time after time ; onkey
onkey ; pg-13
cutting.
wc ; 2042 words
He doesn’t only inflict pain onto himself when he cuts.
--
His blood had come out slowly, like how whores would take time to tease their customer.
Jinki felt a strange sort of satisfaction pound through him along with the cacophony of his uneasy heartbeat. He also felt Kibum's presence as he stood on the opposite side of the door, he heard his breathing and heard him play with his fingers out of anxiety.
Though Kibum knocked and asked if he could come in, Jinki told him no. It's okay and I'm okay and you don't have to worry about me.
Jinki will be okay.
///
Fingers brushed across the small scab but Jinki ignored it.
He heard a question that was directed at him but he sipped his coffee and listened to the rain instead.
Someone got in the way of his vision of the window but he continued to stare as if there wasn't any obstruction.
“Hyung.”
Jinki sighed. The rain got lighter, mimicking his ability to push away everything that surrounded him.
“Jinki.”
“Yes, Kibum?”
And he focused his gaze up at the blonde person in front of him. Kibum smiled, happy that he finally got his attention.
“Come watch TV with me, please?”
Reluctantly, Jinki got up from his spot and followed Kibum out to the living room. He didn't want to leave that place of solace where it overlooked the wet night street, he didn't want to come back to reality. But how could he say no.
///
Even though Kibum saw, he did not say anything.
Even though he felt those bumpy scars, he did not say anything.
Even though he knew Jinki was lying right through his teeth, he did not say anything.
///
Jinki was in a mess. He hadn't intended for the cut to be that deep, he didn't mean for his arm to lose control and suddenly slip. He drawled a loud 'fuck' (on accident) before he discarded the blade and frantically pulled at the tissue papers.
There was a knock on the door because he had spoken a little too loud.
“What happened?”
“Just slipped. Don't worry.” Jinki's voice was strangely calm, as if there was no blood gushing out of his open wound, as if there was no stains on the damn white rug. As if there was no sting that settled in his thigh from the cut.
He collected himself, he bit onto his lip to keep from expressing the pain.
Jinki cleaned up everything and checked twice before wrapping his leg with cling wrap-a new solution he found on the net to prevent the blood from staining his clothes.
He dressed and stepped outside.
Jinki smiled at Kibum.
“I slipped.”
///
A shuddering pain had constantly shot through him as they went through rehearsals for their dance. It stabbed him right in his freshest of wounds, located near his pelvis. Jinki didn't know why he had chose the spot-but he did know that if he continued to mark his skin in places that could be obvious to the public, he would be in deep shit.
Minho asked him if he needed water but gave it to him without waiting for a reply.
Jonghyun slumped onto the ground next to him and mumbled out something about how old they were getting.
Taemin was discussing something with the instructor, he always voiced his opinions about the dance moves.
And then there was Kibum, whom liked to lean against the wall that faced the dance studio, his eyes set on Jinki.
Jinki stared back blankly, not wanting to let out any emotion that he knew that Kibum knew. Or maybe that was him being paranoid. Kibum couldn't possibly know, silly Jinki.
Those calculative eyes were too much to handle though and he found himself looking down at the floor again.
Kibum doesn't know.
///
Kibum knows.
Jinki is sure that Kibum knows.
Kibum didn't approach him though, he didn't ask him questions or demand why there were so many vague scratches on his arms that only he could see. He didn't ask why Jinki kept to his room, or why their supply of toilet paper was depleting at such a fast rate.
He only smiled, Kibum loved to smile, and held Jinki tighter whenever their bodies came into contact.
“Those wounds,” Kibum whispered one day when they were alone, “will fade. And I will make you let them go.”
Kibum knows, but he chose not to corner Jinki and scream and shout and command him to stop.
He did it another way.
///
Jinki was caught before he even thought about standing up to leave the room.
Kibum didn't let him go even after he had muttered a string of protests; he had dragged him back to his messy bedroom and sat him down on his bed. He was told not to move and Jinki obliged, though his mind was elsewhere, wondering which blade he would use today once Kibum let him go. The latter didn't.
Instead, he ruffled through the disorganised junk on his desk and collected marker pens of different colours. Kibum got onto the bed next to Jinki and leaned in a little too close for comfort, pulling Jinki's hand towards him so he could examine it.
“This would look prettier,” Kibum mused before he opened the cap of an orange marker and began to draw on Jinki's forearm. Jinki didn't say anything, but he was curious, so he stared at Kibum's working hands until a shape formed.
He pulled his arm away gently to look at the drawing.
“It's a chicken.”
“You like chickens, don't you?”
Jinki dropped his hand and chose not to reply.
“If you hurt yourself again, you'll kill the chicken.”
At that, Jinki smiled. It was a nasty smile.
“That'll be good. Then I could have fried chicken.”
//
Too deep, it was again too deep.
But Jinki was used to the deep now.
