Still Life
Title: Still Life
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook, Yesung/Kyuhyun (friendship)
Rating: R
Word count: 4,591
Summary: Jongwoon fell in love with Ryeowook in high school, and never fell out of it even after Ryeowook exited his life. So he finds the next best thing to replace him, but it sends him into a downward spiral of insanity.
A/N: Written for miracle______'s 2009 Halloween fic contest, originally posted here. 3rd place winner.
___
Whenever Jongwoon’s sad, or depressed, or lonely, he allows his thoughts to drift back to the days when he was in high school, when he first got to know a boy named Kim Ryeowook, a small, beautiful, quiet boy with flawless skin and perfect cheekbones and the voice of an angel.
Only, Ryeowook never even realized he was alive, because Ryeowook was the singing star of the school, a musical genius, while Jongwoon was simply known as the weird, creepy geek whom everyone should avoid.
During his four years of high school, Jongwoon never spoke to Ryeowook once, but he knew everything there was to know about him. He followed him around campus, followed him to his home; sometimes he’d sit outside his house, staring up at the window of Ryeowook’s bedroom, watching his shadow as he moved around in it. He’d listen outside the music room when he practiced singing and piano, peek into his classrooms, sit near him during lunch, near enough to see him smile and hear him laugh. Ryeowook never noticed him, because he was, after all, Kim Jongwoon, the weird loner who never spoke to anyone.
So Jongwoon’s never spoken to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook’s never known him, and they went their separate ways after graduating from high school, but Jongwoon gathered from the bits and pieces he’d picked up from overhearing conversations - he’s good at that, seeing as how it’s the only way he ever gets information since no one ever talks to him - that Ryeowook went on to study music in New York while he, on the other hand, went to a third-class university to study computing.
Nevertheless, whenever the quiet of his apartment threatens to suffocate him, or when hours spent in front of a computer screen is making his head pound, or when Jongwoon is overwhelmed by the silence and loneliness and needs a voice or a presence or something, anything, he conjures up his memories of Ryeowook, what he remembers from watching on the sidelines for four years: Ryeowook on the piano, Ryeowook singing in the school auditorium, Ryeowook eating lunch, Ryeowook walking and smiling, Ryeowook Ryeowook Ryeowook.
It always makes him feel better afterwards.
When he thinks about it, Ryeowook’s the first person he ever fell in love with, and six years may have passed since then, but he’s never fallen out of love, and no one has ever measured up to Ryeowook.
___
Jongwoon first gets the idea when he’s having dinner with Kyuhyun, on one of the rare few times he ventures out of his apartment.
Kyuhyun’s probably the only friend Jongwoon has, someone he met at university when the both of them were taking a computing math course and ended up being in the same project group together. Jongwoon doesn’t know why Kyuhyun bothered talking to him then when no one else did, and still continues to do so even though they’ve already graduated for a couple of years. He tries to tell himself it’s because Kyuhyun genuinely likes being around him, weird and silent as he can be, but sometimes when he happens to look into Kyuhyun’s eyes he catches that glint of pity there. Most times he ignores it. Sometimes he can’t.
This is one of those times when he sees that look, and Kyuhyun’s not exactly bothering to hide it, so he can’t choose to avoid it.
“So… you haven’t gone out for what, a month? Two?” Kyuhyun’s asking, with the look. Jongwoon hates it. So he isn’t Mr. Popular like Kyuhyun is, Kyuhyun who has a different girl hanging off his arm every month and the high-paying, high-flying job as a computer analyst in some global bank. It doesn’t mean Kyuhyun can be condescending towards him. He jabs his chopsticks furiously into his bowl of rice, stuffing his mouth as full as possible so he doesn’t have to reply, looking studiously downwards so he doesn’t have to see Kyuhyun’s face.
Kyuhyun waits a couple of seconds for him to answer, then lets out a sigh. “You know, hyung, you should try to go out more. Meet more people. It’s unhealthy to be cooped up in that apartment of yours all the time. Look, I met this babe the other day, she has the hottest body this side of Seoul. I could set you two up for a meeting, what do you - “
“No,” Jongwoon manages to say through his mouthful of rice, and means it. Why would he want one of Kyuhyun’s cast-offs? And anyway, no one he’s ever seen, male or female, compares to Ryeowook, beautiful, sweet Ryeowook who went out of his life six years ago and never came back.
“You always say that,” Kyuhyun grumbles. “Hey, hyung, you know what, you need to get out there, have sex, at least. If you don’t use that piece of equipment enough, it’s going to rot and fall off.”
Jongwoon chokes. “I do use it,” he says hotly, bits of rice dropping out of his mouth as he speaks; Kyuhyun winces, and Jongwoon looks down again, cursing himself for agreeing to meet Kyuhyun, when it never makes him feel good.
Kyuhyun’s eyes widen. “You do? With whom?”
“Ryeowook,” Jongwoon says without thinking, mind distracted by the times he had, well, used it on Ryeowook (albeit in his imagination only). He’s angry now, too, because Kyuhyun has no right to pry in his private life, and he doesn’t know why he allows Kyuhyun to do this all the time, and he’s had enough of Kyuhyun flaunting his sexual prowess in front of him each and every time they meet and sneering at him.
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun gasps. “You - you know someone? I mean, you have a girlfriend?”
Jongwoon looks up at Kyuhyun and sees how stunned he is, how his mouth is open wide in shock, and he realizes that he’s never seen Kyuhyun looking at him this way before, ever. It’s a nice feeling, he thinks; it feels empowering somehow. And suddenly he’s seized with a need to put Kyuhyun in his place.
“Ryeowook, that’s my boyfriend,” he repeats, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. He relishes it - why has he never realized before that lying is so gratifying, especially as the pity in Kyuhyun’s eyes is slowly dimming? “Yeah, I’m gay. You have a problem with that?”
“No,” Kyuhyun replies immediately, shaking his head. “No, of course not. Look, hyung, I’m happy you’ve found someone, but when did this happen?”
So Jongwoon tells him. And he tells him more, making everything up as he goes along, feeling better and better with each lie that falls from his lips, taking satisfaction in Kyuhyun’s obvious admiration.
