Title: DNA
Characters: Donghae, OC
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 4.138
Summary:
A/N: I wrote something. A whole 4k of words. Without any RP background, just off the top of my head. I am so grateful that my writer's block seems to be fading a little, it's been forever since I wrote anything. And I even quite like this one, even if plenty of people will probably be wanting to strangle me for it. :D
- - - - -
Beneath the layers of individuality, we are all a little lost on our own. There's but few of us that successfully manage to build up something on their own but aside from them we're all sheep, horses, wolves. We're not necessarily vulnerable on our own, not all of us, but we need to have others around just to feel safer, regardless of whether that is a realistic feeling. It is in our blood, it is our instinct. But what most of us don't know is that it is also carved into our DNA, and only those with the most alike patterns will truly find a connection with each other. Yet some of us are doomed to screw up, others are just too stubborn to accept that their match is not who they want it to be and some are matched much deeper than just by their DNA.
Donghae opened his eyes with the umpteenth groan of that morning, reaching out and finally managing to completely turn off his alarm clock instead of simply pressing the snooze button. He couldn't even remember why the thing was on on a Saturday morning in the first few moments of stretching, until his appointment with his psychiatrist came back to mind. But he should really start calling her by her name now. This was an outing among friends, after all, no longer business related. He was classified to be completely sane in the head and as far as he was concerned, that wasn't going to change anymore. He'd had his fair share of psychologists, psychiatrists and all those other psy-ists. They were going to celebrate that with tea and breakfast, or well, he was having coffee, but he wasn't going to say no to breakfast.
Rolling out of bed, he picked his shirt from the ground in the process, pulling it over his head and stumbling on to his wardrobe to get a change of boxers and a pair of pants. He'd brush his teeth but he didn't want his food to have the side-taste of toothpaste and she'd seen him in worse conditions than that, really. So he just took a breath mint and promised himself to brush his teeth extra well that evening. Not even fifteen minutes after waking up, he closed the door of his one-person apartment behind him and set off to meet his new friend.
Twenty to eight had Kibum waking up with a start, feeling like he was forgetting something, like he had to be somewhere. But even after double-checking his agenda twice in his head and actually getting up to look at the calendar, there was nothing to remember. Since he was up already anyway, he went to get himself some breakfast, pouring cereal into a bowl and turning on the radio on his way to getting the milk. The song was interrupted right at that moment for a special notice about a big accident and he already knew he'd be getting a call from his boss soon enough to go check it out with Cleo and get a story on it asap. He sighed, leaving the milk for what it was and shuffling back to his room to get dressed. Not even the weekend got him free time. Perks of being a journalist, they called it.
The world seemed to come apart right in front of Kyujin when the first part of the fire escape went down. The asphalt split apart with the force of the collision and she was only right in time with turning the wheel and braking like a maniac to keep from crashing right into anything. But of course that was anything in front of her. In no time she flew right into her seatbelt, her breath being cut short for a moment as her body tried to recover from the shock. Seconds later the next car crashed into the one behind her and from there on the trembling seemed unlimited. She looked around frantically the moment she could lift her head again and noticed in relief that the present on the passenger seat was still in one piece. It was the last thought to go through her head before her mind slipped out of consciousness.
Nine am had long passed by the time Donghae decided to pick up his phone and give his psychiatrist a call. The number was still on his speed-dial so all he had to do was press the number three and call. He was sent to voicemail after the maximum amount of rings and for a moment his heart dropped to his stomach. She always picked up her phone, always. Yet before that seed of fear could bloom into an actual worry, his phone buzzed and the familiar name appeared on his screen. Picking up the call, he brought it to his ear with a quick 'hey.'
“Donghae, I'm SO sorry!” her voice instantly reached him. “There's been a huge car accident on the way and I totally forgot to call you in the ruckus.”
“What? Are you okay? Should I come fetch you?”
“No, I'm fine. I arrived at the scene shortly after it happened and I've been helping out since. I'm so sorry for not calling you. I won't make it today, sorry, I want to stick around until I'm sure everyone is... What?” Her voice distanced from the phone a little and he could hear a male voice talking in the background after. “No I don't know any details. Instead of fishing for a front page article you'd better help get these people out of their cars for god's sake. Donghae?” Her voice sounded closer to the phone again and he couldn't help smiling as he signalled he was still on the line. “Look I'm really sorry. I suggest you have breakfast and go home after, okay? We'll get a raincheck on this celebration.”
He smiled a little wider, nodded at his phone and only then seemed to realise that there had been a major accident. “Is it bad over there? Where is it exactly? Maybe I should come over to help?” he therefore suggested, causing a silence to settle on the other end of the line.
“I think it's better you don't come by, Donghae. It's pretty major, several cars crashed into each other unable to brake on time. So far everyone we got out was still alive but we're still making our way to the front car.” She sighed then. “Look, I have to go. It's probably all over the news already so ask them to turn on the TV, alright? I'll give you a call later today to settle a new date for breakfast. Take care!”
With that the line went dead and Donghae sighed lightly ahead of himself before asking the waitress if they could turn on the TV to see if there was any news on the car accident. It didn't take long for images of crashed cars and dazed people to fill up the screen, everyone's attention turning to the TV once the majority of the accident became obvious.
But what apparently only Donghae could see was that the woman being carried out of the first car's wreck opened her eyes shortly and stared straight at him through the camera.
“How is the subject?”
“He's responding as expected. The accident was not part of our setting but she managed to keep him out. We think we found his DNA match, though. She was unconscious but woke up for a moment just to stare into the camera and he saw her.”
“Her?”
“Yes I am just as surprised as you but it's a woman. Name Kyujin, aged 23, she works as an interior designer and was on her way to her sister's house to bring a present for her nephew's birthday.”
“She's in the hospital now?”
“Yes.”
“Have him called over for a check-up. We'll see if he finds her again.”
