Eliah (13claps) (clap13times) wrote,
Eliah (13claps)
clap13times

{First Day; I'm ashamed.} (I/II)

First Day; I am.
Kaisoo | R | 7.5k
It is December and Kyungsoo is trying to be an asshole.
It is December and Jongin is cursing a god.

written for uberchrome I hope you will survive this vomit of angst, I promise the next part is a bit more fluffy no.



{First day; I'm ashamed.}
aka. How Do Kyungsoo keeps frames of shiny smiles on his walls.




Kyungsoo is really trying to be an asshole.

He's trying, but fails, so he's trying again until he realizes he will never manage to push Jongin away when the other boy rings him out of bed at four in the morning, with exhausted eyes and soggy clothes. “It's raining”, he says while he throws his shoes in the corner behind the door, which has already turned into their own little shelter at night. Like a dog basket for the little dachshund Kyungsoo had secretly sneaked into his childhood room when he was younger.

Kyungsoo doesn't reply, because it's obvious that the beads of water on Jongin's skin are not tears. Instead he heads for the huge drawer in the living room, where the last traces of Junmyeon's tidiness still keeps the spare blankets and takes out the thickest, heaviest. It doesn't matter though, because in the end, it will lie on the floor abandoned, stirring up the dust under Kyungsoo's bed. Jongin prefers to cover himself with the warmth of Kyungsoo's skin, and Kyungsoo lets him.

There is something incredibly stunning about the way Jongin forces himself on Kyungsoo on nights like these, reeking of alcohol and sweat because it's so contradicting to how he normally acts. It was curiosity at first, Kyungsoo thinks, and the nagging sense of responsibility that made him want to take care of the younger. Jongin's eyes were as dark and sad as the heavy rain searching for friends on the glass of the bathroom's window; aimless but so beautiful.

Sometimes, Kyungsoo lies in the crook of Jongin's neck, and he tries not to drown in the scent because he knows things like that never end well. Instead he thinks about how much Jongin has changed, how much they have changed and he wonders how much Jongin actually changed because Jongin doesn't talk with him a lot, while Kyungsoo doesn't dare to ask.

It's winter; the last day of December and the first day of Jongin's freedom.



΅΅΅



It is the summer, the first day of June and Kyungsoo hasn't known Jongin longer than a week but felt oddly comfortable with the the younger boy around. Jongin has a tendency to stare at people, which gained him the slight image of a creep around the campus, but Kyungsoo figures it's nothing to be scared about.

“I like looking at beautiful faces”, Jongin confesses. Kyungsoo thinks he could stare at Jongin's face all day long, too. After three days, he knows every curve of Jongin's face by heart.

When he's not staring, Jongin thinks a lot about unnecessary facts and considerations while Kyungsoo likes to dig in unsorted conclusions.

It's uncomfortably warm in his apartment so he opens the windows only to breath in damp and heavy city air. All they can do it hang around on the couch, drink the coolest coke they could find and watch the American crime series Jongin despise so much, yet his eyes are glued to the screen every time Horatio pulls off his sunglasses.

“It's stupid”, he says over chocolate ice cream and sweaty palms. “They call it a perfect crime, but it's just an unsolved case.”

“Where's the difference?”, Kyungsoo asks and watches Jongin's brows furrow as he tries to endure the cold sting that's crawling up the inside of his scalp. He doesn't speak until the ice on his tongue is completely melted.

“A perfect crime means there simply are no evidences, because the criminal considered every situation, every little detail in his act. Unsolved cases are crimes the authorities are too dumb to solve.” With a wink, he adds “but of course that doesn't happen on TV.” before he turns back to brain-freezing coldness on his lips.

Kyungsoo knows that Jongin isn't as positive as he let's himself seen. He's not built of self-esteem and knowing smirks, they just form the bricks for the barricade that Jongin has built around himself. But no wall stands without cement and Kyungsoo is afraid to ask.

(Between the bitter taste of beer on his tongue and Jongin's cigarette in the ashtray, Jongin mumbles against the rim of his drink “I'm terrified of the future. I think too much.”

