the ways he fell
and wasn't loved back.
chen/kai ; 1150 words ; pg
three angsty drabbles bc i don't love myself.
it’s late enough that the sun might come up soon even though the sky’s still dark. another bad movie starts and jongdae doesn’t bother to press pause. his eyelids struggle to stay open, and it hurts when he glances at the bright screen. but he can’t close his eyes. he has to stay awake. he has to be awake to remember this feeling because it won’t likely happen again. jongin will fall asleep again, but it won’t be on jongdae’s shoulder breathing slowly and deeply. his lips won’t be so close to jongdae’s neck. jongin’s hand won’t fall to rest on jongdae’s thigh palm up, as if asking jongdae to take it.
so jongdae decides that he’ll take this chance. it will be his own secret. slowly, so slowly, he leans over, careful not to move jongin, so that his lips press gently against the younger boy’s forehead. he’s reluctant to pull away, but as soon as he leans back the shock hits him.
he didn’t think it’d feel like this. he’d thought it would feel happy, exciting, exhilarating. there’s a little bit of that, but the strongest emotion is guilt. he hadn’t asked permission. jongin didn’t even know. it’s a secret all right, but it feels like a dirty one. he had just changed their relationship, and he knew that jongin wouldn’t have wanted it like this. they were like brothers, jongdae always looking out for jongin, and jongdae had just ruined that. someone had told jongdae that it was okay to be selfish sometimes, but this wasn’t one of those times. his stomach drops, adding to the pain, and beads of cold sweat break out on his forehead. if it weren’t for Jongin resting on his shoulder, he’d - actually, he doesn’t know what he would do, but it wouldn’t be this. he wouldn’t be leaning back on an old couch staring at the ceiling. he wouldn’t be struggling to swallow the pain in his throat, wallowing in self-pity.
would he be better than this? would he be better without jongin?
*
today’s the day. jongdae feels stupidly nervous, thinking that this is just high school and that it’s okay if nothing works out. still, his leg jitters and he feels clumsy, tongue heavy in his mouth.
briefly, he allows himself to imagine what it’d be like if jongin said yes. would people talk about two boys from different grades together? jongdae wouldn’t care, but he doesn’t know if jongin would. he wonders if jongin would allow their fingers to intertwine in public, if jongin would date in public or not. enough. he’s getting ahead of himself, but he’s nearly there. jongin lingers by the side entrance nearly every day after school, and jongdae hopes that he’s there today too.
jongdae turns around the corner and jongin is there, but everything’s wrong. jongin’s arms are around someone else’s waist and his lips are on someone else’s lips, and jongdae stands there for a few seconds in shock. he’s so stupid. how could he not realize that taemin was never just jongin’s best friend but something more, how could he not realize until now that they had always been too close, how could he have been so blinded by his own hopeful feelings. he turns back around and walks in any direction, anywhere away from jongin.
jongdae won’t cry. he doesn’t cry. it’s almost worse this way, feeling his face burning up and his palms beginning to sweat. he wishes the tears could fall down his face so the feelings would leave him. he’s never felt like this and he hates the pounding of his heart and the urge to scream bubbling in his chest. he starts to run down the street faster, hoping that the pain in his legs will somehow ease the pain in his heart. the pounding of his footsteps rings in his ears, but it feels like he’s not moving. no matter how far he goes, it’ll take him too long to get away from this hurt. he’d been too attached from the start. each time he tells himself it was just an infatuation, it was just hormones on high, it hurts more and he hates himself for being so stupid.
that’s all he is, a stupid little boy who put his heart before his head.
*
it’s cold. he grips the sleeve of his sweater. he bought one that was a size too big on purpose because he liked the way it looked, but he didn’t want to admit to himself that one day he wanted to wear a too-big sweater that wasn’t his. he wanted to take a piece of someone else and claim it for himself; he thought that this was probably the most selfish desire he had.
jongdae got his wish later on. he coaxed a taller, younger boy into his life and jongin hadn’t struggled. their first days were the happiest in jongdae’s life. they were the days when jongin offered his hand before jongdae asked for it, when jongin leaned into jongdae’s kisses, when jongin’s eyes sparkled like stars in the sky. jongin left bits of himself all over jongdae’s life, including a sweater that reached jongdae’s mid-thighs. they fell asleep with smiles on their faces.
now jongdae can’t even fall asleep. he lies awake wondering what he’s done wrong. jongin won’t smile or laugh at any of jongdae’s antics no matter how hard he tries. jongin doesn’t answer texts or phone calls often and he won’t meet up with jongdae often. the last time jongdae kissed him he didn’t kiss back, and jongdae’s seen the weight jongin’s lost. jongdae’s tried so hard and jongin just gets worse. the sparkle in his eyes has been gone for too long and jongdae doesn’t know if he can bring it back.
jongin doesn’t answer any messages for a week and jongdae goes over to his place, banging on the door immediately. it swings open, startling him, and a completely bare apartment greets him. jongdae’s feet stay stuck to the ground and he sways on the spot. jongin left. jongin left him without a word. jongdae gave him so much and he just took it all with him, leaving jongdae with nothing. he doesn’t even know if jongin is okay - no, he knows that jongin is not okay, but now it’s unlikely that he’ll ever know if jongin gets better. jongdae didn’t know he had it left in him, but his breathing falters and he begins to panic. he cares too much. he’s always been the one to care too much. he starts to walk back down the stairs, and as his feet hit each step a cold numbness washes over him, engulfing him in a state of anxiety. nothing is under his control. he’s just one person after all.