Breathing out another deep sigh, Donghae closed the taxi door behind him and looked up at the hospital entrance. A normal check-up, his doctor had called it. To make sure everything was healed as it should be. Free of charge because it was just out of doctor Choi's own concern that he'd requested for it. Donghae wasn't going to decline such a humane offer, especially not with the way the doctor's voice had trembled a little near the end of his explanation.
But regardless of his reasons for coming being totally innocent this time, Donghae still didn't like hospitals. There was a certain memory connected to them which he was sure he'd pushed far, far away to the back of his mind because he never did quite remember it. He just kept feeling like he should get the hell out every time he was in a hospital. Gathering all his self control, he pushed open the door and walked inside, going over to the reception to get himself announced to doctor Choi.
Kyujin opened her eyes slowly, letting her vision focus and breathing out a soft sigh, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted them to rub at her face. There were no bandages, no oxygen masks or anything. She was merely connected to a heart monitor - oh and apparently to an IV drip as well. Sighing lightly she let her eyes go through the room. To her left in the second bed, someone was apparently still sleeping. On the little table next to her bed stood a vase with flowers and behind it, she recognised after a moment, the present she had been on her way to deliver. With a start she shot up into a sitting position. Her world was spinning for a moment before everything settled back to normal and she instantly reached out to press the bell that would call a nurse over.
“Did they see each other?”
“No eye contact but he went well out of his normal route to Mister Choi and passed by her door. He even paused for a moment to look at the room number but then her nurse came out and asked him where he had to be so he left.”
“What about her?”
“Frantic, but aside from that completely stable. She might have caught a glimpse of him this time, not confirmed.”
“Alright, keep an eye on both of them; let's see what they do in the future without our help. This looks promising, though, we might get him out of there.”
“Everything seems to be in order, Mister Lee. You are even healthier than last time I saw you here. Have you been working out?”
Donghae grinned at the implication the doctor was making, allowing himself a short nod before pulling on his shirt again. “Didn't like the idea of a blubbering stomach as much as I thought I would. The mind's been better too so the body follows I guess?” He smiled lightly as he turned to look at the doctor, Siwon Choi, who was busy checking out the results on his computer screen.
“So it seems,” he did manage to reply, glancing up for a moment and showing Donghae a slight grin. “The results are all looking really good, Mister Lee. I suggest you keep this up.” Smiling a little wider, he clicked something away and got up from his chair. “I hopefully won't see you soon then.”
Donghae grinned back at that comment, taking the hand offered to him and giving it a quick shake. “Hopefully not, indeed. Thank you for this check-up, doctor.” he replied loosely, slipping on his jacket and nodding once before leaving the room. He really didn't like hospitals. The faster he got out of there the better.
One night in the hospital and they’d pronounced Kyujin healthy enough to leave. She wasn’t allowed to do anything like driving or working for the coming week but at least she was allowed to go home, or well, go live with her sister so there would be people around in case she didn’t feel too well after all. It’s not like she minded too much; her sister had a guest room, the kids were adorable and she still owed her nephew that present anyway. They all probably got a big scare because of her right on his birthday, the poor thing.
So there she was on her way to her sister’s house, looking outside of the taxi’s window and watching the people walking past. With the traffic light being a pain it wasn’t hard to follow them for a while and even catch up with them again after a while. But it was a young man that caught her eye, walking down the sidewalk with ease, not hurried by anything at all like most of the others appeared to be. He looked up for a moment and she caught his eye through the window, but the light got green again right then and he was out of sight soon enough.
Donghae’s apartment was a bit of a mess, he had to admit. Having been out most of the previous days to find a job – or maybe just something to keep busy with – he hadn’t spent much time cleaning up after himself. Not that it really mattered, clothes weren’t exactly things that attracted rats and his list of visitors had been as good as blank for the past few months, but still he was aware of the mess like an itch at the side of his mind that he just had to scratch. So that afternoon, after his doctor’s visit, he gathered all the clothes that lay sprawled on the ground and stuffed them into the washing machine. Only when they were all dried, folded and put back into his wardrobe nicely did the annoying sensation of having forgotten something subside a little and he could make himself some dinner in peace.
“He’s back.”
“What do you mean he’s back?”
“We found the subject awake at three fifty-five in the morning, talking to nothing in the kitchen. We cannot see him so the subject doesn’t believe it fully yet himself, but he’s coming back.”
“I thought we would have more time.”
“Well, time is gaining on us. We should get them introduced somehow. Link him to her as good as we can before we run out of it altogether.”
“Hey Donghae, it’s me. Look, that breakfast, why don’t we do it today? If you get up late make it a brunch or a late lunch, it all works for me today. Let me know when you’re up so we can see what time to meet where, alright?”
The first and only message on his answering machine since as long as he could remember. Probably since he bought the thing, it was fairly new after all – if one was allowed to call a year old new. He smiled lightly upon hearing the familiar voice of his psychiatrist – she would probably always remain that to him – and checked the time. Nine thirty, still early enough for breakfast if he got dressed now. Walking back to his room, he picked up his phone and started texting a reply to see if she was available. Ten minutes later he was out the door with a place and time to meet his psychiatrist.
Kyujin sighed deeply, pulling her jacket over her shoulders and grabbing her keys on the way outside. Three days since she got out of the hospital and here she was heading out to grab breakfast all by herself. She had promised to go by foot and take the big roads so there would always be people around. Her phone had her sister’s number on speed dial now and she was told to call at the slightest feeling of dizziness or weakness. But at least she was allowed to go out and she could get her usual Wednesday morning pancakes with syrup at the local Jerseys.
What she didn’t expect was for a strikingly handsome young man to take a seat at a table a bit ahead of her. He looked at her for a moment before a woman went to sit opposite of him and their eye contact was cut short. Huffing slightly to herself – of course all the handsome guys were either taken or gay – she picked up her cutlery and started on her pancakes. It was nice to have her usual food in the usual place. Well, the usual kind of place, since the Jerseys she usually went to was halfway across the city, a lot closer to her own home. But it felt good to do something normal after the whole accident, especially with all the crap her insurance had been giving her.
