a haunting melody
Title: A haunting melody [Part 1]
Pairings: KyuMin, Past!KyuHan
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mentions of character death
Summary: A past, a buried passion, two stories, two men, an untold love story.
A/N: Stef's plot bunny strayed loose and begged me to take it in. LOl. Her plot, my words, our story. (:
The heat was warm on his skin, penetrating through his eyelids as the red glow of morning sun greeted him from his window even before he opened his eyes. He stretched, arms reaching blindly above his head, and yawned. The young man sat up rubbing his eyes, and turned to the photo frame standing elegantly on the table next to his bed, like a morning routine.
“Happy birthday.” He whispered lightly as he reached out to caress the white frame. Two friends with their arms around each other were smiling happily, the wind in their hair- staring at him. And he did the same with a little smile back.
It was an infinity later that he decided he'd be late if he doesn't get his ass out of bed, and get ready for school soon. No, he wouldn't need his professor's nagging on a day like this. He pulled on his jeans as he fumbled for the nicest shirt he has in his closet. He brushed his teeth, did a quick wash for his face, a last check in the mirror, running a hand through his messy hazel brown curls in an attempt to make himself look more presentable-though one would be curious how he could do it without a comb- and grabbed his bag from his desk. Slinging it over his shoulder, he opened the door of his room, only to slam it shut, a little too loud in his hurry.
“Oh sweetheart, I was about to check on you. Here,” The young man grabbed whatever was held out to him. “Breakfast-“
“Bye mom.” He reached the main door, one hand on the knob just as his mother called out to him.
The slender woman smiled when her son finally stopped to look at her for the first time ever since he stepped out of his room. She knew better than to give him a lecture on manners, especially today. “You forgot this.” She held out a neatly tucked folder.
The young man looked down at the transparent file in her hand. It was all too familiar, what it contained. Tapping lightly on his temple with his forefinger, “It's all up here.” He smiled when there was a too long moment of pause between the mother and son. Stepping forward and embracing his mother gently in his arms, he closed his eyes and spoke on an exhale, words that were meant for her ears only. “Thank you.”
Swallowing tightly as she stepped back to give him a glance over, “You look good today.” She cleared her throat at the bile forming and forced a smile. “Now run along, or you'll be late for school.”
The young man grinned at her, pecked her softly on the cheek and turned towards the main door again. Stopping short just before he closed it, “Don't wait up.” He called out, earning an understanding nod from his mother before the sounding click of the lock behind him.
***
“Young master,” A man, hair combed back with streaks of white and black, mostly the former, dressed neatly in a freshly pressed tuxedo, stood at the foot of a large bed.
“Young master?” He tried again when there was no response. The young man doesn't usually require any help in waking up early for school. So when the elder man had glanced at the clock on the wall after assigning the roles to the new employees in the house, and realised he hadn't seen any trace of the young man at all, he decided to check in on him.
“Mmph-“ A hand escaped the warmth of the covers to weakly wave off the source of hoarse voice.
“You're going to be late if-“
There wasn't even a chance for him to finish when the young master bolted out of bed. The butler barely held back a gasp and jumped back in surprise.
“Oh shoot shoot shoot. Damn it. First day of school and I'm gonna be late. Great, just great.”
The middle aged man stood rooted and stared at the scene before him in amusement. His young master was now struggling with a foot (seemingly stuck) in his jeans- the thumping on the carpeted floor as the young man hopped about on his other foot wasn’t oblivious despite his poor hearing, which he always blamed it on his age.
“Oh fuck-“
“Language, young master, mind your language.” The respected butler chided gently, earning a groan and a few grumbled protests, though the young man later did stop cursing at whatever that served as an obstacle in his hurried state.
The elder man approached his young master when he was struggling with his hair, pulling at the knots painfully, face grimacing. Taking over the comb and brushing through the black silk, “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
It was a breathless appreciation towards the simple act and the elder man just smiled, as always, and followed close behind as his young master swung his bedroom door open with a surprising amount of strength. He congratulated himself for catching it just in time before it slammed into the wall behind it. He closed the expensive piece of wood swiftly and soundlessly after them, walking with hastened steps, as fast as his aging body would permit.
