Title: Acceptance
Characters: Hankyung/Kibum
Rating: G
Wordcount: 1.179
Summary: It's four in the morning, but that doesn't keep him from calling.
A/N: Started two days before posting, finished on paper because I write better then.
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He curses a few very dirty swearing words and almost throws his alarm clock off his night table in his struggle to find the ringing phone lying around somewhere on the thing. When his fingers finally touch the cold metal, he quickly grabs the phone and brings it closer to his face, squinting his eyes as he tries to see who’s calling. The number is set private, however, so he just presses the green button and puts the phone next to his ear, letting out another heartfelt curse as he does so.
“This better be important or you’ll be dead meat once I get up at a decent hour.” he grumbles into the receiver, intend on skinning the caller alive if he or she is calling for no reason at all. There’s a short silence on the other side, and he immediately suspects the person to just be playing a prank on him, but right before he can hang up again, someone finally speaks.
“Hyung..” It sounds, rather soft and it’s said in such a vulnerable way that the next insult dies in his throat, halfway getting out of his mouth. The voice is strangely familiar, but he can’t put a finger on it the first few seconds. It is when there’s a soft intake of breath on the other side that he suddenly realises who he’s talking to. He sits up in surprise and lets his mind repeat the one word spoken by the familiar voice over and over.
“Kibum..” he says, not really believing himself that it’s really his silent Korean friend, even though it’s unmistakeable. His thoughts drift back to the last time he talked to the guy and he realises that was a long time ago. Way too long, really, but what could either of them do about that? It had been out of both their hands -the decision to keep in contact or not- and with Kibum going back to the US for a while, calling had become an expensive joke anyway. Yet here he is, on the phone with Kibum, who he hasn’t talked to for months.
“I had to call you during the night.” the younger suddenly speaks, seemingly wanting to erase the bad mood, trying to apologise for waking him up without really apologising. “To make sure no one would know, to make sure it wouldn’t get you in trouble.” There is a short silence in which Hangeng tries hard to find the words to say ‘it’s okay’ and Kibum understands even with nothing but silence, because it’s Kibum and he has never needed a lot of words.
“So I heard you’re not going back anymore, hyung.” he then continues on a more casual note, obviously dismissing the previous subject of the conversation. There’s a slight crackle on the line that tells Hangeng the two of them are really far apart. He swallows, but knows there’s no denying this fact. After all; he IS never going to go back. Not to Super Junior and not to Korea. He doesn’t know if it’s his stupidity or the company’s, but he lost his chance to go back the moment he got on the plane back to China.
When he opens his mouth to speak, he is surprised himself at how easily the foreign but familiar language rolls out, albeit as nothing more than a whisper. “I’m sorry.” The silence that follows would be deafening if not for the never ending crackle. Slowly he finds himself remembering how easy it has always been - lapsing into silence while talking to Kibum. But he remembers more than just that. Like the many times he would be up late with the other sleeping against his shoulder or on his lap. He remembers so many little things that he and Kibum shared without anyone else ever knowing about them -not even Heechul- and despite it being four in the morning and having been called out of bed, he is completely awake still by the time the younger speaks again.
“I know.” There are so many emotions conveyed through the younger’s voice that Hangeng feels a lump rise in his throat, making him unable to speak. There’s sadness, most of all, because Kibum knows what the apology means and knows that it’s going to take a long time to adjust, but there’s also a tad bit of happiness for the other’s wellbeing, some understanding and some love, but in the end, he figures the bunch of emotions all bend down to one thing; acceptance. He suddenly realises that Kibum already knew the answer to the unasked question, but simply wanted to hear it from Hangeng himself. At a loss of what to reply to that, he merely waits on the next topic Kibum wants to bring up. He doesn’t need to wait long.
“Heechul..”
He feels his insides clench at the mention of that name and quickly speaks before Kibum can continue. “Will do fine. He’s a grown up man. He’ll survive.” But even as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re not very true. Sure Heechul might cope, but there’s no way it’s going to happen without some many litres of alcohol involved. He closes his eyes and clenches his teeth, trying to bite the pain away. If anything, it’s going to be hard to keep his friends out of his thoughts to not feel guilty. “I trust you to take care of him, Bummie.” he then mumbles.
There’s a sigh on the other end and the silence spreads out a little longer, before Kibum’s slightly rough voice breaks through it once again. “I will. But call him, hyung. A lot.” It is then that Hangeng realises it is always the silent ones who know the most, but he doesn’t get time to express those thoughts into words as Kibum continues. “And sleep more, hyung. You sound like your still partly in dreamland.”
“Sleepy? At four thirty in the morning? How could that be?” he retorts, his voice layered with sarcasm and the obvious blame.
“What are you still doing up at this hour anyway? Go to sleep.” Kibum says, but there’s a joking tone in his voice, that sounds so light and feels so foreign to him, that he almost finds himself breaking down into tears in the middle of his bed. Yet he composes himself right in time to catch the “Goodnight” and the “Sweet dreams.” the other wishes him, and with that, the line is disconnected.
He stares at the phone in his hand until the light goes out and then he keeps staring, his mind wrapping itself around the idea that it might just as well be one of the very last conversations he’ll have with the younger one for a while. After a while, he pushes away the images of past days, happier days, and finally settles himself back onto the mattress, letting his head sink away in the feathery pillows. It was, but it isn’t anymore, and all he can do is accept that fact, because there’s no going back.
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