She got up when she finished, leaving the right amount of money and a tip for the waitress. In no time she had gathered her jacket and bag, moving over to the door. She passed by the young man and his girlfriend, surprisingly catching his eyes. They exchanged a smile and she almost lingered to say something, but then she remembered the woman across from him and all she did was turn her eyes back to the front, leaving the shop and letting them to their romantic breakfast.
Donghae got home at about five that evening, the breakfast having turned into a walk around the park, then a late lunch and eventually a run to the department store since he still needed a few groceries for the rest of the week. He hummed a catchy melody as he unlocked the door and walked inside, kicking his shoes out in the little hallway and leaving his keys on the hook. Once he walked into the living room, he smiled lightly and nodded as he carried the groceries to the kitchen. “Hey, you had a good day?”
He put the plastic bags down on the kitchen counter before walking back to the door and leaning against the doorpost so he could get a glimpse of his housemate hanging on the couch. Hyukjae smiled back at him lazily. “Was good, the kids learned well today, not even one complained. Junghyun even pulled off a move meant for the next lesson,” the reply came. “You enjoyed your breakfast? Seems a bit late to come back from that, right?” The grin that followed was playful and Donghae could only grin back.
“Ah, Hyukkie, I was just so hungry, it took me nearly ten hours to feel sated,” he replied lightly. “But I bought you some crackers for dinner, don’t worry.” Hyukjae laughed at that and he joined in lightly, turning around to go unpack and store away the groceries. Music soon started to sound up from the living room and for some reason he felt that if he’d go look, he’d find Hyukjae on his feet, trying out some new dance moves, trying to put together a choreography.
“Status update, Mister Kim.”
“The apartment has two bedrooms now. Subject is talking during the day as well. We still can’t see him but the resemblance is getting more obvious.”
“What about the DNA match?”
“Encountered, but no conversation happened between them. We’re losing the line, Mister Park. Maybe we should just let her tell the subject the truth.”
“I don’t know, it might be too risky. We can’t afford to lose him.”
“You’re the one making the decisions, Mister Park.”
Closing the door of her own apartment behind her, Kyujin felt the first real smile appear on her face since she’d left the hospital. She put her bags down and looked around, letting out a deep, content sigh before walking further into the house. Everything still looked exactly as she remembered it, even the half-filled bowl of cereal she’d left on the kitchen counter Saturday morning. Her smile turned a bit sour upon seeing that, realising that the milk would probably be quite the same by now; sour. She smiled lightly, stretching once and looking around the house before deciding she wanted to go out now that no one would want to keep a constant eye on her.
“Come on, Hyukjae, get your fat ass out of this apartment once in a while without having to go to work. You’re inside with your music and your sketchbook day after day. Let’s go out, let’s see the world, let’s see the flowers. It’s spring for a reason you know!?” Donghae exclaimed exasperatedly, punching Hyukjae in the shoulder. It took a few more nudges and the threat of not making dinner for him that night for the other to get up and set for his shoes, making Donghae grin in victory.
In no time they were out on the streets, looking at the other people hurrying past and chatting lightly about nothing in particular. Hyukjae was obviously glad to be outside and Donghae made use of that by teasing him about it for a while. They ended up laughing and messing about on their way. Donghae couldn't remember the last time he felt that light.
When they reached the park, he started pointing out all the beautiful flowers he'd said Hyukjae should look at and they ran over the grass like two rebellious ten year olds. It was fun, there was laughter and eventually they fell down onto a bench tiredly. That's when he spotted her; the girl from Jerseys, the one he'd been looking at whenever the conversation didn't require him to look at his psychiatrist. He turned to Hyukjae to tell him about her but as his head was turning, everything started going dark and the world slipped from between his fingers.
“Emergency. We're losing him. No heartbeat anymore. Get him back.”
“Two hundred thirty volts. Clear.”
“Again.”
“Clear.”
“Update, Mister Kim. How did we lose him?”
“Mister Park, ahh.. Subject went to the park, then the DNA match was spotted. Subject turned to his side and he appeared. He's fully back; we'll have to start over regardless.”
“Again... Well we can only try. How is Haejung taking it?”
“I think as long as we can get his heart to beat she'll be fine eventually. I don't know how many more times she can go in and convince the subject that he's not real, though.”
“Clear... We got him! Stay with us Donghae. We're not through with you yet. Goddamnit.”
Donghae opened his eyes a little before closing them again. He blinked a few times like that but then managed to open his eyes completely. As he looked around, he realised he was in a hospital, or at least that's what it looked like the most. Letting out a soft groan, he turned to look at the bedside table, only to find someone sitting on a chair next to the bed, smiling at him lightly.
“Where am I?” he instantly asked. “What happened, where is Hyukjae?” He paused a moment before adding: “Who are you?” The woman’s smile lessened and she shrugged a little to herself as if trying to get over something. But then the smile became brighter and she focused on him again.
“My name is Kim Haejung. I am your psychiatrist. You're in the Seoul city hospital. As to what happened... There is no Hyukjae, Donghae. He lives only in your mind. We got you completely patched up but yesterday you collapsed in the park, blanked out and it seems we're back at the start.” For a moment the world seemed to pause but then Donghae closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
Mister Park watched the events on the screen with a sad hint to his expression, following Haejung's explanation of what had so-called happened. Once the subject closed his eyes, Mister Park turned away and looked through the sound proof window instead. He watched the young man lying lifelessly in the bed with Haejung on the table next to him, both connected to the machine that turned their brainwaves into the images he'd just been looking at. With no one else around, the business-like attitude seemed to fall off of him like a drape pulled away and agony settled in the lines of his face easily.
“Donghae-ah...” he muttered at the lifeless form in the bed. “Why can't you just accept that he's no longer alive and that you have a DNA match perfectly capable of making you happy? Why do you want to stay with him so badly?” Breathing out a deep sigh, Mister Park turned away from the image, only to stop short upon seeing Mister Kim paused in the doorpost. He smiled sadly at the other for a moment before nodding.