It’s when they finally say goodbye (Kyuhyun gets the bill, like he always does, but for once Jongwoon is grinning at him and not feeling like a loser), that Kyuhyun says something which sticks in his head.
“Hyung, it’s good you finally have someone. Imagining that you’re fucking someone is completely different from actually fucking someone, you know what I mean? I’m surprised your right hand hasn’t broken by now, all these years you’ve been alone.” And he’s off, with a lascivious grin and a wink, but Jongwoon can’t get his words out of his mind.
___
When Jongwoon gets home, the first thing he does is sit down in front of his computer and search for a particular website he’s read about before. Kyuhyun’s words are ringing in his ears and they sting despite the earlier glow he’d felt at seeing Kyuhyun’s awe, because that’s all he’s been doing - imagining.
It’s not like he’s a virgin; he’s had a couple of whores before. He’d bought one because the boy had high cheekbones and pretty rosebud lips and in the dim light of his apartment, with his eyes half-closed, he could almost imagine the boy was Ryeowook. The second one, he’d bought because he was small and slender and there was something in the way his hips swung as he walked that reminded him of Ryeowook. Each time he went back to them, that was all he had in mind: Ryeowook. But they weren’t Ryeowook, never could be, and he’d tired of them eventually.
Besides, his imagination provides more pleasure than anyone that isn’t Ryeowook ever can.
But Kyuhyun’s words remind him that imagination isn’t everything, but Jongwoon doesn’t have Ryeowook, doesn’t even know where he is or what he’s doing, so now he has to find the next best thing - make a Ryeowook for himself, as this website he’s staring at promises.
He sends in several photographs of Ryeowook, several he’d taken surreptitiously all those years ago, showing Ryeowook’s face close up, some taken from the back, some taken full-length, displaying every angle of his body. The website guarantees his money back if he isn’t satisfied with how his item looks, so he pays willingly, despite the fact that it eats up at least half of his savings.
Making a Ryeowook isn’t cheap, but Jongwoon hopes it’ll be worth it when it’s finally delivered to him.
___
The doll’s delivered to his doorstep two months later, carefully wrapped in a padding of velvet and Styrofoam.
It takes Jongwoon’s breath away when he tears away the layers and exposes it, because there’s Ryeowook right in front of him, from the silken hair (real human hair, the website promised), to the soft skin that warms up as he rubs his hands over it (made of a lifelike heat-retaining silicone, said the website), and the features are Ryeowook through and through, the long lashes framing glassy brown eyes and the limbs long and slender (made to your every specification, from height to weight, the website boasted).
It’s beautiful, Jongwoon thinks, almost as beautiful as the real Ryeowook.
___
The first time he uses the doll, Jongwoon’s nervous as hell.
This is pathetic, he thinks, as he carefully arranges the doll on his bed and pulls its legs apart. Now I’m reduced to fucking a stupid silicone doll. Thanks, Kyuhyun, for being such an asshole.
His hands are still shaking as he runs them across the inner thighs of the doll, but the cold material is magically warming under his touch, so he can almost imagine it’s Ryeowook, skin getting flushed with heat and want, and his nervousness drops away bit by bit.
It’s different, so different from the real people he’s had sex with, cold and impersonal and lifeless, because the doll doesn’t respond, doesn’t make any sound, doesn’t move. And yet, as he looks down at its face, with its sweet soft lips and delicate sharp cheekbones, the way the light glinting off the glass eyes making it seem as if the doll is actually blinking and looking straight back at him, he swears it’s Ryeowook underneath him, and the part-lifelikeness, part-surrealism of the whole situation makes him even more lightheaded and more sensitive than usual.
When he comes, he gasps Ryeowook’s name out loud, fingers laced together with the warm ones of the doll.
___
After that first time, it gets easier and easier for Jongwoon to use the doll.
He doesn’t even mind so much that it’s limp and pliant; that’s how he imagines innocent little Ryeowook, as he knew him back in high school, to be like, and he’s careful with it, sometimes wrapping it up in warm blankets first to heat it up before using it, arranging it in various poses so he doesn’t get bored.
He likes the doll more than any whore he’s ever had, he thinks, because it’s soft and sweet and untouched by anyone but him, just like Ryeowook should have been. It looks more like Ryeowook than anyone he’s ever been with, and sometimes he kisses it, closing his eyes and feeling the lips dip under the pressure of his own.
It’s everything he’s ever imagined Ryeowook to be.
___
On one of the nights he’s using the doll - Jongwoon’s losing count already; he never goes out, and he spends all his time with it anyway - he comes with a shudder and a cry of Ryeowook’s name, hands gripping the slender hips of the doll, and as he rolls off it, exhausted, he sees the doll’s eyes follow him, and the corners of its lips tilt upwards in a smile.
He sits bolt upright, shocked and a little scared, and bends over it, but its expression is as frozen as before, the eyes and mouth unmoving, and he relaxes.
___
He soon finds himself falling into the habit of talking to the doll. After the initial awkwardness at talking to an inanimate object, Jongwoon begins to do it quite naturally. It starts off with bits and pieces, snippets of the thoughts running through his mind - Jongwoon’s quite used to talking aloud anyway, having been alone for years and hearing no other voice but his own - and then it grows to become more. More words, more conversations, and over it all the delight at finally finding companionship, real or imagined.
It comforts him, and now, the loneliness doesn’t seem as suffocating as it used to be, because he has his very own Ryeowook. And this Ryeowook is always patient, and quiet, and always listens to all his problems and worries. It makes Jongwoon feel, for the first time in his life, that he’s not alone.
___
“Hyung?”
“Kyuhyun? Why are you calling?”
Jongwoon’s frustrated; he’s working on a website, and the coding is driving him insane, not to mention that it’s taking out precious time that he should be spending with the doll - Ryeowook - which is currently placed in a chair next to him, so he can turn and look at it when he tires of the screen, drinking in the delicate curves of every feature.
“Just calling to see how you’re doing, hyung. I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been out at all? Or have you been cooping yourself up again?”