Used to the stinging and the mess and the cleaning.
///
Jinki trembled subtly, eyes unable to focus on anything but his grip on the cool metal.
He always trembled, and he always had hesitation, but at the end it would still end the same. Jinki continued to stare and slowly he pressed the sharp tip hard enough for it to cut through his skin.
Before he could even open up a cut, a hand is placed over his, fingers are curled around the blade and he looked up in confusion because he thought he had locked the door. There's a smile that's offered to him; a little sad, but sweet and he found himself paralysed for a moment.
The blade was pulled away from his skin and he allowed it to be taken-which was a strange thing for him to do. A kiss was planted on the spot and the almost non-existent pain that the sharp tip caused tingled. Jinki's eyes never left those lips as they trailed up his forearm; he was being weighed down by the force it held, he couldn't get his body to move.
Those lips travelled without complaint over his scars, the fading and the new.
Jinki felt like he was drowning in kisses and in whispers and he didn't like it.
But he did nothing to push Kibum away because suddenly he had forgotten what pain was.
///
It was the first time he had cried while cutting.
Jinki was sure it wasn't from the burning of his skin being opened because that was not new to him.
There was something clenched around his heart, a mighty grip that squeezed at it. It felt like a formless hand was seeping its fingers through the muscle, pulling at the vessels that were connect to it, stopping the blood supply, slowing the heart rate.
His heart was aching and it hurt him more than all the wounds that stained his body.
Jinki sobbed out loud, his hands trembling while Kibum lay in his bed, tears slipping out the corner of his eyes as he listened.
///
“K,” Kibum worded as he scribbled on Jinki's arm. “E... Y.”
Jinki raised his eyebrows.
“Wait, no. I should write...”
Kibum didn't attempt to erase what he wrote before and reached out to grab onto Jinki's other arm. On that, in huge capital letters, he wrote his birth name.
“I just had a shower, Kibum.”
“Exactly my point.”
This happened a lot recently. Kibum would drag their leader to his room, he would chat for minutes that turned to hours and he still did it whether or not Jinki replied. The older man didn't know how to react to these actions, he usually just sat there and listened and maybe laughed sometimes or reply and when he got tired of that, he would nod and hum and pretend he knew what was going on.
There was no time to indulge himself, no time to even think about it.
They were either doing their days job, running here and doing performances there, going for interviews and events and back to their company to dance and sing again. And even at home, where things were supposed to be relaxed, Kibum would distract him from doing what he wanted.
Jinki didn't know if he was happy or not. But the scars were fading and he felt empty without them.
Kibum stared at him, silent all of a sudden.
“I'm tired,” Jinki said to break the silence.
“Hyung. Will you go to sleep straight away tonight?”
“Of course.”
Before he left, Kibum grabbed onto his arm and staring deep into his eyes, searching and analysing, said, “If you hurt yourself again, you'll also be hurting me too.”
///
The night was cloudy and dark as was their dorm as Jinki slowly walked to the bathroom.
The door locked with a click and he took to getting comfortable inside the bathtub.
He sat for a while.
Kibum's names were fading, though it was pretty visible considering that two days had passed. Jinki didn't know if he purposely did not scrub hard at it to get it away, or if he had just forgotten.
The blade reflected the light as he toyed with it.
If you hurt yourself again...
Jinki frowned. Jinki bit his lip.
Jinki pressed the blade to his skin and quickly slashed at it so no second thoughts would pass his mind.
...you'll also be hurting me too.
///
I'm sorry, Kibum, I'm sorry I hurt you.
///
When Kibum pulled back his sleeve, Jinki jumped back in surprise, not wanting the other to see how much hurt he inflicted onto himself since the last time he checked. Kibum's eyes moistened as he unsteadily looked up at him, troubled and disappointed.
He tried to pull away, to make Kibum forget what he saw because he didn't want Kibum to hurt. Jinki thought that the other would leave him then, he thought that he would turn around and walk out the door, but he didn't.
Kibum, even though upset, slid his hand around Jinki's neck and pulled him into a hug.
He didn't know what else to do at this point.
///
It was another strange moment for Jinki-forgetting about the blade that was once in his hand and all the emotions that would come with it.
He also forgot the probing thoughts in his head and the itchy sensation that spread in his fingers, he forgot the skin that tingled with demand for him to scar it and the tears that forced their way out the corners of his eyes.
In his ears Kibum whispered sweet nothings and he nuzzled at the soft mop on Jinki's head. He played with the hem of his thin sleeping shirt and then with his fingers. Kibum's hand had fit perfectly in his, and that too was strange.
Jinki forgot about everything for his mind was filled with Kibum and only Kibum.
With his tight embrace and his touches and his voice and soon his lips as he kissed at the marks on his arms.
“I'll stop you,” Kibum said with aching emotion, “I'll stop you over and over again and hope one day you can stop yourself.”