“Kibum-ah.” he acknowledged the younger man by name for the first time. “Let's get back to work then, shall we?
They both settled in their chairs in front of the big screen, waiting for their 'subject' to drop back into his unconscious consciousness.
Saturday, 4 August 2012
Monday, 11 June 2012
[FIC] He doesn't know
Title: He doesn't know
Characters: Zhou Mi, Donghae
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 977
Summary: Zhou Mi just doesn’t know why it hurts this much.
A/N: A little roleplay-inspired piece of writing based on the current state of mind of my dearly beloved Mimi that I wrote because he needs to face what bad of a shape he's really in.
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He doesn’t know what went wrong, or when it started to go wrong. He doesn’t know how he could’ve foreseen this somehow, or how he could’ve maybe stopped it from happening. He doesn’t know why or how or when. All he knows is that one morning he woke up and he had known – somehow – that something was wrong. The empty closets proved him right. Emptiness where there used to be clothes, shoes, personal belongings. Donghae had disappeared from his life exactly the way he had appeared into it: suddenly. But he doesn’t really know anymore how to function properly without him now.
Before he had been alone; living by himself in an apartment in London, doing what he had to do to get through the day. He’d been fine with that. It wasn’t a perfect life but it was just fine for him. He didn’t need all the stuff in his life that other people loved to fill theirs with. He had a few friends to meet up with once in a while but not those you’d talk to about everything going on. Just friends, people to have fun with, shop with when he felt like it and just some faces to look at or voices to listen to when he felt a need for it.
And then Donghae appeared, randomly walking up to him, introducing himself and asking him if he wanted to go for a walk. Definitely the most open way he’d ever been spoken to and the least used ice breaker ever. But he said yes, smiled and laughed with the boy, talked about random things. They reached his apartment building after a while and for some reason he managed to convince Donghae to piggyback him up to the seventh floor.
It must have been quite the sight. Donghae was almost two heads smaller than him after all. He’d have done it the other way around but one had to be realistic; he hardly made it up those stairs alive with his shopping bags, let alone carrying another person. Donghae made it easily, however. They reached his apartment door, where Donghae had put him down and he had invited the other in. For a drink, he said. They ended up sitting on the couch talking with no drink whatsoever, about nothing much in particular. But Donghae smelled nice and he somehow couldn’t stop thinking about that even when they started kissing.
Donghae had gone home that night, but it had been the last time. He moved into Zhou Mi’s life and apartment all at once, settling himself between the dinner appointments into the couch. It was very easy to adapt to the other’s presence in his life. Even though they slept in one bed, they never had really gone past kissing, his insecurities being the main reason for that. But it had not been a problem. They strangely seemed to fit together even though their personalities were far from matching.
It was Donghae who was the first person to get him drunk – one glass sufficed for that – and Donghae who he had been feeling up in the middle of the bar. Donghae whom he had fallen against drunkenly in the taxi, and Donghae whom he’d given sloppy kisses all the way while being carried upstairs. It was Donghae he ended up undressing that night – and who undressed him – and Donghae who’d been his first on everything that happened after that. Even for the kissing, really, but he’d rather not confess to that.
It was Donghae he came home to every evening, Donghae he smelled on his blankets, Donghae he made dinner for, Donghae who promised him forever, loved him, indulged him.. It was Donghae who found him in a hospital back home in China even though no one had known to contact him after the car accident and Donghae who brought him back to their apartment safely afterwards. It was Donghae he bought a hyperactive puppy for which they called Bit and Donghae who breathed against his skin every night in the cosy warmth of his bed. It was a good life.
But things got busier and Donghae had to leave for several days here and there for work. Surprisingly it worked for Zhou Mi. He managed to cope just fine even though he’s actually a clingy person and very impossible with people leaving him. He went out with some of his friends, focused a little more on his work and Donghae always ended up returning before he could miss him. Even when the trips became longer and more often, he was fine with it. He was fine with his life, cherishing the weekends he could spend with Donghae and easily dealing with the time he couldn’t.
They were fine, they were used to that way of living and despite time passing, they still felt the same way. He was certain of that, is still certain of that, so he really doesn’t get why all of a sudden the closets are empty, Bit is gone and all the memories are left with him alone. It’s like Donghae has never existed and he’s the only one with the strange idea that once there really was a person living with him, sleeping with him, loving him.
But he’s convinced that there’s a good explanation for that, that Donghae just had to go somewhere and will come back soon with proper explanation. Or without, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Donghae will come back because he promised he would never leave and that’s a promise he won’t ever break. And Donghae loves him so it will all be fine. Zhou Mi just doesn’t know why it hurts this much then. He doesn’t know why he’s getting drunk daily, or why the memories of Donghae and him seem to be laughing him straight in the face.
Characters: Zhou Mi, Donghae
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 977
Summary: Zhou Mi just doesn’t know why it hurts this much.
A/N: A little roleplay-inspired piece of writing based on the current state of mind of my dearly beloved Mimi that I wrote because he needs to face what bad of a shape he's really in.
- - - - -
He doesn’t know what went wrong, or when it started to go wrong. He doesn’t know how he could’ve foreseen this somehow, or how he could’ve maybe stopped it from happening. He doesn’t know why or how or when. All he knows is that one morning he woke up and he had known – somehow – that something was wrong. The empty closets proved him right. Emptiness where there used to be clothes, shoes, personal belongings. Donghae had disappeared from his life exactly the way he had appeared into it: suddenly. But he doesn’t really know anymore how to function properly without him now.
Before he had been alone; living by himself in an apartment in London, doing what he had to do to get through the day. He’d been fine with that. It wasn’t a perfect life but it was just fine for him. He didn’t need all the stuff in his life that other people loved to fill theirs with. He had a few friends to meet up with once in a while but not those you’d talk to about everything going on. Just friends, people to have fun with, shop with when he felt like it and just some faces to look at or voices to listen to when he felt a need for it.
