Dependency
Title: Dependency
Author: sk_swing
Pairing: Jongkey
Genre: Really, really angsty
Rating: PG-15?
A/N: This is a scene from an emotionally abusive relationship. You've been forewarned.
Alcohol was a bad idea and I don't know how I could've been so stupid to think otherwise. We were fighting not 10 minutes ago and we're fighting now and we've been fighting for the past six months.
I've always been so susceptible to liquor and so bad at judging how much, how fast, and how soon. So I downed 3 shots in a row to speed up the process, so we could get past the fight and on to the drunk sex with you fucking me so hard all I can do is scream your name over and over again. (And it's been so long, it's been so fucking long since we've been able to without you feeling bored and me feeling desperate.)
But you're on the phone again, with her, the new stylist you've been wanting to see, and you watched me take those 3 shots, hoping I'd stop nagging and get to my happy place. So you could have drunk sex with her, so you could fuck her.
I can't see anymore and I certainly can't walk and I'm mildly aware of when my knees slam onto the floor but I can't feel it. I can't feel it because the alcohol is making my body numbnumbnumb and all I can think about is her.
And now I'm screeching because I've lost all sense of volume and I'm screeching for you to get off the phone because I don't want to see that dumb bitch.
You quickly hang up and glare at me, or at least I think that's what you're doing because all I can see are my hands as they grab on to your wrists.
"Get some fucking control, Kibum," you hiss.
But that look in your eye and the way you pull away from me makes me think that you're yelling and as my grip tightens words start to fall out of my mouth, soaked in alcohol and tears. Don't leave me's and don't go to her's and stop yelling's tumble out as white hot tears burn my eyes and slide into the corners of my mouth.
"I'm not fucking yelling and you don't fucking control me." You look at me with disgust at my pathetic state. "I can't deal with you, I can't deal with this again."
You wrench your hands away and for a moment I think you're going to hit me so I cower against the wall, legs splayed and eyes wide. But you just shoot me another look of contempt. Then you're leaving, you're leaving me and going to her, and suddenly I'm on the ground sobbing and sobbing and I can't stop.
You might have said something about breaking up, but I'm sobbing and sobbing and didn't we already do that?
Finally you slam your cellphone on the table and you're muttering about how you're sick and tired of this and you can't fucking do this but your hands are on my shoulders and I feel a flood of relief that causes me to cry harder.
But you're not leaving, you're not leaving and that's all that matters as you dump me onto my bed and I cling to your rigid body.
And I'm still sobbing and sobbing but you made me like this. You made me need you and now you can't leave me.
Author: sk_swing
Pairing: Jongkey
Genre: Really, really angsty
Rating: PG-15?
A/N: This is a scene from an emotionally abusive relationship. You've been forewarned.
Alcohol was a bad idea and I don't know how I could've been so stupid to think otherwise. We were fighting not 10 minutes ago and we're fighting now and we've been fighting for the past six months.
I've always been so susceptible to liquor and so bad at judging how much, how fast, and how soon. So I downed 3 shots in a row to speed up the process, so we could get past the fight and on to the drunk sex with you fucking me so hard all I can do is scream your name over and over again. (And it's been so long, it's been so fucking long since we've been able to without you feeling bored and me feeling desperate.)
But you're on the phone again, with her, the new stylist you've been wanting to see, and you watched me take those 3 shots, hoping I'd stop nagging and get to my happy place. So you could have drunk sex with her, so you could fuck her.
I can't see anymore and I certainly can't walk and I'm mildly aware of when my knees slam onto the floor but I can't feel it. I can't feel it because the alcohol is making my body numbnumbnumb and all I can think about is her.
And now I'm screeching because I've lost all sense of volume and I'm screeching for you to get off the phone because I don't want to see that dumb bitch.
You quickly hang up and glare at me, or at least I think that's what you're doing because all I can see are my hands as they grab on to your wrists.
"Get some fucking control, Kibum," you hiss.
But that look in your eye and the way you pull away from me makes me think that you're yelling and as my grip tightens words start to fall out of my mouth, soaked in alcohol and tears. Don't leave me's and don't go to her's and stop yelling's tumble out as white hot tears burn my eyes and slide into the corners of my mouth.
"I'm not fucking yelling and you don't fucking control me." You look at me with disgust at my pathetic state. "I can't deal with you, I can't deal with this again."
You wrench your hands away and for a moment I think you're going to hit me so I cower against the wall, legs splayed and eyes wide. But you just shoot me another look of contempt. Then you're leaving, you're leaving me and going to her, and suddenly I'm on the ground sobbing and sobbing and I can't stop.
You might have said something about breaking up, but I'm sobbing and sobbing and didn't we already do that?
Finally you slam your cellphone on the table and you're muttering about how you're sick and tired of this and you can't fucking do this but your hands are on my shoulders and I feel a flood of relief that causes me to cry harder.
But you're not leaving, you're not leaving and that's all that matters as you dump me onto my bed and I cling to your rigid body.
And I'm still sobbing and sobbing but you made me like this. You made me need you and now you can't leave me.