“Of - of course I have gone out,” Jongwoon says. It’s not a lie, he rationalizes; quick trips to the convenience store to stock up on ramyeon count as going out, don’t they? And besides, he can’t bear to leave Ryeowook alone too long.
“How’s Ryeowook? Are you still with him?”
This time, Jongwoon smiles, staring at the doll. “Yes, of course, he’s right here now, in fact.”
Kyuhyun’s chuckle is deep and knowing. “Well, uh - in that case, won’t bother you then, hyung. Let’s meet up for some drinks soon, when your toy boy isn’t keeping you too busy. Or, you know, bring him along.”
Jongwoon keeps smiling. “Sure,” he says, and when he hangs up he turns to the doll, heaving an exaggerated sigh.
“Sorry, Ryeowook, that was Kyuhyun. I’ve told you about him before, haven’t I? He’s a brat, but he’s my only friend. Well, my only friend, except you, of course. But you’re more than just a friend to me, obviously. But he’s such an irritant sometimes, I think if he ever saw you he’d bother you, and I don’t want him to - “
It’s okay.
Jongwoon’s head snaps up and he stares at the doll, which is as silent and unmoving as ever, hands placed demurely in its lap.
“What?” he says out loud, but the doll doesn’t answer.
He blinks several times and turns back to the computer screen, but not before seeing, from the corner of his eye, the doll’s lips curve up into a smile, though when he swings his head back, there’s nothing there.
“You little tease,” he growls, pushing himself away from the desk and towards the doll. “Why are you always like this?”
He reaches out for it - for Ryeowook, and as he does, he thinks he hears a small laugh, high-pitched and clear as a glass bell. It makes him smile as he presses his lips to Ryeowook’s, hands running familiarly across the small body.
___
Jongwoon’s dressing Ryeowook up in brand-new clothes that he bought for him, tenderly pushing the arms through the sleeves and buttoning the shirt up, and pulling the pants up the legs.
“What do you think? Nice, huh?” he asks, grinning, propping his limp figure up against the headboard of the bed.
He looks downwards then, smoothing out the material of the pants, and he glimpses Ryeowook nodding and smiling at him. His heart swells with pride and happiness, and he hurries to get his camera. He climbs into bed next to Ryeowook, putting an arm around him and pulling him close so they’re pressed cheek to cheek.
“Smile,” he instructs, and snaps a photo of the both of them, but when he looks at the image, Ryeowook isn’t smiling.
“Hey,” he says indignantly. “I told you to smile. Let’s try that again, okay?”
He snaps picture after picture, over and over again, but Ryeowook never smiles in any of them.
“I don’t get it,” he says softly, putting the camera aside and staring at him. “Are you unhappy about something?”
He blinks, and at that moment he catches Ryeowook shaking his head and smiling, and Jongwoon feels relieved because of course Ryeowook is happy with him, and if he doesn’t like smiling for the camera Jongwoon’s not going to force him.
___
Kyuhyun calls again a few weeks later and urges him to go out, and despite his misgivings, Jongwoon does so, giving Ryeowook a peck on the lips and a promise to be back early.
When he finally makes it back, stumbling through the door about 3 hours after the time he’d told Ryeowook he’d return, his heart turns cold, because Ryeowook’s sitting in the exact same place he’d left him in before, and there’s no smile on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, moving quickly over to cradle Ryeowook in his arms. “I’m sorry, Ryeowook, I know you waited up for me, I - “
Ryeowook flops limply in his arms as he lifts him up and carries him to the bed, folding him under the blankets before slipping in next to him. Jongwoon almost has tears in his eyes, because Ryeowook’s never been so cold to him before, and that means he’s really angry.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, kissing him. Ryeowook doesn’t respond, doesn’t even smile, and it tears Jongwoon apart.
___
"What do you want for breakfast today, Ryeowook-ah?" Jongwoon asks, forcing himself to sound cheerful, as he rummages in his refridgerator. He pulls out several packets of something, he can’t tell what, but the smell’s driving him crazy and he figures he'd left them in too long - they’re practically black by now. Gingerly holding them by two fingers, he strides past the table where Ryeowook’s sitting and dumps them in the garbage disposal, then washes his hands.
Ryeowook’s still silent, and Jongwoon frowns. He walks up to him and kneels next to him, taking his hands and rubbing them. They’re cold and limp, and Jongwoon presses one to his cheek before kissing the fingers.
"I said I was sorry about yesterday, baby," he says quietly. "Please, don't be mad at me anymore? I love you."
Ryeowook remains unmoving, and Jongwoon looks up into his beautiful face. He stares back at Jongwoon, but he still doesn’t respond.
"I'm sorry," he tries again. "I love you, Ryeowook. Please, talk to me? Don't be angry."
There’s a long pause - Jongwoon keeps rubbing Ryeowook's hands, feeling them warm up under his touch - and then suddenly Ryeowook smiles at him, just a small one, but Jongwoon feels all the tension and fear drain out of him at it.
I'm not mad, Jongwoon, Ryeowook says softly. Just don't do it again, okay?
"I won't, I promise I won't," Jongwoon says, getting back up and cupping Ryeowook's face, giving him a quick kiss. "You feel so cold all over, Ryeowook," he murmurs against his lips, which are indeed surprisingly cold. "I'll go get you a sweater, then I'll make us breakfast.”
He feels Ryeowook squeeze his hand, the hand that’s still holding him. It's okay, I'm fine. It makes Jongwoon’s heart leap at how sweet and forgiving he is, and he swears and promises that he will never go out with Kyuhyun ever again, no matter how much coercion Kyuhyun applies. Ryeowook needs him much, much more.
Ryeowook only responds with a small smile, which makes Jongwoon happy enough. Ryeowook doesn’t talk much anyway, but that’s okay, because the Ryeowook that Jongwoon knew in high school never did, either.
___
Jongwoon’s cuddling Ryeowook in his arms, warm and drowsy in post-orgasmic bliss, when there’s an insistent ringing of the doorbell, which shocks him. He never gets visitors, except for door-to-door salesmen, but what salesman will come by at past 10 at night?