And then Donghae appeared, randomly walking up to him, introducing himself and asking him if he wanted to go for a walk. Definitely the most open way he’d ever been spoken to and the least used ice breaker ever. But he said yes, smiled and laughed with the boy, talked about random things. They reached his apartment building after a while and for some reason he managed to convince Donghae to piggyback him up to the seventh floor.
It must have been quite the sight. Donghae was almost two heads smaller than him after all. He’d have done it the other way around but one had to be realistic; he hardly made it up those stairs alive with his shopping bags, let alone carrying another person. Donghae made it easily, however. They reached his apartment door, where Donghae had put him down and he had invited the other in. For a drink, he said. They ended up sitting on the couch talking with no drink whatsoever, about nothing much in particular. But Donghae smelled nice and he somehow couldn’t stop thinking about that even when they started kissing.
Donghae had gone home that night, but it had been the last time. He moved into Zhou Mi’s life and apartment all at once, settling himself between the dinner appointments into the couch. It was very easy to adapt to the other’s presence in his life. Even though they slept in one bed, they never had really gone past kissing, his insecurities being the main reason for that. But it had not been a problem. They strangely seemed to fit together even though their personalities were far from matching.
It was Donghae who was the first person to get him drunk – one glass sufficed for that – and Donghae who he had been feeling up in the middle of the bar. Donghae whom he had fallen against drunkenly in the taxi, and Donghae whom he’d given sloppy kisses all the way while being carried upstairs. It was Donghae he ended up undressing that night – and who undressed him – and Donghae who’d been his first on everything that happened after that. Even for the kissing, really, but he’d rather not confess to that.
It was Donghae he came home to every evening, Donghae he smelled on his blankets, Donghae he made dinner for, Donghae who promised him forever, loved him, indulged him.. It was Donghae who found him in a hospital back home in China even though no one had known to contact him after the car accident and Donghae who brought him back to their apartment safely afterwards. It was Donghae he bought a hyperactive puppy for which they called Bit and Donghae who breathed against his skin every night in the cosy warmth of his bed. It was a good life.
But things got busier and Donghae had to leave for several days here and there for work. Surprisingly it worked for Zhou Mi. He managed to cope just fine even though he’s actually a clingy person and very impossible with people leaving him. He went out with some of his friends, focused a little more on his work and Donghae always ended up returning before he could miss him. Even when the trips became longer and more often, he was fine with it. He was fine with his life, cherishing the weekends he could spend with Donghae and easily dealing with the time he couldn’t.
They were fine, they were used to that way of living and despite time passing, they still felt the same way. He was certain of that, is still certain of that, so he really doesn’t get why all of a sudden the closets are empty, Bit is gone and all the memories are left with him alone. It’s like Donghae has never existed and he’s the only one with the strange idea that once there really was a person living with him, sleeping with him, loving him.
But he’s convinced that there’s a good explanation for that, that Donghae just had to go somewhere and will come back soon with proper explanation. Or without, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Donghae will come back because he promised he would never leave and that’s a promise he won’t ever break. And Donghae loves him so it will all be fine. Zhou Mi just doesn’t know why it hurts this much then. He doesn’t know why he’s getting drunk daily, or why the memories of Donghae and him seem to be laughing him straight in the face.
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
[FIC] Occasionally
Title: Occasionally
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 803
Summary: Occasionally I think of you and what we used to be.
A/N: Spur of the moment writing that flew out in one go, no additional comments to make~
- - - - -
Occasionally, in between my footprints in the moist sand, I think of you and of how it was when times were better, when days were less lonely and nights less cold. I remember how we used to be when we curled up together in a bed, on the couch, arms wrapped around body and limbs, limbs wrapped around whatever they could fit around. It was effortless, it was void of all hurt and pain and anything that might make our days less bright. I remember the feeling of belonging I got sometimes when I looked into your eyes and pretended that nothing else existed outside of you and me, outside of us.
Occasionally I think back to those days and the way you smiled at me and told me we would never end. Oh how I believed you, how I listened to your words and believed that yes, we could really win over anything that might stand against us. It wasn’t entirely true, but that’s okay now. I’m no longer bitter, I no longer cry over things that are impossible to change. But the sun disappearing into the water still reminds me of your smile and how it lit up every single one of my days and I hope now that you found as much joy in those particular days as I did. Because it would be a waste if I was the only one to have felt that way. It would be silly to want you back, we are long gone, but the way the sand spills through my toes when I lift my feet reminds me of how we’d end up in the shower after long walks on the beach and all of a sudden the shower seems too big for just me, even though we could barely fit in with the two of us.
Sometimes when I go to bed, I still feel the urge to roll over to the other side so I can put my hand on your chest and cuddle up against your side, but there’s nothing there anymore and that’s okay, it just leaves my heart a little bit lonelier. But that’s alright too, because I have my memories and they are as precious to me as you once were, probably, since they are all I have left of you now. It makes me a little sad thinking about that time but I’m walking on an empty beach with my hand holding on to an umbrella instead of another hand so I think I am permitted to feel a little sad occasionally.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to say but maybe the words that spill out of my mind are things I’ve always wanted to tell you; that I miss you but that’s okay because it meant you were something precious that I would’ve kept if the opportunity had been there to do so. All in all I just hope that you’re doing fine now too and when maybe one day you think back of me, you’ll be smiling just like I am right now and maybe your eyes may feel a little moist but that’s okay, because we walked a long road together and occasionally that path can be remembered and treasured. There’s just no need for us to turn around and run back to it, because walking the same road a second time is always different and somehow disappointing. The first time is always more interesting than all of the others, just like our first kiss was such an adventure while all the ones after that just came naturally. It’s like that with all things in life, isn’t it? The trick is to just find those things that keep making you happy even though they’re no longer your first times.