For a moment, Jongin looks as breakable as the glass in his hand.)
΅


It is summer, the first day of July; the first day Jongin meets Oh Sehun in his modern literature class, the first day Jongin rings on Kyungsoo's doorbell and Junmyeon curses in Kyungsoo's ear while his arm tries to prevent the other from getting up. Kyungsoo shoves the human barrier away and heads to the door with naked feet squeaking against the wooden floor.

“I'm not gay.”, Jongin says when he sits on the dark blue couch with hands folded around a hot cup of tea. “I really am not gay. I had many girl friends in high school.”

Kyungsoo wants to laugh because he still remembers the first girl he slept with, but in the end, it didn't mean shit. “That doesn't mean shit.”, he says, but Jongin doesn't want to get it. Kyungsoo decides to leave Jongin's heart to do the rest of the work. He lets him rest his head on his knee and they watch reruns of cheap romance movies and Kyungsoo is half-asleep with heavy eyelids when Jongin repeats with a quiet voice, as if he is trying to assure himself, “I'm not gay.”

Kyungsoo tries not to breath.

“But he is so fucking beautiful.”

Kyungsoo tries not to breath.

Jongin doesn't speak about it the next day, never speaks about it, while his eyes shift from Kyungsoo's to Sehun's face. Kyungsoo misses the raw burn on his cheeks and finds it on Sehun's pale ones instead.

“He's in love”, Junmyeon says when Jongin leaves from their table in the middle of the campus. He speaks as if he knew what it feels like, to fall in love, and Kyungsoo suddenly remembers that Junmyeon does; remembers that he's holding Junmyeon's hand and smiles back gently with big eyes while his stomach screams in frustration.

He blames his mother instinct, because he knows it's a strong one. Caring for people is one of the only things he is really good at, and thus it isn't surprising when his gut twists every time he sees Jongin speak with Sehun. He might get hurt. Sehun will hurt him, some day. Jongin will get hurt, he has to protect him. Kyungsoo feels dumb, because he's acting like his mother who nearly refused to let him go out for his first date.

In the end, Sehun says 'yes' and it's all fine. And for some time, Kyungsoo thinks he can live with that although Jongin's smile is not shining in his direction but in Sehun's; but at least it's shining, and that's all that really matters in Kyungsoo's eyes. (He's not being honest to himself, here.)

Suddenly, Jongin talks a lot and the words stumble out of his lips in a sorted, chronologically order that sounds foreign in Kyungsoo's ears. He misses jumbled thoughts and trembling limps against glasses of beer, misses Jongin's ear pressed against his kneecap but Jongin starts to prefer night clubs over dirty bars with jukeboxes in a dark corner (; prefers Sehun over Kyungsoo).

Kyungsoo is not a dancer. Junmyeon isn't either, but he also doesn't like the smell of cigarettes and raw leather against the fabric of his jeans.



΅



It is autumn, and the melancholy of a love he doesn't think he enjoys anymore chokes Kyungsoo to the point where he leaves for the bar, drowning himself in memories of volatile moments he thought he could live with Junmyeon and butterfly kisses and even afters.

“I think a brain is like an empty room with notes and pictures glued to the walls, the floor, the ceiling. We end up ignoring some, step on some with dirty feet, and when there's no space left, we cover older ones with new ink on cleaner paper sheets.” Jongin has always been the one responsible for metaphors, but it was only when old rock charts were echoing against the wooden walls of their (former) favorite bar. “I think that's how we forget.”

Kyungsoo denies the pictures of Jongin's smile on his walls, drenched in cigarette smoke and bad air. He doesn't deny that he stepped on some of the memories he shares with Junmyeon.
΅



The first day of October and Jongin's voice is hoarse from yelling. That's all he tells Kyungsoo when he lets his knuckles hit against the thick door. (Junmyeon told him if he ever rings the doorbell again, he'll make sure Jongin has nothing to eat for the rest of the semester and one does not simply ignore Junmyeon's rare threads. Because, connections.)

“Why did you fight?”, Kyungsoo asks but Jongin opts to throw his shoes behind the door instead of answering. “They're going to block the door, Jongin.”, Kyungsoo says half-heartedly but Jongin's dark eyes and the smell of alcohol is alarming, so he steps back to let Jongin pass and sit on the couch with knees hitting against the couch table.