“Young master, your breakfast-“ He heaved while stalking down the stairs after the man, who was already halfway through the huge living hall, towards the car.
“No time.” The young man took over his bag from a hand out of nowhere, “Thank you.” He muttered. Eyes all the while trained forward. Damn it, he’s going to be late on his first day in his new school.
***
Cho Kyuhyun sits at his usual desk with both feet spread out in front of him. He leaned back against his chair with both arms crossed over his chest, eyes staring blankly at the scene at the front of the lecture hall.
New student.
Late.
“Hello everyone, my name is Sungmin and I look forward to working and being friends with everybody.”
Lame.
The eyes twinkle even under the bright fluorescent lights in the hall, the smile so genuine; the man named Sungmin introduced himself to his new classmates.
Sungmin scanned through the hall. He smiled back when a group of girls at the middle of the huge room giggled and waved at him.
"Thank you Sungmin ssi, now would you go find yourself a seat, please?" A man in his mid forties, probably, patted him on the back and gestured towards the class.
Sungmin bowed politely to his professor before walking towards the only seat he found empty. It was a corner seat at the last second row. He smiled at his new neighbours only to have one unreturned. The man seated behind him only stared straight ahead, no intention of acknowledging him at all. Never could get used to hostility, Sungmin frowned, and turned back to his seat.
Getting himself comfortable, he lets his legs stretch out in front and lays his bag on the table- out of where he was going to write. A black string of ink at the top corner of his desk, however, caught the peripheral of his eye. They were not words, he mused to himself, but an abstract of a music piece. Curious, he leaned forward and studied them carefully, running his finger across the notes. Having played the piano since young, the black inked markings on the table were definitely not anything new to him-the composition, however, was unlike any piece he’d played before. It wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t one of the famous pieces that he liked to play or was asked to play either. A self-composition by someone, perhaps-
He was jerked out of his reverie when a hard kick was delivered to the back of his chair.
“What the-“ Sungmin whirled about almost too abruptly, but the culprit just stared back unfeelingly with a tiny tinge of reproach deep in those orbs, just a little. It was surprising though, because it was more than enough to make Sungmin feel a little guilty. But hey, what have he done?
“Don’t touch that.”
Sungmin gave a look to the man who gave the monotonous command. The voice was much deeper as compared to his-it was smooth, almost like velvet and silk. It sent off comforting waves of warmth, yet the iciness in those dark orbs spoke a different language, and not to mention the bite behind the seemingly harmless tone.
“Wh-what?”
The man tilted his chin in determined challenge, eyes set on Sungmin’s finger, which was still resting on the black ink. “Don’t. Touch. That.”
Sungmin frowned and looked down at his own finger. Oh. He looked back to his new classmate and withdrew his finger immediately, as though he’d been burnt by the ink. The anger in the other’s eyes was unmistakable and Sungmin knew better than to retort- no matter how unreasonable he felt this was. Surely he can touch anything he wants, especially his own table right? Humph.
***
Now, this is why Kyuhyun doesn’t like new students. Everyone in class knows they have to avoid the table the new student is sitting in, much less touch the black ink on it. He had been prepared for a showdown or a quarrel, or whatever you call it the minute blazing eyes met his. He’d kicked too hard- harder than he intended again. The last time anyone touched the ink on the desk had turned the whole lecture hall into a chaotic mess, and him ending up in the disciplinary office with a busted lip-the other student, a black eye.
So he was surprised, he had to admit, that this new one, Sungmin, right, that’s his name, lifted his finger immediately and obeyed him without even a single protest. Kyuhyun nearly gawked at the compliance, and even with the commencement of the first lesson, his eyes were still fixed on the back of the head of the other guy.
He knew he was being outright unreasonable… but no one, and everyone knows that, can touch the abstract of notes. No one, except him.