I admit that it’s lonely to think of you when you’re no longer around, when no one is around to remind me of why it’s not bad now, why it’s at least just as good. I’m glad that I had you for the time I had you just like I’m glad that I now have this beach and the sun and my dog. He’s biting at the sea water trying to catch the foam, a little bit like how I’m grasping at the past trying to catch a glimpse of you in my mind. And perhaps my mind does not remember you as clearly anymore, but that’s okay too, because my heart has every detail graved into its core. That is why I will be able to go home, clean my feet of the sand and go on with life, because I know that whenever I feel like it, occasionally, my heart will willingly provide me with these memories again so that I can smile over our shared days and your silly face.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 803
Summary: Occasionally I think of you and what we used to be.
A/N: Spur of the moment writing that flew out in one go, no additional comments to make~
- - - - -
Occasionally, in between my footprints in the moist sand, I think of you and of how it was when times were better, when days were less lonely and nights less cold. I remember how we used to be when we curled up together in a bed, on the couch, arms wrapped around body and limbs, limbs wrapped around whatever they could fit around. It was effortless, it was void of all hurt and pain and anything that might make our days less bright. I remember the feeling of belonging I got sometimes when I looked into your eyes and pretended that nothing else existed outside of you and me, outside of us.
Occasionally I think back to those days and the way you smiled at me and told me we would never end. Oh how I believed you, how I listened to your words and believed that yes, we could really win over anything that might stand against us. It wasn’t entirely true, but that’s okay now. I’m no longer bitter, I no longer cry over things that are impossible to change. But the sun disappearing into the water still reminds me of your smile and how it lit up every single one of my days and I hope now that you found as much joy in those particular days as I did. Because it would be a waste if I was the only one to have felt that way. It would be silly to want you back, we are long gone, but the way the sand spills through my toes when I lift my feet reminds me of how we’d end up in the shower after long walks on the beach and all of a sudden the shower seems too big for just me, even though we could barely fit in with the two of us.
Sometimes when I go to bed, I still feel the urge to roll over to the other side so I can put my hand on your chest and cuddle up against your side, but there’s nothing there anymore and that’s okay, it just leaves my heart a little bit lonelier. But that’s alright too, because I have my memories and they are as precious to me as you once were, probably, since they are all I have left of you now. It makes me a little sad thinking about that time but I’m walking on an empty beach with my hand holding on to an umbrella instead of another hand so I think I am permitted to feel a little sad occasionally.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to say but maybe the words that spill out of my mind are things I’ve always wanted to tell you; that I miss you but that’s okay because it meant you were something precious that I would’ve kept if the opportunity had been there to do so. All in all I just hope that you’re doing fine now too and when maybe one day you think back of me, you’ll be smiling just like I am right now and maybe your eyes may feel a little moist but that’s okay, because we walked a long road together and occasionally that path can be remembered and treasured. There’s just no need for us to turn around and run back to it, because walking the same road a second time is always different and somehow disappointing. The first time is always more interesting than all of the others, just like our first kiss was such an adventure while all the ones after that just came naturally. It’s like that with all things in life, isn’t it? The trick is to just find those things that keep making you happy even though they’re no longer your first times.
I admit that it’s lonely to think of you when you’re no longer around, when no one is around to remind me of why it’s not bad now, why it’s at least just as good. I’m glad that I had you for the time I had you just like I’m glad that I now have this beach and the sun and my dog. He’s biting at the sea water trying to catch the foam, a little bit like how I’m grasping at the past trying to catch a glimpse of you in my mind. And perhaps my mind does not remember you as clearly anymore, but that’s okay too, because my heart has every detail graved into its core. That is why I will be able to go home, clean my feet of the sand and go on with life, because I know that whenever I feel like it, occasionally, my heart will willingly provide me with these memories again so that I can smile over our shared days and your silly face.
Thursday, 29 March 2012
Fic Challenge - 061; Disguises [24/100]
Title: Disguises
Characters: Yesung
Rating: G
Wordcount: 603
Summary: He's become a professional at hiding.
A/N: First thing I've written and finished in ages. I also don't know what this is supposed to mean or be but it is and that's all I can really say about it.
- - - - -
A joke, a weird face, a silly dance. Things to mask what lies beneath the surface. Things to hide what truly is inside. He uses them on a daily basis. Glasses, foundation, a longer fringe. He can’t remember the last time he went out without wondering whether others would see what he wanted them to see or if they would still be able to look past these disguises.
He doesn’t even know when it started; the insecurity. He remembers days when he was way surer of himself, when he didn’t give a damn about what others thought of him, when he was solely focused on his goal and not on everything that he might come across on his way towards that goal. Or maybe he just wishes that’s what he could remember and back then he was just as messed up as he is now. He doesn’t know. Maybe he’ll never know.
Everything is confusing and conflicting, his thoughts toppling over each other and stumbling into his memories as if at random. Sometimes he doesn’t even get himself anymore, feels so contradicted that he’s certain he’s in a dilemma where exactly half of him wants to do one thing and the other half wants to do another. What way do you go then? What do you do when the world looks like it’s going to fall down on your face if you don’t get your feet in the right direction?
Breathing out a sigh, he opens his eyes and looks at the picture in front of him again. Dark eyes almost hide beneath even darker strands of hair, a mouth pulled into a slight smile that would look genuine to him if he didn’t know better. The hands are in the picture too; small in comparison to the head. There’s a bunch of hands at the bottom of the picture, all stretched out to the singing person, to him, but he doesn’t care about them.
Maybe it started with the comments. Maybe it started when the cameras never filmed him for a good month straight before finally showing one single shot where he was in too. Maybe it’s just a thing that happens when you grow up and you start to realise that the world isn’t as nice of a place as you had always thought it was. When innocence fades and reality finally gets a chance to kick in all your doors and drag the monsters from under your bed to stick them right next to you underneath the blanket.
The reflection in the computer screen shows him his own bitter smile and he almost growls at it, until he remembers where he is and that there’s people trying to sleep in his near vicinity. Letting out a soft sigh instead, he reaches out and presses a finger against the screen, pushing up one corner of his mouth in his reflection and moving it up for real too. He does the same to the other corner until his smile is back to the perfectly rehearsed cuteness he had learned it should be.