“Why did you fight?”, Kyungsoo asks again because the silence between them hangs heavily with hooks on his heart. Jongin breathes and leans in to Kyungsoo, who's suddenly scared of the decreasing distance because no. He shouldn't look at Jongin's lips in this dim light because no. He shouldn't be glad that Junmyeon is visiting his parents because no. He simply shouldn't consider what Jongin ends up doing.

Kyungsoo can can tell that Jongin has cried, because his lips taste of salt and beer and cigarette smoke that fogs his brain and burns in his eyes. Jongin breathes in his mouth as if he's hesitating and for a moment Kyungsoo wants to say it;

'no' because you have a boyfriend and so do I.
'no' because you are drunk and I can never trust myself when it comes to you.
'no' because we don't love each other.


But Jongin's lips are so soft and so full against his, and so different and tempting that his tongue ends up speaking for the rest of his body; a screaming, yearning yes.

Jongin pushes away restraint, borders, clothes, all the shouldn’t's in Kyungsoo's head with warm palms and trembling fingers that trace shaky lines over Kyungsoo's thighs. It's sad how desperate it is. It's thrilling how hot it is. It's tearing Kyungsoo's heart apart, because it pulls them together only to pull them apart again.

Jongin's breath is harsh against his throat and Kyungsoo looses himself in the tingle Jongin's hair against his lips, the sweaty palms pressing him to the couch, the thighs rubbing against his ass and the pure friction. It hurts, physically and mentally but Kyungsoo can't help but to enjoy it with selfish greed under the fingernails that dig into Jongin's back.

Along with greed, hope clings onto him. The kiss Junmyeon plants on his cheeks the next morning burns even more, when Kyungsoo sees Jongin walk up to Sehun in the hallway, lips formed in a broken sorry and Sehun's eyes are anything but rejecting him.

Next time, don't love, Kyungsoo tells himself with fingers between Junmyeon's. It's a waste.
΅



It is autumn, the first day of November; the temperature in Kyungsoo's apartment is different, the scene stays the same. It still hurts, it's still desperate and a bit more angry, and Jongin still doesn't speak about why his voice is husky.

When Kyungsoo feels Jongin's breath hitch beside his ear and their skins rub against each other in the cold, Kyungsoo sees the second hand of the digital clock hanging on the wall halt for a millisecond, hardly noticeably. Suddenly, all hands run forward as if their trying to catch up on time, the fitting digits for the right moment. As if things were this easy.

Kyungsoo tries not to love but ends up not loving the wrong person.
΅



It is winter; while Jongin comes and goes, Junmyeon leaves once and for all.

Sehun doesn't.

It's scary how Jongin manages to look his boyfriend in the face without regret, guilt, anything but affection.

Kyungsoo tries to talk as little as possible with both Sehun and Jongin but you don't need words for sex. At least not when it's with Jongin because he seems to prefer soft breathing and whining when he's fucking the wrong person. Sometimes, Kyungsoo wonders if Jongin is even aware of what he's doing. If he's aware that he's cheating on Sehun (it can't be called a one night stand anymore), if he's aware of what he's doing to Kyungsoo. If he's aware of the fact that he was the reason Junmyeon left.

If he knows but he's just closing his eyes out of selfishness, terrified of the future.

Kyungsoo tries to attach himself to other friends, the few he has left from high school, but fails miserably, because no one really longs for nights spent in dark bars and cigarette smoke. Well, there is Baekhyun, but with Baekhyun comes a reason not to go out with Baekhyun.

It's not that he doesn't like him – no, how could he ever hate the person to whom he owned half of his school career – but hanging with Baekhyun automatically meant hanging with Chanyeol. Now, that doesn't necessarily have to be bad because Chanyeol is nice with his toothy grin and words dipped in a smile. But combining the two of them usually ended with Kyungsoo as the third wheel on a pink tandem with a basket of rosy flowers hooked to the handlebar. And every time Baekhyun stands on is toes to snatch a kiss with warm lips, Kyungsoo feels like he's getting choked with strong fingers around his neck.

“You're dumb though”, Baekhyun says one day, with a spoon full of what Kyungsoo thinks is supposed to be omelet between his teeth. He's hesitating to eat it, because Chanyeol cooked it and the last time Chanyeol cooked Kyungsoo vomited in a toilet that was so dirty, he would have never even spared it a glance if it wasn't so damn urgent.