With a reassuring peck on Ryeowook’s cheek and a warning for him to stay still, he slides out of bed and pulls on a pair of shorts, before pulling the blankets back over Ryeowook and heading to the front door. He gets an even bigger shock, though, when he looks through the peephole, because it’s Kyuhyun standing out there, frowning and looking worried.
He opens the door, gaping. “Kyuhyun? What are you doing here?”
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun bursts out. “What’s going on? I was worried about you!”
“About me?” Jongwoon asks dazedly as he steps backwards, and Kyuhyun enters after him.
“I’ve been calling and calling, hyung. You haven’t answered your phone in two months. I thought you were dead!” he says, distress etched all over his face.
“I’m not dead!” Jongwoon retorts. “I’ve just been - been busy.” He falters, thinking of all the times his phone had started buzzing, and he’d ignored it, because he didn’t want to make Ryeowook angry again.
“Busy for two whole months?” Kyuhyun says disbelievingly.
“Yeah. Well, it’s Ryeowook. He likes me with him, so…”
Kyuhyun’s eyes light up. “Ryeowook’s with you now?”
“Yeah, he lives with me.”
“Well, introduce us, hyung! And for God’s sake, why are both of you cooping yourselves up? I thought you were weird enough, but it appears you found someone just as weird and willing to stay holed up in here with you. What are the odds of - “
Kyuhyun trails off here, because Jongwoon’s just reached the door of his bedroom and motioned Kyuhyun in, while calling softly, “Ryeowook-ah, it’s Kyuhyun, my friend. Remember him?”
He turns to Kyuhyun, shrugging apologetically. “Ryeowook’s kind of shy, sorry. He never talks much. He doesn’t even move much, silly boy, he just waits for me to move him around and he just follows, he - Kyuhyun, what’s wrong?”
Kyuhyun’s face is white as he stares at Ryeowook on the bed, and Jongwoon feels the first prickling of fear at the look on his face - a look of fear, horror, disgust, and disbelief all at once. He looks from Kyuhyun to Ryeowook, who’s staring back at the both of them and looking completely blank, and it starts to terrify him.
“What’s wrong? Kyuhyun? Ryeowook?”
There’s a long pause before Kyuhyun finally speaks, his voice hoarse and shaky. “Hyung, is that - is that Ryeowook?” He points at Ryeowook, his hand trembling, and Jongwoon’s eyes follow it, wondering what’s happening to Kyuhyun.
“Yes, of course.”
“That’s your boyfriend? Ryeowook? The one who you told me you’ve been spending time with all this while?”
“Yeah,” Jongwoon says, confused. “Hey, Kyuhyun, why are you - “
“Hyung, that’s a fucking doll, it’s not fucking real, what’s wrong with you, hyung?”
Jongwoon freezes; he feels the skin on his face turn cold, and it almost feels like glass when he moves his mouth to speak. “Kyuhyun, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”
“That’s not your boyfriend,” Kyuhyun spits out. “That’s a doll, a stupid doll, look at it, hyung, have you gone insane?”
“Don’t talk about Ryeowook like that,” Jongwoon whispers, his voice low and dangerous. He can feel Ryeowook’s eyes on them, and it kills him, because Ryeowook is hearing everything Kyuhyun says, and how must he be feeling?
“No, hyung, snap out of it, stop talking like it’s real because it’s not, it’s a doll, a doll - “
Jongwoon doesn’t even realize he’s moved, but he must have, because the next second there’s a crushing pain in his knuckles as his clenched fist collides with Kyuhyun’s jaw and sends him spinning to the ground.
“I said, don’t talk about Ryeowook like that,” he growls, as Kyuhyun gets back to his feet, spitting blood out from the corner of his mouth, glaring at him, his face now completely furious instead of fearful.
“You’re insane. You’re fucking insane.”
“You barge into my house and call Ryeowook names and I’m the insane one?” Jongwoon yells.
“Wake up!” Kyuhyun shouts back, and this time it’s Kyuhyun’s fist to his cheek, making him reel and stumble, and Kyuhyun grabs him back by the shoulders and begins shaking him, hitting him, again and again, and Jongwoon’s so stunned that he can’t react to defend himself.
“Wake up, you idiot, look at it, look at yourself, it’s not real!” Kyuhyun keeps crying, but Jongwoon’s head is dizzy now and black spots are appearing in front of his eyes.
The last thing he sees before he passes out are tears in Kyuhyun’s eyes, eyes that glimmer with pity for him, and behind him, Ryeowook in the bed, staring at him without a single smile on his face or a flicker of change in his expression.
___
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Kyuhyun asks.
The psychiatrist shakes his head. “Unfortunately, we think Jongwoon-sshi was left alone for far too long. Obsessive personalities like his, coupled with lack of social contact, makes it extremely easy for him to create a fantasy life like what he did, once he fixates on an idea.”
“There must be something, anything. Medication?”
“What we’re trying with him now is cognitive and behavioural therapy, and he’s on tranquilizers and antidepressants, because he’s extremely depressed. His dependency on that doll was intense, and it’s rather hard to put him through therapy. It’s going to take time, lots of time.”
Kyuhyun nods silently, absorbing the information. “Can I see him?”
“Yes, of course,” the doctor says, rising to his feet; Kyuhyun follows. “But he gets violent occasionally, so we had to put him in a padded cell for now. We’ll move him to a normal ward once his condition improves. It’d be good if he gets visitors then; interaction with the outside world may assist in his recovery.”
The doctor leads him out of his office and down several long corridors, finally stopping in front of a door. There’s a single small window set at eye-level, and Kyuhyun hesitates, looking at the doctor.
“I’m sorry, Kyuhyun-sshi, but in the meantime, you’ll have to observe him like this.”
Kyuhyun nods and steps up to the window, looking through it. The cell is tiny and square and grey, and Jongwoon is seated on the small bed against one wall. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his arms are curled around them, and he’s staring at nothing, though his lips keep moving.
It takes Kyuhyun a while to read what he’s saying from his lip movements: Ryeowook, I love you, Ryeowook, Ryeowook, I love you, Ryeowook.
And Kyuhyun feels like screaming, but he bites his lip, and all that comes out is a single tear from the corner of his eye, which he brushes away.