It’s the best way to make everyone believe he is fine, to make them look past the little details that show otherwise. Smiling has always kept people from asking those questions he does not want to answer and in return they all smile back at him, making their own day brighter as well. Smiling is easy; it takes fewer muscles than getting out of bed or speaking. Smiling enables him to say nothing at all yet convince everyone that the world is a great place.
Smiling is the perfect disguise.
Characters: Yesung
Rating: G
Wordcount: 603
Summary: He's become a professional at hiding.
A/N: First thing I've written and finished in ages. I also don't know what this is supposed to mean or be but it is and that's all I can really say about it.
- - - - -
A joke, a weird face, a silly dance. Things to mask what lies beneath the surface. Things to hide what truly is inside. He uses them on a daily basis. Glasses, foundation, a longer fringe. He can’t remember the last time he went out without wondering whether others would see what he wanted them to see or if they would still be able to look past these disguises.
He doesn’t even know when it started; the insecurity. He remembers days when he was way surer of himself, when he didn’t give a damn about what others thought of him, when he was solely focused on his goal and not on everything that he might come across on his way towards that goal. Or maybe he just wishes that’s what he could remember and back then he was just as messed up as he is now. He doesn’t know. Maybe he’ll never know.
Everything is confusing and conflicting, his thoughts toppling over each other and stumbling into his memories as if at random. Sometimes he doesn’t even get himself anymore, feels so contradicted that he’s certain he’s in a dilemma where exactly half of him wants to do one thing and the other half wants to do another. What way do you go then? What do you do when the world looks like it’s going to fall down on your face if you don’t get your feet in the right direction?
Breathing out a sigh, he opens his eyes and looks at the picture in front of him again. Dark eyes almost hide beneath even darker strands of hair, a mouth pulled into a slight smile that would look genuine to him if he didn’t know better. The hands are in the picture too; small in comparison to the head. There’s a bunch of hands at the bottom of the picture, all stretched out to the singing person, to him, but he doesn’t care about them.
Maybe it started with the comments. Maybe it started when the cameras never filmed him for a good month straight before finally showing one single shot where he was in too. Maybe it’s just a thing that happens when you grow up and you start to realise that the world isn’t as nice of a place as you had always thought it was. When innocence fades and reality finally gets a chance to kick in all your doors and drag the monsters from under your bed to stick them right next to you underneath the blanket.
The reflection in the computer screen shows him his own bitter smile and he almost growls at it, until he remembers where he is and that there’s people trying to sleep in his near vicinity. Letting out a soft sigh instead, he reaches out and presses a finger against the screen, pushing up one corner of his mouth in his reflection and moving it up for real too. He does the same to the other corner until his smile is back to the perfectly rehearsed cuteness he had learned it should be.
It’s the best way to make everyone believe he is fine, to make them look past the little details that show otherwise. Smiling has always kept people from asking those questions he does not want to answer and in return they all smile back at him, making their own day brighter as well. Smiling is easy; it takes fewer muscles than getting out of bed or speaking. Smiling enables him to say nothing at all yet convince everyone that the world is a great place.
Smiling is the perfect disguise.
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
[FIC] 365 Days
Title: 365 Days
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 998
Summary: There's 365 days in a year but it takes only one to make a difference.
A/N: I don't know what to explain for this one. Started this a long time ago, probably with an idea, but that idea never made it to paper (document). This is the bleak end result of a shadow of that idea. Still, this lies very close to my heart. I don't know why.
- - - - -
“I don’t know why you’re hurting yourself so much over this, Sheila,” my mother tells me. The words sound harsh to my ears, the implied meaning obvious to me. I’m doing something that she doesn’t approve of and she wants me to tell her why. She wants me to give her explanations that will make sense to her but I don’t have any of those. I only have explanations that make sense to me and I’ve learned over the years that those are not sufficient for others.
Everyone always needs reasons they can fit into their view on the world. If something goes against their idea of how things turn then it’s not right. If my reasons don’t cooperate with how they think the human mind works then it’s not a proper reason. No one ever seems to consider that maybe someone else’s mind doesn’t work the same way theirs does.
“It’s not that hard to live, you know. It starts with getting up from that chair, walking out of that door and doing something other than sitting here.” I shake my head, not because I disagree that that’s the start, but because I don’t want to do that. Because I can’t just do that. Because it’s not that easy. “I don’t get it, Sheila, I really don’t. What are you afraid of,” she asks with an exasperated sigh and for a short moment it feels like she does get it.
~*~
“What are you afraid of?” He asked once, trying to get to know me better, trying to figure out what went on in my mind. Back then I said I was afraid of the dark. Now.. Now everything changed.
Now I am afraid of being alone. Not really alone in person, but being lonely. Yet I always am. I crave for someone to hold me. It’s been too long since I’ve been hugged by someone and felt completely safe. There is no one who can make me feel safe. I’ve lost trust in the promises of good and better from others, and I myself stopped making such futile promises long ago. I think too much, doubt too much. I ponder over useless things, yet in the end they all seem so important to me.
I don't know why I care so much. I shut people out because I don't feel like they care. I shut people out because I know they can't help me and I would only be a burden to them. It's better not to let them know. It's better not to give them the burden of my pain.
That’s how I work, how I feel. I make things harder for myself, make things worse than they are because I don’t know anymore what it feels like to be fine, what it feels like to be happy. I let the positive things pass by and turn into memories before I really notice they were positive.
Maybe not everything changed. Maybe I’m still afraid of the dark. Only the dark is now inside of me.
~*~
“It’s been years.” It’s what Matthew usually tells me. He reaches out a hand to me this time as if to help me up when I’m actually already standing. I take the hand, send him a smile, let him know it’s appreciated but never actually respond to those words. We both know it doesn’t matter how many years have passed, nor does it matter how many more will pass, it’ll probably always hurt this much when people touch the subject.