“Why?”, Kyungsoo asks and hands Baekhyun a glass of water to clean his mouth after forcing down the food. Baekhyun mumbles a soft thank, so quiet that Chanyeol, who's busy cracking over a variety show on TV, can't hear. Baekhyun's face cringes and he hurriedly gulps down the water.

“Well,” he starts and Kyungsoo can see that his tongue is still trying to get rid of the salty aftertaste. “You can't deny the fact that you're in love with him, and yet you let him fuck you like a boytoy.”

“I'm not denying it.”, Kyungsoo says because he doesn't. Even when he sees Chanyeol's eyes turn slightly in their direction like a sly dog, he doesn't deny his feelings, risking that Chanyeol might tell Sehun. In the end, Kyungsoo doesn't even care because it'd be a reason for Sehun to leave. Finally.

“You should tell him. You can't be angry at him for treating you like shit when he doesn't even know how you want to be treated.”

“It would change nothing. If you told Chanyeol that you hate his cooking, it still doesn't change the fact that his cooking sucks.”

“Hey.”, Chanyeol voices from the couch, hurt like a kicked puppy. Baekhyun throws him a sorry glance while Kyungsoo grabs the plate on the desk and throws it in the sink with a loud clank. “But he'd try to change”, Baekhyun says in murmurs while heading to the couch, placing a soft kiss in Chanyeol's mob of hair.

Kyungsoo tries not to breath. It's a sign to leave.

Jongin wouldn't try.

Kyungsoo thinks about it.

If Baekhyun hadn't mentioned it, Kyungsoo would have never noticed how angry he actually is at Jongin, because it simply isn't fair. Not towards Sehun, because as much as Kyungsoo dislikes him, as much as he thinks the blond is a little brat, not even the devil's pawn deserves a boyfriend who pinches the trust between fingertip until it yelps. Not towards himself, because Jongin keeps ripping the control out of Kyungsoo's hands until there is none left, keeps Kyungsoo close only to push him away again; and when he's finally on the edge of leaving, Jongin's hand reach for him again and all Kyungsoo can do is shift closer.

It's not fair, but love never really is; especially when only half of the heart longs.

“You have no shame”, Kyungsoo says on a horribly rainy day. Initiating and following are two different kind of betrayal.

“You think there is shame in love?”, Jongin whispers against the inside of Kyungsoo's palm, tracing thick and desperate patterns along the lines of his hand. For the first time, it is Kyungsoo who pushes the other one away and out of his apartment.

“You don't love, Jongin. You simply take.”

By the end of the month, Kyungsoo concludes that he prefers living with a scar to an open wound. He has to end something that hasn't even started, but the problem is, Jongin is is a tick faster; always has been.
΅



“It's over.”, Jongin says on the first day of December. There are snowflakes in Jongin's dark hair, his skin is pale in comparison to Kyungsoo's memory; but that might just be the constant lightness of the winter's breath over their bodies.

“What is over?”, Baekhyun asks over salad and fries he splits in half for Chanyeol; a mindless and probably a bit weird habit. Jongin looks at him while he sits down with a thick wall of air between his and Kyungsoo's thighs. “Sehun and me.”, he mumbles with eyes fixed on broken fries until he snatches one from Baekhyun's tray with a hunting gaze.

Baekhyun is silent. Kyungsoo tries to ignore the look he's throwing him.

Since Chanyeol is a little big kid and refuses to eat with Kyungsoo, he and Jongin end up alone at their desk. Jongin sighs every now and then, until Kyungsoo shoves his tray in front of the younger boy; he hates how well he can read Jongin's body language.

“Now we're all alone...”, Jongin mindlessly says and Kyungsoo wonders if he knows that it's basically all Jongin's fault. That Junmyeon left, because he couldn't bear how Jongin would always rank first in Kyungsoo's line of priorities. That Sehun left, for whatever reason. (Passively, he's even responsible for Chanyeol being a baby.)

“By any chance,”

Jongin's eyes have the same distant glimmer shining in them, the same undefinable aftertaste as when his voice was sore for the first encounter.

“are you in love with me?”

Chanyeol has told Sehun. Sehun has told Jongin. Kyungsoo wants to laugh at the irony, but the bitterness in Jongin's questions chokes off the air in his lungs and his brain tries to proceed the best answer. Push him away, it says. You wanted to end it, now do it. (Once and for all.)