Pairing: Yesung/Ryeowook, Yesung/Kyuhyun (friendship)
Rating: R
Word count: 4,591
Summary: Jongwoon fell in love with Ryeowook in high school, and never fell out of it even after Ryeowook exited his life. So he finds the next best thing to replace him, but it sends him into a downward spiral of insanity.
A/N: Written for miracle______'s 2009 Halloween fic contest, originally posted here. 3rd place winner.
___
Whenever Jongwoon’s sad, or depressed, or lonely, he allows his thoughts to drift back to the days when he was in high school, when he first got to know a boy named Kim Ryeowook, a small, beautiful, quiet boy with flawless skin and perfect cheekbones and the voice of an angel.
Only, Ryeowook never even realized he was alive, because Ryeowook was the singing star of the school, a musical genius, while Jongwoon was simply known as the weird, creepy geek whom everyone should avoid.
During his four years of high school, Jongwoon never spoke to Ryeowook once, but he knew everything there was to know about him. He followed him around campus, followed him to his home; sometimes he’d sit outside his house, staring up at the window of Ryeowook’s bedroom, watching his shadow as he moved around in it. He’d listen outside the music room when he practiced singing and piano, peek into his classrooms, sit near him during lunch, near enough to see him smile and hear him laugh. Ryeowook never noticed him, because he was, after all, Kim Jongwoon, the weird loner who never spoke to anyone.
So Jongwoon’s never spoken to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook’s never known him, and they went their separate ways after graduating from high school, but Jongwoon gathered from the bits and pieces he’d picked up from overhearing conversations - he’s good at that, seeing as how it’s the only way he ever gets information since no one ever talks to him - that Ryeowook went on to study music in New York while he, on the other hand, went to a third-class university to study computing.
Nevertheless, whenever the quiet of his apartment threatens to suffocate him, or when hours spent in front of a computer screen is making his head pound, or when Jongwoon is overwhelmed by the silence and loneliness and needs a voice or a presence or something, anything, he conjures up his memories of Ryeowook, what he remembers from watching on the sidelines for four years: Ryeowook on the piano, Ryeowook singing in the school auditorium, Ryeowook eating lunch, Ryeowook walking and smiling, Ryeowook Ryeowook Ryeowook.
It always makes him feel better afterwards.
When he thinks about it, Ryeowook’s the first person he ever fell in love with, and six years may have passed since then, but he’s never fallen out of love, and no one has ever measured up to Ryeowook.
___
Jongwoon first gets the idea when he’s having dinner with Kyuhyun, on one of the rare few times he ventures out of his apartment.
Kyuhyun’s probably the only friend Jongwoon has, someone he met at university when the both of them were taking a computing math course and ended up being in the same project group together. Jongwoon doesn’t know why Kyuhyun bothered talking to him then when no one else did, and still continues to do so even though they’ve already graduated for a couple of years. He tries to tell himself it’s because Kyuhyun genuinely likes being around him, weird and silent as he can be, but sometimes when he happens to look into Kyuhyun’s eyes he catches that glint of pity there. Most times he ignores it. Sometimes he can’t.
This is one of those times when he sees that look, and Kyuhyun’s not exactly bothering to hide it, so he can’t choose to avoid it.
“So… you haven’t gone out for what, a month? Two?” Kyuhyun’s asking, with the look. Jongwoon hates it. So he isn’t Mr. Popular like Kyuhyun is, Kyuhyun who has a different girl hanging off his arm every month and the high-paying, high-flying job as a computer analyst in some global bank. It doesn’t mean Kyuhyun can be condescending towards him. He jabs his chopsticks furiously into his bowl of rice, stuffing his mouth as full as possible so he doesn’t have to reply, looking studiously downwards so he doesn’t have to see Kyuhyun’s face.
Kyuhyun waits a couple of seconds for him to answer, then lets out a sigh. “You know, hyung, you should try to go out more. Meet more people. It’s unhealthy to be cooped up in that apartment of yours all the time. Look, I met this babe the other day, she has the hottest body this side of Seoul. I could set you two up for a meeting, what do you - “
“No,” Jongwoon manages to say through his mouthful of rice, and means it. Why would he want one of Kyuhyun’s cast-offs? And anyway, no one he’s ever seen, male or female, compares to Ryeowook, beautiful, sweet Ryeowook who went out of his life six years ago and never came back.
“You always say that,” Kyuhyun grumbles. “Hey, hyung, you know what, you need to get out there, have sex, at least. If you don’t use that piece of equipment enough, it’s going to rot and fall off.”
Jongwoon chokes. “I do use it,” he says hotly, bits of rice dropping out of his mouth as he speaks; Kyuhyun winces, and Jongwoon looks down again, cursing himself for agreeing to meet Kyuhyun, when it never makes him feel good.
Kyuhyun’s eyes widen. “You do? With whom?”
“Ryeowook,” Jongwoon says without thinking, mind distracted by the times he had, well, used it on Ryeowook (albeit in his imagination only). He’s angry now, too, because Kyuhyun has no right to pry in his private life, and he doesn’t know why he allows Kyuhyun to do this all the time, and he’s had enough of Kyuhyun flaunting his sexual prowess in front of him each and every time they meet and sneering at him.
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun gasps. “You - you know someone? I mean, you have a girlfriend?”
Jongwoon looks up at Kyuhyun and sees how stunned he is, how his mouth is open wide in shock, and he realizes that he’s never seen Kyuhyun looking at him this way before, ever. It’s a nice feeling, he thinks; it feels empowering somehow. And suddenly he’s seized with a need to put Kyuhyun in his place.
“Ryeowook, that’s my boyfriend,” he repeats, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. He relishes it - why has he never realized before that lying is so gratifying, especially as the pity in Kyuhyun’s eyes is slowly dimming? “Yeah, I’m gay. You have a problem with that?”
“No,” Kyuhyun replies immediately, shaking his head. “No, of course not. Look, hyung, I’m happy you’ve found someone, but when did this happen?”
So Jongwoon tells him. And he tells him more, making everything up as he goes along, feeling better and better with each lie that falls from his lips, taking satisfaction in Kyuhyun’s obvious admiration.