Ever since he died, life doesn’t seem enough anymore to hold my feelings. This world is so small, so insignificant. We are all but little dots on a blank paper. We are all great in our own minds, but we are not great for real. What do we have left when life takes away those things we love most? I feel like I only now understand the real significance of what I’ve lost.
“There’s going to be a lot more years after this,” Matthew adds and I nod at him, a certain understanding settling between us as we start walking home, silence having settled between us for the umpteenth time.
~*~
Only I myself have witnessed the countless tears I cried over losing him. The countless tears I cried over everything. Maybe other people don’t need others to be strong, but I do. I have never been alone. None of us can be truly alone. We all need to have something or someone to keep us going. Something or someone to keep us sane. Some find that strength in themselves. Some don’t. People all have a different way of feeling well. My way is to know someone is there for me.
I need him to keep me sane. I feel like I’m losing myself. Losing myself to the dark in my mind.
~*~
Usually on Sundays I take a bus to the cemetery and sit down on a bench near his grave. I take out my iPod, plug in my earphones and lose myself in the world. I pick Sundays because it’s the only day where no one else seems to go there. It surprises me since Sunday is the only free day I really have in my week. Or maybe people do come but I’m just so lost in thoughts of him that I don’t even notice them.
Exactly one hour after arriving, I always start crying. Exactly ten minutes later, Lisa sits down next to me and wraps me in a hug. It’s a yearlong habit and we’re both already used to it. For some reason she is the only person who manages to make my tears stop and for those few minutes that she holds me on the bench in the cemetery I am convinced that I’m not alone. The feeling disappears again the moment we walk out of the gates again.
~*~
I don’t want to live because it hurts to do so without him.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 998
Summary: There's 365 days in a year but it takes only one to make a difference.
A/N: I don't know what to explain for this one. Started this a long time ago, probably with an idea, but that idea never made it to paper (document). This is the bleak end result of a shadow of that idea. Still, this lies very close to my heart. I don't know why.
- - - - -
“I don’t know why you’re hurting yourself so much over this, Sheila,” my mother tells me. The words sound harsh to my ears, the implied meaning obvious to me. I’m doing something that she doesn’t approve of and she wants me to tell her why. She wants me to give her explanations that will make sense to her but I don’t have any of those. I only have explanations that make sense to me and I’ve learned over the years that those are not sufficient for others.
Everyone always needs reasons they can fit into their view on the world. If something goes against their idea of how things turn then it’s not right. If my reasons don’t cooperate with how they think the human mind works then it’s not a proper reason. No one ever seems to consider that maybe someone else’s mind doesn’t work the same way theirs does.
“It’s not that hard to live, you know. It starts with getting up from that chair, walking out of that door and doing something other than sitting here.” I shake my head, not because I disagree that that’s the start, but because I don’t want to do that. Because I can’t just do that. Because it’s not that easy. “I don’t get it, Sheila, I really don’t. What are you afraid of,” she asks with an exasperated sigh and for a short moment it feels like she does get it.
~*~
“What are you afraid of?” He asked once, trying to get to know me better, trying to figure out what went on in my mind. Back then I said I was afraid of the dark. Now.. Now everything changed.
Now I am afraid of being alone. Not really alone in person, but being lonely. Yet I always am. I crave for someone to hold me. It’s been too long since I’ve been hugged by someone and felt completely safe. There is no one who can make me feel safe. I’ve lost trust in the promises of good and better from others, and I myself stopped making such futile promises long ago. I think too much, doubt too much. I ponder over useless things, yet in the end they all seem so important to me.
I don't know why I care so much. I shut people out because I don't feel like they care. I shut people out because I know they can't help me and I would only be a burden to them. It's better not to let them know. It's better not to give them the burden of my pain.
That’s how I work, how I feel. I make things harder for myself, make things worse than they are because I don’t know anymore what it feels like to be fine, what it feels like to be happy. I let the positive things pass by and turn into memories before I really notice they were positive.
Maybe not everything changed. Maybe I’m still afraid of the dark. Only the dark is now inside of me.
~*~
“It’s been years.” It’s what Matthew usually tells me. He reaches out a hand to me this time as if to help me up when I’m actually already standing. I take the hand, send him a smile, let him know it’s appreciated but never actually respond to those words. We both know it doesn’t matter how many years have passed, nor does it matter how many more will pass, it’ll probably always hurt this much when people touch the subject.
Ever since he died, life doesn’t seem enough anymore to hold my feelings. This world is so small, so insignificant. We are all but little dots on a blank paper. We are all great in our own minds, but we are not great for real. What do we have left when life takes away those things we love most? I feel like I only now understand the real significance of what I’ve lost.
“There’s going to be a lot more years after this,” Matthew adds and I nod at him, a certain understanding settling between us as we start walking home, silence having settled between us for the umpteenth time.
~*~
Only I myself have witnessed the countless tears I cried over losing him. The countless tears I cried over everything. Maybe other people don’t need others to be strong, but I do. I have never been alone. None of us can be truly alone. We all need to have something or someone to keep us going. Something or someone to keep us sane. Some find that strength in themselves. Some don’t. People all have a different way of feeling well. My way is to know someone is there for me.
I need him to keep me sane. I feel like I’m losing myself. Losing myself to the dark in my mind.
~*~
Usually on Sundays I take a bus to the cemetery and sit down on a bench near his grave. I take out my iPod, plug in my earphones and lose myself in the world. I pick Sundays because it’s the only day where no one else seems to go there. It surprises me since Sunday is the only free day I really have in my week. Or maybe people do come but I’m just so lost in thoughts of him that I don’t even notice them.
Exactly one hour after arriving, I always start crying. Exactly ten minutes later, Lisa sits down next to me and wraps me in a hug. It’s a yearlong habit and we’re both already used to it. For some reason she is the only person who manages to make my tears stop and for those few minutes that she holds me on the bench in the cemetery I am convinced that I’m not alone. The feeling disappears again the moment we walk out of the gates again.
~*~
I don’t want to live because it hurts to do so without him.
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