oh hyung, you're awake? Hang on, let me just-"
I smiled a little. "It's okay. Let him in."
He spluttered, taken aback. "Wh-Huh?! Hyung you-this-you know this guy?"
While Kibum was distracted, a head stuck itself around the door frame.
Short black hair.
Handsome features.
Large eyes slightly squinting at me from behind his double eye lids.
"Feeling like a cigarette, so I came looking for a lighter. You aren't freaked out by my serendipity, are you?"
"Of course not." I managed to mumble, eyes still wide in surprise. My heart rate would have made a hummingbird proud.
Kibum threw both of us a strange look-the explanations I would have to give later!-but as little as he knew about the current situation, he wasn't slow in taking his cues. After shifting out of the way to the man in, he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him, giving us some much welcomed privacy.
I'd held out for so long without shedding a single tear. But at the mere sight of this man, I began crying helplessly.
He scratched the side of his nose with a slightly anxious smile. It seemed as if he no longer knew how to act around me, the me who was lying in a hospital bed, almost ready to go six feet under and start pushing those daisies up. Casting glances about the room, he looked in every direction but forward as he walked over to my beside. A little stiffly, he lifted his hand up but couldn't decisively grasp mine. What a rare sight! He who had been so self-righteously assertive had become someone so unassumingly hesitant.
What had happened during our separation?
I reached out and squeezed his fingers, grinning at the thought of him having lost all his edges.
"Hey. Been a while."
"Yeah." His hand slip forward until he was able to properly hold my hand. "But I didn't expect this kind of welcome. Why are you crying and smiling?"
I broke into laughter without answering him. Using his free hand, he wiped away the tears still clinging to the corners of my eyes. I leaned into his touch and blinked, brushing my lashes against his skin. This. This was completeness. I could feel the tears welling up once more; his fingers lingered over my cheek for longer than they needed to.
But eventually his hand dropped to his side and he was considering me with those dark eyes again. My smile faded. I knew what was coming.
"How...how are you?" A roundabout start.
"Everything hurts, a lot of the time." My reply was honest, but so was the lightness in my voice. "And I'm tired, all the time."
"You......what...do you have?"
And there it was. The thing that neither of us had ever addressed.
"It's not like you would know what it is." I teased. His expression darkened reflexively and I patted the back of his hand, comforting him like a child.
"Okay, okay. I'll tell." I paused and he began caressing my knuckles with his thumb. My eyes flickered from our joined hands to his face. The corners of my mouth twitched upward. I forgot if I was trying to smile. "I'll tell."
He waited.
"It's called AMKL."
"As in...?"
"Acute megakaryoblastic leukemia." The name rolled easily off my tongue.
"Acute...leukemia?"
I chuckled.
Kibum's reaction had been much along the same lines. There were so many well-known acute disease that the meaning of acute was common knowledge. And then there was leukemia, a cancer made famous by the pens of screenwriters and novelists, by camera lenses and printing presses. But megakaryoblastic, now there was something that belonged all in a class of its own. For most people, it was the sort of vocabulary that never came in handy, if they managed to encounter it at all.
"Why do you keep on laughing at me? It doesn't seem like you're about to-" He clamped his mouth shut.
I only smiled silently at his frozen features.
Refusing to meet my eyes, he cautious rubbed my hand between his own.
"I'm sorry."
Sorry? Yeah, you better be sorry.
You showing up out of nowhere-you're messing with me.
Why is it that after hearing your apology, I am crying again?
The sight of his face blurred.
He sighed at my renewed tears. "I should be the one crying."
And then?
And then I was laughing again.
Had I gone crazy?
"You? Crying?"
Gradually, a smile crept onto his face.
"Sounds impossible, huh?"
"Exactly."
"But I've quit smoking."
We both paused.
"You're lying, aren't you?" I accused.
"And what makes you say that?" His eyebrow flew up much the same way it did months ago.
"How long has it been? How could you possibly quit this fast?"
"Why not?"
"Because you haven't been polishing up your lying skills, that's why."
"No, but see, since that night, it has been a hundred and eight days!"
We both froze, surprised at the sentence that had just slipped out of his mouth.
One hundred and eight days.
Because of me, had he been counting all along?
I was the first to recover. "......Still, you-"
He plopped himself down in Kibum's chair and conceded. "Fine, you're right. I'm in the process of quitting."
I laughed.
I laughed a lot that day.
......
With Cigarette's reentry into my life, I became more energetic and talkative. My complexion improved. Kibum was almost ecstatic and I was sure he would have twirled me around in circles if he could have done it without any risk to my well-being. From then on, he never saw Cigarette without trying to be on his best behavior. (Although he still couldn't help the occasional sharp quip.)
Cigarette always handled it with a smile.
A gracious smile.
But one that never quite reached into the depth of his eyes.
Kibum was young. He was young and he was naive, and so no one else had the heart to correct him.
But we all understood.
