in another world i would make you stay
in another world i would make you stay
kai-centered, kai/sehun
455 words; pg-13
warning: themes of death
i know i said i wouldn't write a sequel to this fic, but then it popped in my head as i was coming back from class and i was like NO NO NO BRAIN DON'T DO THIS TO ME. but it did. damn you, brain.
anyway, the title is from here, and this is a sort of somewhat sequel to we all fall down. i say sort of somewhat because there's... no plot. here's to procrastinating my exam. /o/
There are sixteen candles that lie on the windowsill. Jongin lights fifteen candles every year on June 23.
Sehun watches him as he lights a match, arms wrapped around Jongin’s waist, head tucked onto his shoulder. He whispers each name with Jongin and blows out the match when the flame gets too close to Jongin’s fingers.
Fifteen candles. One for each dead friend - foe - victim - in the Penalty Game. And then the sixteenth candle, the one he leaves unlit, for Seohyun. Joohyun.
He leaves this one unlit because Joohyun doesn’t need a candle to shine. Her existence already burns bright in Jongin’s core. The air in her lungs is enough for the both of them to feel alive. Jongin awaits the day he can return to space and hug her again, just to say hello.
But then there’s space, and all the reasons of why he would never. Space is the battleground he will never return to. The blood underneath his feet doesn't wash off quite easily, and he’s given up trying to pretend he’s innocent.
Jongin is no stranger to death. He knows death the same way he knows himself - broken beyond repair, crawling through shards in a useless attempt to piece together a mirror again. He might as well be death, because the air between his fingers has never seemed so temporary, like the dagger in Yuri’s back, or the metal of his sword laying next to Yixing’s head.
Death is really more like an extension of himself.
He will never tell Zitao, but he dreams about Wu Fan in the dark, when there’s no one but him and Wu Fan can pat him on the head. Jongin closes his eyes and pretends he’s eighteen once more.
He will never tell Jessica, but he sees Soojung when he’s awake, sitting next to him on the kitchen counter as they swing their legs back and forth together. They share an apple, and Soojung flings pieces of food at him and laughs when Jongin whines and digs his head into the junction in between her neck and shoulder.
He will never, ever tell Lu Han’s parents. He will never tell them about Lu Han, and how sometimes he can’t tell the difference between Kim Jongin and Lu Han, because they’re so close together they might as well be one entity. When Jongin inhales, Lu Han exhales, and when Jongin closes his eyes, Lu Han is the one who opens them. Lu Han is the small space in the back of his mind that tells him to keep living, for him. For them.
To Jongin none of them will ever be really gone. They will never be here, or there, but everywhere in between.
kai-centered, kai/sehun
455 words; pg-13
warning: themes of death
i know i said i wouldn't write a sequel to this fic, but then it popped in my head as i was coming back from class and i was like NO NO NO BRAIN DON'T DO THIS TO ME. but it did. damn you, brain.
anyway, the title is from here, and this is a sort of somewhat sequel to we all fall down. i say sort of somewhat because there's... no plot. here's to procrastinating my exam. /o/
There are sixteen candles that lie on the windowsill. Jongin lights fifteen candles every year on June 23.
Sehun watches him as he lights a match, arms wrapped around Jongin’s waist, head tucked onto his shoulder. He whispers each name with Jongin and blows out the match when the flame gets too close to Jongin’s fingers.
Fifteen candles. One for each dead friend - foe - victim - in the Penalty Game. And then the sixteenth candle, the one he leaves unlit, for Seohyun. Joohyun.
He leaves this one unlit because Joohyun doesn’t need a candle to shine. Her existence already burns bright in Jongin’s core. The air in her lungs is enough for the both of them to feel alive. Jongin awaits the day he can return to space and hug her again, just to say hello.
But then there’s space, and all the reasons of why he would never. Space is the battleground he will never return to. The blood underneath his feet doesn't wash off quite easily, and he’s given up trying to pretend he’s innocent.
Jongin is no stranger to death. He knows death the same way he knows himself - broken beyond repair, crawling through shards in a useless attempt to piece together a mirror again. He might as well be death, because the air between his fingers has never seemed so temporary, like the dagger in Yuri’s back, or the metal of his sword laying next to Yixing’s head.
Death is really more like an extension of himself.
He will never tell Zitao, but he dreams about Wu Fan in the dark, when there’s no one but him and Wu Fan can pat him on the head. Jongin closes his eyes and pretends he’s eighteen once more.
He will never tell Jessica, but he sees Soojung when he’s awake, sitting next to him on the kitchen counter as they swing their legs back and forth together. They share an apple, and Soojung flings pieces of food at him and laughs when Jongin whines and digs his head into the junction in between her neck and shoulder.
He will never, ever tell Lu Han’s parents. He will never tell them about Lu Han, and how sometimes he can’t tell the difference between Kim Jongin and Lu Han, because they’re so close together they might as well be one entity. When Jongin inhales, Lu Han exhales, and when Jongin closes his eyes, Lu Han is the one who opens them. Lu Han is the small space in the back of his mind that tells him to keep living, for him. For them.
To Jongin none of them will ever be really gone. They will never be here, or there, but everywhere in between.