It’s when they finally say goodbye (Kyuhyun gets the bill, like he always does, but for once Jongwoon is grinning at him and not feeling like a loser), that Kyuhyun says something which sticks in his head.
“Hyung, it’s good you finally have someone. Imagining that you’re fucking someone is completely different from actually fucking someone, you know what I mean? I’m surprised your right hand hasn’t broken by now, all these years you’ve been alone.” And he’s off, with a lascivious grin and a wink, but Jongwoon can’t get his words out of his mind.
___
When Jongwoon gets home, the first thing he does is sit down in front of his computer and search for a particular website he’s read about before. Kyuhyun’s words are ringing in his ears and they sting despite the earlier glow he’d felt at seeing Kyuhyun’s awe, because that’s all he’s been doing - imagining.
It’s not like he’s a virgin; he’s had a couple of whores before. He’d bought one because the boy had high cheekbones and pretty rosebud lips and in the dim light of his apartment, with his eyes half-closed, he could almost imagine the boy was Ryeowook. The second one, he’d bought because he was small and slender and there was something in the way his hips swung as he walked that reminded him of Ryeowook. Each time he went back to them, that was all he had in mind: Ryeowook. But they weren’t Ryeowook, never could be, and he’d tired of them eventually.
Besides, his imagination provides more pleasure than anyone that isn’t Ryeowook ever can.
But Kyuhyun’s words remind him that imagination isn’t everything, but Jongwoon doesn’t have Ryeowook, doesn’t even know where he is or what he’s doing, so now he has to find the next best thing - make a Ryeowook for himself, as this website he’s staring at promises.
He sends in several photographs of Ryeowook, several he’d taken surreptitiously all those years ago, showing Ryeowook’s face close up, some taken from the back, some taken full-length, displaying every angle of his body. The website guarantees his money back if he isn’t satisfied with how his item looks, so he pays willingly, despite the fact that it eats up at least half of his savings.
Making a Ryeowook isn’t cheap, but Jongwoon hopes it’ll be worth it when it’s finally delivered to him.
___
The doll’s delivered to his doorstep two months later, carefully wrapped in a padding of velvet and Styrofoam.
It takes Jongwoon’s breath away when he tears away the layers and exposes it, because there’s Ryeowook right in front of him, from the silken hair (real human hair, the website promised), to the soft skin that warms up as he rubs his hands over it (made of a lifelike heat-retaining silicone, said the website), and the features are Ryeowook through and through, the long lashes framing glassy brown eyes and the limbs long and slender (made to your every specification, from height to weight, the website boasted).
It’s beautiful, Jongwoon thinks, almost as beautiful as the real Ryeowook.
___
The first time he uses the doll, Jongwoon’s nervous as hell.
This is pathetic, he thinks, as he carefully arranges the doll on his bed and pulls its legs apart. Now I’m reduced to fucking a stupid silicone doll. Thanks, Kyuhyun, for being such an asshole.
His hands are still shaking as he runs them across the inner thighs of the doll, but the cold material is magically warming under his touch, so he can almost imagine it’s Ryeowook, skin getting flushed with heat and want, and his nervousness drops away bit by bit.
It’s different, so different from the real people he’s had sex with, cold and impersonal and lifeless, because the doll doesn’t respond, doesn’t make any sound, doesn’t move. And yet, as he looks down at its face, with its sweet soft lips and delicate sharp cheekbones, the way the light glinting off the glass eyes making it seem as if the doll is actually blinking and looking straight back at him, he swears it’s Ryeowook underneath him, and the part-lifelikeness, part-surrealism of the whole situation makes him even more lightheaded and more sensitive than usual.
When he comes, he gasps Ryeowook’s name out loud, fingers laced together with the warm ones of the doll.
___
After that first time, it gets easier and easier for Jongwoon to use the doll.
He doesn’t even mind so much that it’s limp and pliant; that’s how he imagines innocent little Ryeowook, as he knew him back in high school, to be like, and he’s careful with it, sometimes wrapping it up in warm blankets first to heat it up before using it, arranging it in various poses so he doesn’t get bored.
He likes the doll more than any whore he’s ever had, he thinks, because it’s soft and sweet and untouched by anyone but him, just like Ryeowook should have been. It looks more like Ryeowook than anyone he’s ever been with, and sometimes he kisses it, closing his eyes and feeling the lips dip under the pressure of his own.
It’s everything he’s ever imagined Ryeowook to be.
___
On one of the nights he’s using the doll - Jongwoon’s losing count already; he never goes out, and he spends all his time with it anyway - he comes with a shudder and a cry of Ryeowook’s name, hands gripping the slender hips of the doll, and as he rolls off it, exhausted, he sees the doll’s eyes follow him, and the corners of its lips tilt upwards in a smile.
He sits bolt upright, shocked and a little scared, and bends over it, but its expression is as frozen as before, the eyes and mouth unmoving, and he relaxes.
___
He soon finds himself falling into the habit of talking to the doll. After the initial awkwardness at talking to an inanimate object, Jongwoon begins to do it quite naturally. It starts off with bits and pieces, snippets of the thoughts running through his mind - Jongwoon’s quite used to talking aloud anyway, having been alone for years and hearing no other voice but his own - and then it grows to become more. More words, more conversations, and over it all the delight at finally finding companionship, real or imagined.
It comforts him, and now, the loneliness doesn’t seem as suffocating as it used to be, because he has his very own Ryeowook. And this Ryeowook is always patient, and quiet, and always listens to all his problems and worries. It makes Jongwoon feel, for the first time in his life, that he’s not alone.
___
“Hyung?”
“Kyuhyun? Why are you calling?”
Jongwoon’s frustrated; he’s working on a website, and the coding is driving him insane, not to mention that it’s taking out precious time that he should be spending with the doll - Ryeowook - which is currently placed in a chair next to him, so he can turn and look at it when he tires of the screen, drinking in the delicate curves of every feature.
“Just calling to see how you’re doing, hyung. I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you been out at all? Or have you been cooping yourself up again?”