Confessing to someone is like jumping from a plane with a parachute loosely on your back. You jump, and while the air hits you in the face you think about what happens when you hit the ground; if you will land safely or if you're knees will crash against the ground, the pain remaining for days, weeks, months – years, in some cases. Landing well can be the best feeling ever, because the free fall will turn into one of the cherished memories on your wall. But falling wrongly can destroy your limbs and life.

Kyungsoo isn't a risk-taker.

“No.” and a big burden falls of Kyungsoo's shoulders, still hooked into his bones and tugging him down even worse. Jongin's lips leaves a breathy chuckle as he mumbles “Yeah. Why would you want to get involved with anything so messy and complicated as me?”
΅΅΅



Kyungsoo is really trying to be an asshole.

As much as he hates Jongin's drenched shoes behind the door, he loves the rain. As much as he hates the dust under his bed, he loves serving as Jongin's blanket instead of soft cotton. As much as he hates to press thoughts and words under skin, he loves the silence in which their breath bathes in.

As much as he hates, he loves.

Kyungsoo stops counting the knocks on the door while Jongin stops counting kyungsoo's rips with his tongue.

(He knows them by heart by now.)

Just at the point Kyungsoo got used to Sehun's scent in Jongin's hair, it's gone. At the point Kyungsoo got used to Jongin's own scent again, Jongin starts smelling of strangers. Of sweat and salt, of alcohol and cigarettes, of carbon dioxide in drinks and sex under skin.

And all he can do is frame the memories of hours spent on couches with innocent touches and rants on TV shows. Because in the end, only one of them really changed. Jongin leaves, but the puddle of water under Jongin's shoes stays.



΅
“We're going to the club.”, Baekhyun says with determination dripping from his lips. “We're going out, and if we have to force you to come with us, I'll handcuff you personally and tug you into this god damn club.”

Kyungsoo knows that it isn't a good idea. Going to the club with him, Chanyeol and Jongin isn't a good idea.

Contradicting Baekhyun isn't either.

Their destination is set in a dark but chick basement, glam shining through the blackness with every flickering laser. And in the end, Kyungsoo thinks it can't be that bad, because they sell beer cheaper than in his favorite bar and although the music is still too loud, although there are still too many people pressing up against him he can't deny that he likes how Jongin's eyes roam over his body when a stranger speaks up to him.

Until he turns around, and focuses on the person he dances with again. Because not even the cheap alcohol running down his throat, not even the throbbing dizziness between his ears can erase the fact that it's not him. It's not him until Jongin is drunk and desperate for a body he knows, for a body he doesn't have to ask if certain things are okay.

And at this point, Kyungsoo doesn't even care anymore that Jongin approaches him two hours after they entered the club, two hours too late for his taste, because late is better than never in his eyes.

Jongin's skin is hot against his, the hem of his shirt itchy between Kyungsoo's fingertips when the drowsiness of alcohol pushes his courage and body, pushes his tongue over Jongin's lips when it's normally the other way around and pushes his palms along the hard jeans on Jongin's waist. It's as he's blind, he's loosing focus and has to guide his way through life with the last sense he's capable of trusting; but if he'd be blind, he wouldn't see the surprised look in Jongin's eyes and for a moment, Kyungsoo think he'll push him away. Because it has always been Kyungsoo who gets pushed away.

But Jongin grabs him by the collar and tugs him so close, Kyungsoo can feel his breath reflect on Jongin's sweaty neck, and for a moment they stand in complete stillness because Jongin bends down to catch Kyungsoo's mindless tongue between his lips. (Dancing and kissing at the same time doesn't always quite work out and the desperate tingle for more under closed eyelids forces them to a halt.)

Jongin's palms join Kyungsoo's as he guides them up to wipe over the sticky skin of his neck, locking them there in a desperate attempt to get closer, grab closer and feel closer. The music echoes like a tinnitus in Kyungsoo's ears when Jongin's breath ghosts over his senses with shallow breathing. They still as weird, golden plastic confetti fall from the low ceiling and Kyungsoo catches one that got tangled in the hair of Jongin's neck, moving to stuff it in the pocket of his jeans. Memories are all he's got left, anyway.

“The world belongs to those who go too far instead of go back.”, