Waiting Game
Waiting Game | Sehun/Kai | 1.2k~ | R | What if the way we started made it something cursed from the start? What if it only gets colder?
I'm a cunning devil. Tell me, I know you want to. It won't hurt me, I already know it's true. Scream it, yell it, slap it into my face, take your nails carve it into my skin; write it in my blood on the walls, tell everyone you know, and tell them to tell everyone they know. I know you want to, so why don't you?
I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I know you're angry about that. You're livid. The discomfort it causes you seeps through your pores and envelopes me whenever we are forced to be in the same company. The set of your jaw tells me to stop talking, but I don't and, admit it, you hate it so much. Your eyes glare holes into my soul whenever they shift over in my direction, and you imagine it burning my skin, making me writhe in pain on the floor as you burn me to ashes. Your hand twitches by your hip when I pat your shoulder gently when I refer to you in my speech. You want to take it and wrap it around my throat, we both know this. But what I don't know is why you won't.
You once told me that before I inflict any pain, that I should know first what it feels like to receive it. You made sure I remembered this as you ran your fingers softly, like small feathers, across the knobs of my spine. We were lovers then: you cared about my mental state then. You kissed my shoulder with such tenderness, it felt as if a butterfly had landed there for a moment. You said that it's not fair to make others hurt in a way you have never experienced, it's unjust.
Unjust. That's the exact term you associated with unrequited pain. At first, I thought that was odd word choice, but in time I came to realize that yes, darling, unjust perfectly describes the feeling of every night whispering promises of a romantic morning and waking up in the bed alone and cold. It was unjust the way you told me you loved me, but your words were laced with deadly venom. So is it so unjust that I took your actions and I mimicked them completely?
I might have over-filled the cup of revenge a little bit, let the condensation drip down the sides of the red glass as I kept pouring more liquid into the container; but how else does one treat such hypocrisy, such treachery? I would ask you, but your opinion has no affect on me anymore. You lost that right when you overstepped the line of pain and pleasure, when you took your words of endearment and shoved them down my throat, choking me with my naïvety and false attachment.
I have to admit it, though it brings me now joy, that you are a very clever man, my friend. Tempt me, and slowly bring me into your circle of lies, gain my trust, steal my love and my wealth. It was very well planned, I commend you for that. You just skipped over one minute detail when we tied the knot of marriage and sealed the deal-made you the heir of my father's company: your friend, Baekhyun, the pretty one who made me laugh and danced with me around the floor, he called you Kai. It was a small slip, I don't think anyone noticed but me: how his tongue curled and his lips pushed up the corners slightly before his jaw pushed forward and went slack, pronouncing the one syllable name that you were previously known by. He said it quickly, but both of us heard him.
Both of us knew.
How long was your name actually Kim Jongin, Kai? Seven months? Eight? It doesn't matter now, it was enough to seduce me and get me tangled in your long-winded strings of words so that I couldn't get out without a big pair of scissors and a knife. I don't know why you weren't more thankful when I used the utensils and eliminated your slip. It was a small fragment of the ribbon that entangled me, but when I snipped it out it made the whole getup crumble to pieces and free me from the cage:-though by then it was too late because I was already brought into another by the court of law.
But that's okay, I can deal with it. It's a fun game between the two of us, you know. I enjoy it. Which one of us do you think will win? I'm very good at making small gestures to make your insides churn, while you are excellent at hurting me where my clothes will always cover. I don't want to shorten your stride, but no matter how many times you break my heart, crumble it into a powder and glue it together with hate-no matter how many times you take the part of my brain that cares and mock it with no pity; remember, sweetie, remember this detail: I actually loved you, I will not kill you.
I can give you the romantic answer to your inquiries as to why. I can fill your head with fancies about how I cannot bear to see the person I once adored's blood coating my hands as I tear the life out of their pitiful body because one cannot truly hate someone so much who they had previously thought was the whole world-or I can tell the truth, which is this: I have no idea what it feels like to manipulate someone into love and then want them to murder me so they can be blamed and I can escape this life full of horrors. You should know this best, it was originally your advice. Say it with me, now: One should not inflict pain that they have not once received-it's' unjust.
I find it amusing how one word out of your mouth can express all of the feelings in the world. Once, when you said my name, it was deep affection-it sang the sweetest song as it dripped from your tongue: Sehun. When you found me in my silk pajamas, out in the yard and burying your friend, it was utter shock-complete surprise as it tore from your throat: Sehun! Now, it means loathing-the kind of Hell that envelopes the spirit when it vibrates from your chest: Sehun- (For it is always chopped abruptly at the end, as if it makes your mouth taste of rubbish.)
As for now, buy your jewelry and prostitutes with my family's money-I couldn't care less how you spend your nightly hours. But during the day you are mine, pretty boy; I can do what I please when the sun is shining over the hemisphere we reside on. I can make you curse your very existence, regret all of your greatest mistakes when we are in polite company and you don't even know why you are so angry-you just are.
The sun is peeking over the hills now, come out of your room, honey; for we all know who the winner is-and who the winner will remain.
You will kill me in time, you just wait and see.
I'm a cunning devil. Tell me, I know you want to. It won't hurt me, I already know it's true. Scream it, yell it, slap it into my face, take your nails carve it into my skin; write it in my blood on the walls, tell everyone you know, and tell them to tell everyone they know. I know you want to, so why don't you?
I am a wolf in sheep's clothing. I know you're angry about that. You're livid. The discomfort it causes you seeps through your pores and envelopes me whenever we are forced to be in the same company. The set of your jaw tells me to stop talking, but I don't and, admit it, you hate it so much. Your eyes glare holes into my soul whenever they shift over in my direction, and you imagine it burning my skin, making me writhe in pain on the floor as you burn me to ashes. Your hand twitches by your hip when I pat your shoulder gently when I refer to you in my speech. You want to take it and wrap it around my throat, we both know this. But what I don't know is why you won't.
You once told me that before I inflict any pain, that I should know first what it feels like to receive it. You made sure I remembered this as you ran your fingers softly, like small feathers, across the knobs of my spine. We were lovers then: you cared about my mental state then. You kissed my shoulder with such tenderness, it felt as if a butterfly had landed there for a moment. You said that it's not fair to make others hurt in a way you have never experienced, it's unjust.
Unjust. That's the exact term you associated with unrequited pain. At first, I thought that was odd word choice, but in time I came to realize that yes, darling, unjust perfectly describes the feeling of every night whispering promises of a romantic morning and waking up in the bed alone and cold. It was unjust the way you told me you loved me, but your words were laced with deadly venom. So is it so unjust that I took your actions and I mimicked them completely?
I might have over-filled the cup of revenge a little bit, let the condensation drip down the sides of the red glass as I kept pouring more liquid into the container; but how else does one treat such hypocrisy, such treachery? I would ask you, but your opinion has no affect on me anymore. You lost that right when you overstepped the line of pain and pleasure, when you took your words of endearment and shoved them down my throat, choking me with my naïvety and false attachment.
I have to admit it, though it brings me now joy, that you are a very clever man, my friend. Tempt me, and slowly bring me into your circle of lies, gain my trust, steal my love and my wealth. It was very well planned, I commend you for that. You just skipped over one minute detail when we tied the knot of marriage and sealed the deal-made you the heir of my father's company: your friend, Baekhyun, the pretty one who made me laugh and danced with me around the floor, he called you Kai. It was a small slip, I don't think anyone noticed but me: how his tongue curled and his lips pushed up the corners slightly before his jaw pushed forward and went slack, pronouncing the one syllable name that you were previously known by. He said it quickly, but both of us heard him.
Both of us knew.
How long was your name actually Kim Jongin, Kai? Seven months? Eight? It doesn't matter now, it was enough to seduce me and get me tangled in your long-winded strings of words so that I couldn't get out without a big pair of scissors and a knife. I don't know why you weren't more thankful when I used the utensils and eliminated your slip. It was a small fragment of the ribbon that entangled me, but when I snipped it out it made the whole getup crumble to pieces and free me from the cage:-though by then it was too late because I was already brought into another by the court of law.
But that's okay, I can deal with it. It's a fun game between the two of us, you know. I enjoy it. Which one of us do you think will win? I'm very good at making small gestures to make your insides churn, while you are excellent at hurting me where my clothes will always cover. I don't want to shorten your stride, but no matter how many times you break my heart, crumble it into a powder and glue it together with hate-no matter how many times you take the part of my brain that cares and mock it with no pity; remember, sweetie, remember this detail: I actually loved you, I will not kill you.
I can give you the romantic answer to your inquiries as to why. I can fill your head with fancies about how I cannot bear to see the person I once adored's blood coating my hands as I tear the life out of their pitiful body because one cannot truly hate someone so much who they had previously thought was the whole world-or I can tell the truth, which is this: I have no idea what it feels like to manipulate someone into love and then want them to murder me so they can be blamed and I can escape this life full of horrors. You should know this best, it was originally your advice. Say it with me, now: One should not inflict pain that they have not once received-it's' unjust.
I find it amusing how one word out of your mouth can express all of the feelings in the world. Once, when you said my name, it was deep affection-it sang the sweetest song as it dripped from your tongue: Sehun. When you found me in my silk pajamas, out in the yard and burying your friend, it was utter shock-complete surprise as it tore from your throat: Sehun! Now, it means loathing-the kind of Hell that envelopes the spirit when it vibrates from your chest: Sehun- (For it is always chopped abruptly at the end, as if it makes your mouth taste of rubbish.)
As for now, buy your jewelry and prostitutes with my family's money-I couldn't care less how you spend your nightly hours. But during the day you are mine, pretty boy; I can do what I please when the sun is shining over the hemisphere we reside on. I can make you curse your very existence, regret all of your greatest mistakes when we are in polite company and you don't even know why you are so angry-you just are.
The sun is peeking over the hills now, come out of your room, honey; for we all know who the winner is-and who the winner will remain.
You will kill me in time, you just wait and see.