“Of - of course I have gone out,” Jongwoon says. It’s not a lie, he rationalizes; quick trips to the convenience store to stock up on ramyeon count as going out, don’t they? And besides, he can’t bear to leave Ryeowook alone too long.
“How’s Ryeowook? Are you still with him?”
This time, Jongwoon smiles, staring at the doll. “Yes, of course, he’s right here now, in fact.”
Kyuhyun’s chuckle is deep and knowing. “Well, uh - in that case, won’t bother you then, hyung. Let’s meet up for some drinks soon, when your toy boy isn’t keeping you too busy. Or, you know, bring him along.”
Jongwoon keeps smiling. “Sure,” he says, and when he hangs up he turns to the doll, heaving an exaggerated sigh.
“Sorry, Ryeowook, that was Kyuhyun. I’ve told you about him before, haven’t I? He’s a brat, but he’s my only friend. Well, my only friend, except you, of course. But you’re more than just a friend to me, obviously. But he’s such an irritant sometimes, I think if he ever saw you he’d bother you, and I don’t want him to - “
It’s okay.
Jongwoon’s head snaps up and he stares at the doll, which is as silent and unmoving as ever, hands placed demurely in its lap.
“What?” he says out loud, but the doll doesn’t answer.
He blinks several times and turns back to the computer screen, but not before seeing, from the corner of his eye, the doll’s lips curve up into a smile, though when he swings his head back, there’s nothing there.
“You little tease,” he growls, pushing himself away from the desk and towards the doll. “Why are you always like this?”
He reaches out for it - for Ryeowook, and as he does, he thinks he hears a small laugh, high-pitched and clear as a glass bell. It makes him smile as he presses his lips to Ryeowook’s, hands running familiarly across the small body.
___
Jongwoon’s dressing Ryeowook up in brand-new clothes that he bought for him, tenderly pushing the arms through the sleeves and buttoning the shirt up, and pulling the pants up the legs.
“What do you think? Nice, huh?” he asks, grinning, propping his limp figure up against the headboard of the bed.
He looks downwards then, smoothing out the material of the pants, and he glimpses Ryeowook nodding and smiling at him. His heart swells with pride and happiness, and he hurries to get his camera. He climbs into bed next to Ryeowook, putting an arm around him and pulling him close so they’re pressed cheek to cheek.
“Smile,” he instructs, and snaps a photo of the both of them, but when he looks at the image, Ryeowook isn’t smiling.
“Hey,” he says indignantly. “I told you to smile. Let’s try that again, okay?”
He snaps picture after picture, over and over again, but Ryeowook never smiles in any of them.
“I don’t get it,” he says softly, putting the camera aside and staring at him. “Are you unhappy about something?”
He blinks, and at that moment he catches Ryeowook shaking his head and smiling, and Jongwoon feels relieved because of course Ryeowook is happy with him, and if he doesn’t like smiling for the camera Jongwoon’s not going to force him.
___
Kyuhyun calls again a few weeks later and urges him to go out, and despite his misgivings, Jongwoon does so, giving Ryeowook a peck on the lips and a promise to be back early.
When he finally makes it back, stumbling through the door about 3 hours after the time he’d told Ryeowook he’d return, his heart turns cold, because Ryeowook’s sitting in the exact same place he’d left him in before, and there’s no smile on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, moving quickly over to cradle Ryeowook in his arms. “I’m sorry, Ryeowook, I know you waited up for me, I - “
Ryeowook flops limply in his arms as he lifts him up and carries him to the bed, folding him under the blankets before slipping in next to him. Jongwoon almost has tears in his eyes, because Ryeowook’s never been so cold to him before, and that means he’s really angry.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, kissing him. Ryeowook doesn’t respond, doesn’t even smile, and it tears Jongwoon apart.
___
"What do you want for breakfast today, Ryeowook-ah?" Jongwoon asks, forcing himself to sound cheerful, as he rummages in his refridgerator. He pulls out several packets of something, he can’t tell what, but the smell’s driving him crazy and he figures he'd left them in too long - they’re practically black by now. Gingerly holding them by two fingers, he strides past the table where Ryeowook’s sitting and dumps them in the garbage disposal, then washes his hands.
Ryeowook’s still silent, and Jongwoon frowns. He walks up to him and kneels next to him, taking his hands and rubbing them. They’re cold and limp, and Jongwoon presses one to his cheek before kissing the fingers.
"I said I was sorry about yesterday, baby," he says quietly. "Please, don't be mad at me anymore? I love you."
Ryeowook remains unmoving, and Jongwoon looks up into his beautiful face. He stares back at Jongwoon, but he still doesn’t respond.
"I'm sorry," he tries again. "I love you, Ryeowook. Please, talk to me? Don't be angry."
There’s a long pause - Jongwoon keeps rubbing Ryeowook's hands, feeling them warm up under his touch - and then suddenly Ryeowook smiles at him, just a small one, but Jongwoon feels all the tension and fear drain out of him at it.
I'm not mad, Jongwoon, Ryeowook says softly. Just don't do it again, okay?
"I won't, I promise I won't," Jongwoon says, getting back up and cupping Ryeowook's face, giving him a quick kiss. "You feel so cold all over, Ryeowook," he murmurs against his lips, which are indeed surprisingly cold. "I'll go get you a sweater, then I'll make us breakfast.”
He feels Ryeowook squeeze his hand, the hand that’s still holding him. It's okay, I'm fine. It makes Jongwoon’s heart leap at how sweet and forgiving he is, and he swears and promises that he will never go out with Kyuhyun ever again, no matter how much coercion Kyuhyun applies. Ryeowook needs him much, much more.
Ryeowook only responds with a small smile, which makes Jongwoon happy enough. Ryeowook doesn’t talk much anyway, but that’s okay, because the Ryeowook that Jongwoon knew in high school never did, either.
___
Jongwoon’s cuddling Ryeowook in his arms, warm and drowsy in post-orgasmic bliss, when there’s an insistent ringing of the doorbell, which shocks him. He never gets visitors, except for door-to-door salesmen, but what salesman will come by at past 10 at night?