Such a rally wasn't a sign that I was getting better.
It only meant the end was near.
......
And then my countdown reached zero.
As usual, Cigarette came to keep me company. But in these past few days, as hard as I tried, I was only capable of lying in bed with my eyes closed, letting him hold my hand, and listening to his unceasing monologues. I didn't have the will to keep my eyes open, didn't have the strength to respond. Could barely understand what was going on around me. Today was the same. I couldn't figure out why this man whose rightful place was at the center of the universe would bother investing so much of his time in me. Why he would choose to spend day after day, watching over a dying person.
I couldn't give him anything.
I would have liked to, but I had nothing to give.
For me, even time was a scarce commodity.
And besides, I really had no right to give him anything, did I?
After all, I was not his lover.
He picked up both of my hands. Lightly, gingerly, he ran his lips over my fingertips, the back of my hand, my palms. He stood up and leaned over. Softly, sweetly, he put his lips to my forehead, the point of my nose, my eyelids.
Butterfly kisses.
There and yet not really there.
Beautiful, and yet always leaving you craving for more.
Finally, he laid his mouth flush against mine.
A shallow chaste kiss.
It lasted for an entire minute.
And for the entirety of that minute, we were motionless as one.
Then a familiar voice echoed in my ear-a smooth mesmerizing baritone-except this time around, it was a little hoarse.
"Hey Lighter, you know, my name isn't Cigarette. It's...it's Minho. Choi Minho. But hey, don't worry about it too much. You shouldn't misunderstand my intentions for telling you this now and you shouldn't feel burdened..."
He paused to take a breath.
"Lee Jinki, I don't love you."
Pfft.
You truly are eccentric, aren't you?
Here I am, about to die, and yet there you go, ruining this serious moment.
You just had to do it.
Well, what is done is done.
I can't do much to change that.
But if this is what you want it to be like, then I'll play along till the end.
With one last breath, I exhaled my final words.
"Didn't quite catch that......"
Yah. Choi Minho!
Choi Minho.
Choi Minho...
Minho-yah, are you laughing?
......
epilogue -- 0.5
note: I feel like there aren't enough Onho moments, but the fact is, the story is winding down... Towards the end, scroll slowly.
prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10.1 | 10.2 | 11.1 | 11.2 | 12
Chapter twelve
Maybe the Heavens finally took pity upon me.
One afternoon, I woke up from my nap to find Kibum standing by the door, bristling in his full-out defensive stance. He was hissing at someone outside whom I couldn't see at all. "Cigarette? I don't know what the fuck are you going on about. But I'm telling you nicely right now, stop bothering us. If you're not gonna piss off, then I'll be happy to call hospital security. They can help you find your way back to the psychiatric ward."
Cigarette.
My heart missed a beat.
"Kibum."
He turned to look at me. "Oh hyung, you're awake? Hang on, let me just-"
I smiled a little. "It's okay. Let him in."
He spluttered, taken aback. "Wh-Huh?! Hyung you-this-you know this guy?"
While Kibum was distracted, a head stuck itself around the door frame.
Short black hair.
Handsome features.
Large eyes slightly squinting at me from behind his double eye lids.
"Feeling like a cigarette, so I came looking for a lighter. You aren't freaked out by my serendipity, are you?"
"Of course not." I managed to mumble, eyes still wide in surprise. My heart rate would have made a hummingbird proud.
Kibum threw both of us a strange look-the explanations I would have to give later!-but as little as he knew about the current situation, he wasn't slow in taking his cues. After shifting out of the way to the man in, he left the room and quietly closed the door behind him, giving us some much welcomed privacy.
I'd held out for so long without shedding a single tear. But at the mere sight of this man, I began crying helplessly.
He scratched the side of his nose with a slightly anxious smile. It seemed as if he no longer knew how to act around me, the me who was lying in a hospital bed, almost ready to go six feet under and start pushing those daisies up. Casting glances about the room, he looked in every direction but forward as he walked over to my beside. A little stiffly, he lifted his hand up but couldn't decisively grasp mine. What a rare sight! He who had been so self-righteously assertive had become someone so unassumingly hesitant.
What had happened during our separation?
I reached out and squeezed his fingers, grinning at the thought of him having lost all his edges.
"Hey. Been a while."
"Yeah." His hand slip forward until he was able to properly hold my hand. "But I didn't expect this kind of welcome. Why are you crying and smiling?"
I broke into laughter without answering him. Using his free hand, he wiped away the tears still clinging to the corners of my eyes. I leaned into his touch and blinked, brushing my lashes against his skin. This. This was completeness. I could feel the tears welling up once more; his fingers lingered over my cheek for longer than they needed to.
But eventually his hand dropped to his side and he was considering me with those dark eyes again. My smile faded. I knew what was coming.
"How...how are you?" A roundabout start.
"Everything hurts, a lot of the time." My reply was honest, but so was the lightness in my voice. "And I'm tired, all the time."