just one.
chen/kai ; 1150 words ; pg
three angsty drabbles bc i don't love myself.
it’s late enough that the sun might come up soon even though the sky’s still dark. another bad movie starts and jongdae doesn’t bother to press pause. his eyelids struggle to stay open, and it hurts when he glances at the bright screen. but he can’t close his eyes. he has to stay awake. he has to be awake to remember this feeling because it won’t likely happen again. jongin will fall asleep again, but it won’t be on jongdae’s shoulder breathing slowly and deeply. his lips won’t be so close to jongdae’s neck. jongin’s hand won’t fall to rest on jongdae’s thigh palm up, as if asking jongdae to take it.
so jongdae decides that he’ll take this chance. it will be his own secret. slowly, so slowly, he leans over, careful not to move jongin, so that his lips press gently against the younger boy’s forehead. he’s reluctant to pull away, but as soon as he leans back the shock hits him.
he didn’t think it’d feel like this. he’d thought it would feel happy, exciting, exhilarating. there’s a little bit of that, but the strongest emotion is guilt. he hadn’t asked permission. jongin didn’t even know. it’s a secret all right, but it feels like a dirty one. he had just changed their relationship, and he knew that jongin wouldn’t have wanted it like this. they were like brothers, jongdae always looking out for jongin, and jongdae had just ruined that. someone had told jongdae that it was okay to be selfish sometimes, but this wasn’t one of those times. his stomach drops, adding to the pain, and beads of cold sweat break out on his forehead. if it weren’t for Jongin resting on his shoulder, he’d - actually, he doesn’t know what he would do, but it wouldn’t be this. he wouldn’t be leaning back on an old couch staring at the ceiling. he wouldn’t be struggling to swallow the pain in his throat, wallowing in self-pity.
would he be better than this? would he be better without jongin?
*
today’s the day. jongdae feels stupidly nervous, thinking that this is just high school and that it’s okay if nothing works out. still, his leg jitters and he feels clumsy, tongue heavy in his mouth.
briefly, he allows himself to imagine what it’d be like if jongin said yes. would people talk about two boys from different grades together? jongdae wouldn’t care, but he doesn’t know if jongin would. he wonders if jongin would allow their fingers to intertwine in public, if jongin would date in public or not. enough. he’s getting ahead of himself, but he’s nearly there. jongin lingers by the side entrance nearly every day after school, and jongdae hopes that he’s there today too.
jongdae turns around the corner and jongin is there, but everything’s wrong. jongin’s arms are around someone else’s waist and his lips are on someone else’s lips, and jongdae stands there for a few seconds in shock. he’s so stupid. how could he not realize that taemin was never just jongin’s best friend but something more, how could he not realize until now that they had always been too close, how could he have been so blinded by his own hopeful feelings. he turns back around and walks in any direction, anywhere away from jongin.
jongdae won’t cry. he doesn’t cry. it’s almost worse this way, feeling his face burning up and his palms beginning to sweat. he wishes the tears could fall down his face so the feelings would leave him. he’s never felt like this and he hates the pounding of his heart and the urge to scream bubbling in his chest. he starts to run down the street faster, hoping that the pain in his legs will somehow ease the pain in his heart. the pounding of his footsteps rings in his ears, but it feels like he’s not moving. no matter how far he goes, it’ll take him too long to get away from this hurt. he’d been too attached from the start. each time he tells himself it was just an infatuation, it was just hormones on high, it hurts more and he hates himself for being so stupid.
that’s all he is, a stupid little boy who put his heart before his head.
*
it’s cold. he grips the sleeve of his sweater. he bought one that was a size too big on purpose because he liked the way it looked, but he didn’t want to admit to himself that one day he wanted to wear a too-big sweater that wasn’t his. he wanted to take a piece of someone else and claim it for himself; he thought that this was probably the most selfish desire he had.
jongdae got his wish later on. he coaxed a taller, younger boy into his life and jongin hadn’t struggled. their first days were the happiest in jongdae’s life. they were the days when jongin offered his hand before jongdae asked for it, when jongin leaned into jongdae’s kisses, when jongin’s eyes sparkled like stars in the sky. jongin left bits of himself all over jongdae’s life, including a sweater that reached jongdae’s mid-thighs. they fell asleep with smiles on their faces.
now jongdae can’t even fall asleep. he lies awake wondering what he’s done wrong. jongin won’t smile or laugh at any of jongdae’s antics no matter how hard he tries. jongin doesn’t answer texts or phone calls often and he won’t meet up with jongdae often. the last time jongdae kissed him he didn’t kiss back, and jongdae’s seen the weight jongin’s lost. jongdae’s tried so hard and jongin just gets worse. the sparkle in his eyes has been gone for too long and jongdae doesn’t know if he can bring it back.
jongin doesn’t answer any messages for a week and jongdae goes over to his place, banging on the door immediately. it swings open, startling him, and a completely bare apartment greets him. jongdae’s feet stay stuck to the ground and he sways on the spot. jongin left. jongin left him without a word. jongdae gave him so much and he just took it all with him, leaving jongdae with nothing. he doesn’t even know if jongin is okay - no, he knows that jongin is not okay, but now it’s unlikely that he’ll ever know if jongin gets better. jongdae didn’t know he had it left in him, but his breathing falters and he begins to panic. he cares too much. he’s always been the one to care too much. he starts to walk back down the stairs, and as his feet hit each step a cold numbness washes over him, engulfing him in a state of anxiety. nothing is under his control. he’s just one person after all.
just one.