***
“Coming, I’m coming.” Sungmin hung up his phone impatiently. He clicked his tongue and combed through his hair in annoyance. Seriously, did his driver think there wouldn’t be any distance from class to the school’s main gate? He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and walked hurriedly down the empty hallway. His classy shoes clicked away, his posture straight in trained position-Lee Sungmin was never a man he wanted to be.
He missed his childhood friends. They were the only friends he had, actually. Ever since he left the place where he was born at 13, he had followed his parents everywhere they went with their business. He never stayed long in any school he attended, therefore, that means no friends- which also, was a relief to his mother, who seemed to think there was never anybody trustworthy enough to befriend him. Sungmin sighed. All he could think of is the days he had left in this current school before they shift to another city again.
He halted in his steps when a lively melody suddenly echoed in his surroundings. Music was his escape, always have been. It was his only pillar when things were too hard to hold on to. It was his confidant when no one was there. It embraced him when he cried in loneliness. It was his only friend.
Sungmin walked towards the source of the enchanting harmony, all thoughts of driver and parents driven from his mind. He approached a door, the only one left slightly ajar as if it had been left deliberately open for someone. It was louder now when he pushed the door further apart. The play over the piano keys was fast and quick with practiced precision, almost professional. The one on the piano was happy-Sungmin could see that even with the back facing him. There was a slight bounce in the other’s fingers as they danced over the keys, his body swinging with the tune, and Sungmin thought he caught an upward quirk at the corner of the man’s lips.
He jumped when vibration buzzed in his back pocket. He closed the door back to its original position and started down the hallway again. Cursing inwardly, he smacked the phone to the side of his face, not even bothering to look at the caller ID flashing on the screen. “Coming, I’m coming.”
***
Kyuhyun smiled as he played the familiar piece of music. His fingers ran over the white piano keys as they played the happy tune. It was his favourite tune because it was the first piece he learned. He could still remember how happy his parents were, clapping him on the back and full of praises for him. They were happy for him, and so was he. Memories are something Kyuhyun holds really dear to him. They bring him back to happy times which he can no longer visit. No matter how happy he can be in the future, he knows it will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same anymore.
And with that, he ends on the short, high pitch note of the composition. A sad smile framed his face as he thought about the happy times he used to have-used to take advantage of while foolishly thinking he had forever.
Looking down at his fingers where they splayed out gently on the piano keys, his tan skin a great contrast to the pure white. He allowed himself to sit in silence for a moment. Collecting his emotions, tucking them back safely into the confines of his heart. He drew in a breath and let them out on a shaky one. Lifting his fingers, he strikes the first note of the next tune, low and heavy. He doesn’t know how, but it always seems to happen. The first drop of tear slid down his left cheek.
It was another of those very familiar harmonies, except that this was the only one never before heard by any others. It was also the only one he had strict expectations of, one he wouldn’t allow any mistakes in playing at all even with his lack of practice. It was his first self-composed tune and also his last. All it took was a stupid vow he knew would put his talent to shame- to stop playing, to stop composing, to do what he did best… all because it hurts too much. Only on a day like this, only today, does he allow himself to reopen his wound and wallow in it. And this day alone is enough to break him and bring him back to where he so desperately tried to hide from. It was almost too much for him to bear, but he just had to do it.
“Promise me?”
Kyuhyun held the cool, weak hand in his much warmer ones. He swallowed thickly, and tried to fight the hiccup that came forth with his emotions. He was trembling, his body was shaking and he knew better than to blame it on the chill around the quiet room.
“I promise you.” He wasn’t surprised when the answer came out on a squeak. He was trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard to smile, to be strong at this time- especially in front of this dying man. The man he loves so much, it hurts to see he was doing the same.
A small smile framed the other’s pale face the same time he lifted a shaky hand to brush away the rebellious tears on Kyuhyun’s face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t,” Kyuhyun hissed fiercely in protective anger. Grabbing both of the man’s feeble hands, he leaned closer so the other could hear what he wanted him to know all this time. “I love you, hyung. I love you so much. I wished you do not have to leave.” Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke. “I promise you, I will play that tune on your birthday every year. I will do so until the day I meet you again, and then we can play it together-on our white grand piano.” He couldn’t help but smile at the scene in his head.