"You......what...do you have?"
And there it was. The thing that neither of us had ever addressed.
"It's not like you would know what it is." I teased. His expression darkened reflexively and I patted the back of his hand, comforting him like a child.
"Okay, okay. I'll tell." I paused and he began caressing my knuckles with his thumb. My eyes flickered from our joined hands to his face. The corners of my mouth twitched upward. I forgot if I was trying to smile. "I'll tell."
He waited.
"It's called AMKL."
"As in...?"
"Acute megakaryoblastic leukemia." The name rolled easily off my tongue.
"Acute...leukemia?"
I chuckled.
Kibum's reaction had been much along the same lines. There were so many well-known acute disease that the meaning of acute was common knowledge. And then there was leukemia, a cancer made famous by the pens of screenwriters and novelists, by camera lenses and printing presses. But megakaryoblastic, now there was something that belonged all in a class of its own. For most people, it was the sort of vocabulary that never came in handy, if they managed to encounter it at all.
"Why do you keep on laughing at me? It doesn't seem like you're about to-" He clamped his mouth shut.
I only smiled silently at his frozen features.
Refusing to meet my eyes, he cautious rubbed my hand between his own.
"I'm sorry."
Sorry? Yeah, you better be sorry.
You showing up out of nowhere-you're messing with me.
Why is it that after hearing your apology, I am crying again?
The sight of his face blurred.
He sighed at my renewed tears. "I should be the one crying."
And then?
And then I was laughing again.
Had I gone crazy?
"You? Crying?"
Gradually, a smile crept onto his face.
"Sounds impossible, huh?"
"Exactly."
"But I've quit smoking."
We both paused.
"You're lying, aren't you?" I accused.
"And what makes you say that?" His eyebrow flew up much the same way it did months ago.
"How long has it been? How could you possibly quit this fast?"
"Why not?"
"Because you haven't been polishing up your lying skills, that's why."
"No, but see, since that night, it has been a hundred and eight days!"
We both froze, surprised at the sentence that had just slipped out of his mouth.
One hundred and eight days.
Because of me, had he been counting all along?
I was the first to recover. "......Still, you-"
He plopped himself down in Kibum's chair and conceded. "Fine, you're right. I'm in the process of quitting."
I laughed.
I laughed a lot that day.
......
With Cigarette's reentry into my life, I became more energetic and talkative. My complexion improved. Kibum was almost ecstatic and I was sure he would have twirled me around in circles if he could have done it without any risk to my well-being. From then on, he never saw Cigarette without trying to be on his best behavior. (Although he still couldn't help the occasional sharp quip.)
Cigarette always handled it with a smile.
A gracious smile.
But one that never quite reached into the depth of his eyes.
Kibum was young. He was young and he was naive, and so no one else had the heart to correct him.
But we all understood.
Such a rally wasn't a sign that I was getting better.
It only meant the end was near.
......
And then my countdown reached zero.
As usual, Cigarette came to keep me company. But in these past few days, as hard as I tried, I was only capable of lying in bed with my eyes closed, letting him hold my hand, and listening to his unceasing monologues. I didn't have the will to keep my eyes open, didn't have the strength to respond. Could barely understand what was going on around me. Today was the same. I couldn't figure out why this man whose rightful place was at the center of the universe would bother investing so much of his time in me. Why he would choose to spend day after day, watching over a dying person.
I couldn't give him anything.
I would have liked to, but I had nothing to give.
For me, even time was a scarce commodity.
And besides, I really had no right to give him anything, did I?
After all, I was not his lover.
He picked up both of my hands. Lightly, gingerly, he ran his lips over my fingertips, the back of my hand, my palms. He stood up and leaned over. Softly, sweetly, he put his lips to my forehead, the point of my nose, my eyelids.
Butterfly kisses.
There and yet not really there.
Beautiful, and yet always leaving you craving for more.
Finally, he laid his mouth flush against mine.
A shallow chaste kiss.
It lasted for an entire minute.
And for the entirety of that minute, we were motionless as one.
Then a familiar voice echoed in my ear-a smooth mesmerizing baritone-except this time around, it was a little hoarse.
"Hey Lighter, you know, my name isn't Cigarette. It's...it's Minho. Choi Minho. But hey, don't worry about it too much. You shouldn't misunderstand my intentions for telling you this now and you shouldn't feel burdened..."
He paused to take a breath.
"Lee Jinki, I don't love you."
Pfft.
You truly are eccentric, aren't you?
Here I am, about to die, and yet there you go, ruining this serious moment.
You just had to do it.
Well, what is done is done.
I can't do much to change that.
But if this is what you want it to be like, then I'll play along till the end.
With one last breath, I exhaled my final words.
"Didn't quite catch that......"
Yah. Choi Minho!
Choi Minho.
Choi Minho...
Minho-yah, are you laughing?
......
epilogue -- 0.5