With a reassuring peck on Ryeowook’s cheek and a warning for him to stay still, he slides out of bed and pulls on a pair of shorts, before pulling the blankets back over Ryeowook and heading to the front door. He gets an even bigger shock, though, when he looks through the peephole, because it’s Kyuhyun standing out there, frowning and looking worried.
He opens the door, gaping. “Kyuhyun? What are you doing here?”
“Hyung!” Kyuhyun bursts out. “What’s going on? I was worried about you!”
“About me?” Jongwoon asks dazedly as he steps backwards, and Kyuhyun enters after him.
“I’ve been calling and calling, hyung. You haven’t answered your phone in two months. I thought you were dead!” he says, distress etched all over his face.
“I’m not dead!” Jongwoon retorts. “I’ve just been - been busy.” He falters, thinking of all the times his phone had started buzzing, and he’d ignored it, because he didn’t want to make Ryeowook angry again.
“Busy for two whole months?” Kyuhyun says disbelievingly.
“Yeah. Well, it’s Ryeowook. He likes me with him, so…”
Kyuhyun’s eyes light up. “Ryeowook’s with you now?”
“Yeah, he lives with me.”
“Well, introduce us, hyung! And for God’s sake, why are both of you cooping yourselves up? I thought you were weird enough, but it appears you found someone just as weird and willing to stay holed up in here with you. What are the odds of - “
Kyuhyun trails off here, because Jongwoon’s just reached the door of his bedroom and motioned Kyuhyun in, while calling softly, “Ryeowook-ah, it’s Kyuhyun, my friend. Remember him?”
He turns to Kyuhyun, shrugging apologetically. “Ryeowook’s kind of shy, sorry. He never talks much. He doesn’t even move much, silly boy, he just waits for me to move him around and he just follows, he - Kyuhyun, what’s wrong?”
Kyuhyun’s face is white as he stares at Ryeowook on the bed, and Jongwoon feels the first prickling of fear at the look on his face - a look of fear, horror, disgust, and disbelief all at once. He looks from Kyuhyun to Ryeowook, who’s staring back at the both of them and looking completely blank, and it starts to terrify him.
“What’s wrong? Kyuhyun? Ryeowook?”
There’s a long pause before Kyuhyun finally speaks, his voice hoarse and shaky. “Hyung, is that - is that Ryeowook?” He points at Ryeowook, his hand trembling, and Jongwoon’s eyes follow it, wondering what’s happening to Kyuhyun.
“Yes, of course.”
“That’s your boyfriend? Ryeowook? The one who you told me you’ve been spending time with all this while?”
“Yeah,” Jongwoon says, confused. “Hey, Kyuhyun, why are you - “
“Hyung, that’s a fucking doll, it’s not fucking real, what’s wrong with you, hyung?”
Jongwoon freezes; he feels the skin on his face turn cold, and it almost feels like glass when he moves his mouth to speak. “Kyuhyun, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”
“That’s not your boyfriend,” Kyuhyun spits out. “That’s a doll, a stupid doll, look at it, hyung, have you gone insane?”
“Don’t talk about Ryeowook like that,” Jongwoon whispers, his voice low and dangerous. He can feel Ryeowook’s eyes on them, and it kills him, because Ryeowook is hearing everything Kyuhyun says, and how must he be feeling?
“No, hyung, snap out of it, stop talking like it’s real because it’s not, it’s a doll, a doll - “
Jongwoon doesn’t even realize he’s moved, but he must have, because the next second there’s a crushing pain in his knuckles as his clenched fist collides with Kyuhyun’s jaw and sends him spinning to the ground.
“I said, don’t talk about Ryeowook like that,” he growls, as Kyuhyun gets back to his feet, spitting blood out from the corner of his mouth, glaring at him, his face now completely furious instead of fearful.
“You’re insane. You’re fucking insane.”
“You barge into my house and call Ryeowook names and I’m the insane one?” Jongwoon yells.
“Wake up!” Kyuhyun shouts back, and this time it’s Kyuhyun’s fist to his cheek, making him reel and stumble, and Kyuhyun grabs him back by the shoulders and begins shaking him, hitting him, again and again, and Jongwoon’s so stunned that he can’t react to defend himself.
“Wake up, you idiot, look at it, look at yourself, it’s not real!” Kyuhyun keeps crying, but Jongwoon’s head is dizzy now and black spots are appearing in front of his eyes.
The last thing he sees before he passes out are tears in Kyuhyun’s eyes, eyes that glimmer with pity for him, and behind him, Ryeowook in the bed, staring at him without a single smile on his face or a flicker of change in his expression.
___
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Kyuhyun asks.
The psychiatrist shakes his head. “Unfortunately, we think Jongwoon-sshi was left alone for far too long. Obsessive personalities like his, coupled with lack of social contact, makes it extremely easy for him to create a fantasy life like what he did, once he fixates on an idea.”
“There must be something, anything. Medication?”
“What we’re trying with him now is cognitive and behavioural therapy, and he’s on tranquilizers and antidepressants, because he’s extremely depressed. His dependency on that doll was intense, and it’s rather hard to put him through therapy. It’s going to take time, lots of time.”
Kyuhyun nods silently, absorbing the information. “Can I see him?”
“Yes, of course,” the doctor says, rising to his feet; Kyuhyun follows. “But he gets violent occasionally, so we had to put him in a padded cell for now. We’ll move him to a normal ward once his condition improves. It’d be good if he gets visitors then; interaction with the outside world may assist in his recovery.”
The doctor leads him out of his office and down several long corridors, finally stopping in front of a door. There’s a single small window set at eye-level, and Kyuhyun hesitates, looking at the doctor.
“I’m sorry, Kyuhyun-sshi, but in the meantime, you’ll have to observe him like this.”
Kyuhyun nods and steps up to the window, looking through it. The cell is tiny and square and grey, and Jongwoon is seated on the small bed against one wall. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his arms are curled around them, and he’s staring at nothing, though his lips keep moving.
It takes Kyuhyun a while to read what he’s saying from his lip movements: Ryeowook, I love you, Ryeowook, Ryeowook, I love you, Ryeowook.
And Kyuhyun feels like screaming, but he bites his lip, and all that comes out is a single tear from the corner of his eye, which he brushes away.