“-and we’ll do just that.”
It was a whisper against Kyuhyun’s lips as he pressed firmly onto the other. No words were needed then. Every single promise- unspoken, was conveyed through that moment of connection. And he felt peace and contentment wash over him. Something in him finally settled, everything felt right all of a sudden and that scared him a little.
The two men parted when a weak hand lightly patted Kyuhyun on the arm. “I love you too.” There was a soft chuckle before dry cough seized his thin frame.
Kyuhyun lowered his head so that both their foreheads touched. He cupped the other’s face in his warm hands. Nothing, no words were exchanged and he relished in the peaceful silence for a little moment. The man in bed had his eyes closed, his breathing gentle and shallow against Kyuhyun’s face.
His eyes softened at how relaxed the other was. His chin wobbled as tears are threatened from their dam again. He knows he will never regret this. “Go, hyung…” He choked on a sob. “Just go- you’ve had enough. It’s time to rest… I love you, Han Geng.”
A smile answered him before the lips moved. No sound came but Kyuhyun clearly saw what it mouthed. The young man stepped back, and sat back down on his seat beside the bed as he kept the feeble hand in his. He watched as the other man’s chest rise shallowly, each breath he took was weak and labored. Kyuhyun widened his eyes and nearly jumped, but he forced himself to stay seated when a sudden deep breath was drawn. Like an inflated balloon slowly let out of its air, the elder man’s chest slowly descended.
Kyuhyun brought the other’s hand to his lips and waited for the next breath, but it never came.
By the time he ended the bittersweet harmony, the one which Hangeng so dearly loved and favored, Kyuhyun’s tears had already been drained and dried on his cheeks.
This… this is why the vow existed-but today will always be exception.
Thank you.
To Be continued--
A/N: I know I said you'd be my beta for this fic, but I just want this first chapter to be a surprise for you. *cries* Tomorrow is the day! 我们一起加油哦!! 알라뷰 <33333 Hehehehe~
Pairings: KyuMin, Past!KyuHan
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mentions of character death
Summary: A past, a buried passion, two stories, two men, an untold love story.
A/N: Stef's plot bunny strayed loose and begged me to take it in. LOl. Her plot, my words, our story. (:
The heat was warm on his skin, penetrating through his eyelids as the red glow of morning sun greeted him from his window even before he opened his eyes. He stretched, arms reaching blindly above his head, and yawned. The young man sat up rubbing his eyes, and turned to the photo frame standing elegantly on the table next to his bed, like a morning routine.
“Happy birthday.” He whispered lightly as he reached out to caress the white frame. Two friends with their arms around each other were smiling happily, the wind in their hair- staring at him. And he did the same with a little smile back.
It was an infinity later that he decided he'd be late if he doesn't get his ass out of bed, and get ready for school soon. No, he wouldn't need his professor's nagging on a day like this. He pulled on his jeans as he fumbled for the nicest shirt he has in his closet. He brushed his teeth, did a quick wash for his face, a last check in the mirror, running a hand through his messy hazel brown curls in an attempt to make himself look more presentable-though one would be curious how he could do it without a comb- and grabbed his bag from his desk. Slinging it over his shoulder, he opened the door of his room, only to slam it shut, a little too loud in his hurry.
“Oh sweetheart, I was about to check on you. Here,” The young man grabbed whatever was held out to him. “Breakfast-“
“Bye mom.” He reached the main door, one hand on the knob just as his mother called out to him.
The slender woman smiled when her son finally stopped to look at her for the first time ever since he stepped out of his room. She knew better than to give him a lecture on manners, especially today. “You forgot this.” She held out a neatly tucked folder.
The young man looked down at the transparent file in her hand. It was all too familiar, what it contained. Tapping lightly on his temple with his forefinger, “It's all up here.” He smiled when there was a too long moment of pause between the mother and son. Stepping forward and embracing his mother gently in his arms, he closed his eyes and spoke on an exhale, words that were meant for her ears only. “Thank you.”
Swallowing tightly as she stepped back to give him a glance over, “You look good today.” She cleared her throat at the bile forming and forced a smile. “Now run along, or you'll be late for school.”
The young man grinned at her, pecked her softly on the cheek and turned towards the main door again. Stopping short just before he closed it, “Don't wait up.” He called out, earning an understanding nod from his mother before the sounding click of the lock behind him.
***
“Young master,” A man, hair combed back with streaks of white and black, mostly the former, dressed neatly in a freshly pressed tuxedo, stood at the foot of a large bed.
“Young master?” He tried again when there was no response. The young man doesn't usually require any help in waking up early for school. So when the elder man had glanced at the clock on the wall after assigning the roles to the new employees in the house, and realised he hadn't seen any trace of the young man at all, he decided to check in on him.
“Mmph-“ A hand escaped the warmth of the covers to weakly wave off the source of hoarse voice.
“You're going to be late if-“
There wasn't even a chance for him to finish when the young master bolted out of bed. The butler barely held back a gasp and jumped back in surprise.
“Oh shoot shoot shoot. Damn it. First day of school and I'm gonna be late. Great, just great.”
The middle aged man stood rooted and stared at the scene before him in amusement. His young master was now struggling with a foot (seemingly stuck) in his jeans- the thumping on the carpeted floor as the young man hopped about on his other foot wasn’t oblivious despite his poor hearing, which he always blamed it on his age.
“Oh fuck-“
“Language, young master, mind your language.” The respected butler chided gently, earning a groan and a few grumbled protests, though the young man later did stop cursing at whatever that served as an obstacle in his hurried state.
The elder man approached his young master when he was struggling with his hair, pulling at the knots painfully, face grimacing. Taking over the comb and brushing through the black silk, “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
It was a breathless appreciation towards the simple act and the elder man just smiled, as always, and followed close behind as his young master swung his bedroom door open with a surprising amount of strength. He congratulated himself for catching it just in time before it slammed into the wall behind it. He closed the expensive piece of wood swiftly and soundlessly after them, walking with hastened steps, as fast as his aging body would permit.
“Young master, your breakfast-“ He heaved while stalking down the stairs after the man, who was already halfway through the huge living hall, towards the car.
“No time.” The young man took over his bag from a hand out of nowhere, “Thank you.” He muttered. Eyes all the while trained forward. Damn it, he’s going to be late on his first day in his new school.
***
Cho Kyuhyun sits at his usual desk with both feet spread out in front of him. He leaned back against his chair with both arms crossed over his chest, eyes staring blankly at the scene at the front of the lecture hall.
New student.
Late.
“Hello everyone, my name is Sungmin and I look forward to working and being friends with everybody.”
Lame.
The eyes twinkle even under the bright fluorescent lights in the hall, the smile so genuine; the man named Sungmin introduced himself to his new classmates.
Sungmin scanned through the hall. He smiled back when a group of girls at the middle of the huge room giggled and waved at him.
"Thank you Sungmin ssi, now would you go find yourself a seat, please?" A man in his mid forties, probably, patted him on the back and gestured towards the class.
Sungmin bowed politely to his professor before walking towards the only seat he found empty. It was a corner seat at the last second row. He smiled at his new neighbours only to have one unreturned. The man seated behind him only stared straight ahead, no intention of acknowledging him at all. Never could get used to hostility, Sungmin frowned, and turned back to his seat.
Getting himself comfortable, he lets his legs stretch out in front and lays his bag on the table- out of where he was going to write. A black string of ink at the top corner of his desk, however, caught the peripheral of his eye. They were not words, he mused to himself, but an abstract of a music piece. Curious, he leaned forward and studied them carefully, running his finger across the notes. Having played the piano since young, the black inked markings on the table were definitely not anything new to him-the composition, however, was unlike any piece he’d played before. It wasn’t familiar. It wasn’t one of the famous pieces that he liked to play or was asked to play either. A self-composition by someone, perhaps-
He was jerked out of his reverie when a hard kick was delivered to the back of his chair.
“What the-“ Sungmin whirled about almost too abruptly, but the culprit just stared back unfeelingly with a tiny tinge of reproach deep in those orbs, just a little. It was surprising though, because it was more than enough to make Sungmin feel a little guilty. But hey, what have he done?
“Don’t touch that.”
Sungmin gave a look to the man who gave the monotonous command. The voice was much deeper as compared to his-it was smooth, almost like velvet and silk. It sent off comforting waves of warmth, yet the iciness in those dark orbs spoke a different language, and not to mention the bite behind the seemingly harmless tone.
“Wh-what?”
The man tilted his chin in determined challenge, eyes set on Sungmin’s finger, which was still resting on the black ink. “Don’t. Touch. That.”
Sungmin frowned and looked down at his own finger. Oh. He looked back to his new classmate and withdrew his finger immediately, as though he’d been burnt by the ink. The anger in the other’s eyes was unmistakable and Sungmin knew better than to retort- no matter how unreasonable he felt this was. Surely he can touch anything he wants, especially his own table right? Humph.
***
Now, this is why Kyuhyun doesn’t like new students. Everyone in class knows they have to avoid the table the new student is sitting in, much less touch the black ink on it. He had been prepared for a showdown or a quarrel, or whatever you call it the minute blazing eyes met his. He’d kicked too hard- harder than he intended again. The last time anyone touched the ink on the desk had turned the whole lecture hall into a chaotic mess, and him ending up in the disciplinary office with a busted lip-the other student, a black eye.
So he was surprised, he had to admit, that this new one, Sungmin, right, that’s his name, lifted his finger immediately and obeyed him without even a single protest. Kyuhyun nearly gawked at the compliance, and even with the commencement of the first lesson, his eyes were still fixed on the back of the head of the other guy.
He knew he was being outright unreasonable… but no one, and everyone knows that, can touch the abstract of notes. No one, except him.
***
“Coming, I’m coming.” Sungmin hung up his phone impatiently. He clicked his tongue and combed through his hair in annoyance. Seriously, did his driver think there wouldn’t be any distance from class to the school’s main gate? He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, and walked hurriedly down the empty hallway. His classy shoes clicked away, his posture straight in trained position-Lee Sungmin was never a man he wanted to be.
He missed his childhood friends. They were the only friends he had, actually. Ever since he left the place where he was born at 13, he had followed his parents everywhere they went with their business. He never stayed long in any school he attended, therefore, that means no friends- which also, was a relief to his mother, who seemed to think there was never anybody trustworthy enough to befriend him. Sungmin sighed. All he could think of is the days he had left in this current school before they shift to another city again.
He halted in his steps when a lively melody suddenly echoed in his surroundings. Music was his escape, always have been. It was his only pillar when things were too hard to hold on to. It was his confidant when no one was there. It embraced him when he cried in loneliness. It was his only friend.
Sungmin walked towards the source of the enchanting harmony, all thoughts of driver and parents driven from his mind. He approached a door, the only one left slightly ajar as if it had been left deliberately open for someone. It was louder now when he pushed the door further apart. The play over the piano keys was fast and quick with practiced precision, almost professional. The one on the piano was happy-Sungmin could see that even with the back facing him. There was a slight bounce in the other’s fingers as they danced over the keys, his body swinging with the tune, and Sungmin thought he caught an upward quirk at the corner of the man’s lips.
He jumped when vibration buzzed in his back pocket. He closed the door back to its original position and started down the hallway again. Cursing inwardly, he smacked the phone to the side of his face, not even bothering to look at the caller ID flashing on the screen. “Coming, I’m coming.”
***
Kyuhyun smiled as he played the familiar piece of music. His fingers ran over the white piano keys as they played the happy tune. It was his favourite tune because it was the first piece he learned. He could still remember how happy his parents were, clapping him on the back and full of praises for him. They were happy for him, and so was he. Memories are something Kyuhyun holds really dear to him. They bring him back to happy times which he can no longer visit. No matter how happy he can be in the future, he knows it will never be the same. Nothing will ever be the same anymore.
And with that, he ends on the short, high pitch note of the composition. A sad smile framed his face as he thought about the happy times he used to have-used to take advantage of while foolishly thinking he had forever.
Looking down at his fingers where they splayed out gently on the piano keys, his tan skin a great contrast to the pure white. He allowed himself to sit in silence for a moment. Collecting his emotions, tucking them back safely into the confines of his heart. He drew in a breath and let them out on a shaky one. Lifting his fingers, he strikes the first note of the next tune, low and heavy. He doesn’t know how, but it always seems to happen. The first drop of tear slid down his left cheek.
It was another of those very familiar harmonies, except that this was the only one never before heard by any others. It was also the only one he had strict expectations of, one he wouldn’t allow any mistakes in playing at all even with his lack of practice. It was his first self-composed tune and also his last. All it took was a stupid vow he knew would put his talent to shame- to stop playing, to stop composing, to do what he did best… all because it hurts too much. Only on a day like this, only today, does he allow himself to reopen his wound and wallow in it. And this day alone is enough to break him and bring him back to where he so desperately tried to hide from. It was almost too much for him to bear, but he just had to do it.
“Promise me?”
Kyuhyun held the cool, weak hand in his much warmer ones. He swallowed thickly, and tried to fight the hiccup that came forth with his emotions. He was trembling, his body was shaking and he knew better than to blame it on the chill around the quiet room.
“I promise you.” He wasn’t surprised when the answer came out on a squeak. He was trying so hard not to cry, trying so hard to smile, to be strong at this time- especially in front of this dying man. The man he loves so much, it hurts to see he was doing the same.
A small smile framed the other’s pale face the same time he lifted a shaky hand to brush away the rebellious tears on Kyuhyun’s face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t,” Kyuhyun hissed fiercely in protective anger. Grabbing both of the man’s feeble hands, he leaned closer so the other could hear what he wanted him to know all this time. “I love you, hyung. I love you so much. I wished you do not have to leave.” Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke. “I promise you, I will play that tune on your birthday every year. I will do so until the day I meet you again, and then we can play it together-on our white grand piano.” He couldn’t help but smile at the scene in his head.
“-and we’ll do just that.”
It was a whisper against Kyuhyun’s lips as he pressed firmly onto the other. No words were needed then. Every single promise- unspoken, was conveyed through that moment of connection. And he felt peace and contentment wash over him. Something in him finally settled, everything felt right all of a sudden and that scared him a little.
The two men parted when a weak hand lightly patted Kyuhyun on the arm. “I love you too.” There was a soft chuckle before dry cough seized his thin frame.
Kyuhyun lowered his head so that both their foreheads touched. He cupped the other’s face in his warm hands. Nothing, no words were exchanged and he relished in the peaceful silence for a little moment. The man in bed had his eyes closed, his breathing gentle and shallow against Kyuhyun’s face.
His eyes softened at how relaxed the other was. His chin wobbled as tears are threatened from their dam again. He knows he will never regret this. “Go, hyung…” He choked on a sob. “Just go- you’ve had enough. It’s time to rest… I love you, Han Geng.”
A smile answered him before the lips moved. No sound came but Kyuhyun clearly saw what it mouthed. The young man stepped back, and sat back down on his seat beside the bed as he kept the feeble hand in his. He watched as the other man’s chest rise shallowly, each breath he took was weak and labored. Kyuhyun widened his eyes and nearly jumped, but he forced himself to stay seated when a sudden deep breath was drawn. Like an inflated balloon slowly let out of its air, the elder man’s chest slowly descended.
Kyuhyun brought the other’s hand to his lips and waited for the next breath, but it never came.
By the time he ended the bittersweet harmony, the one which Hangeng so dearly loved and favored, Kyuhyun’s tears had already been drained and dried on his cheeks.
This… this is why the vow existed-but today will always be exception.
Thank you.
To Be continued--
A/N: I know I said you'd be my beta for this fic, but I just want this first chapter to be a surprise for you. *cries* Tomorrow is the day! 我们一起加油哦!! 알라뷰 <33333 Hehehehe~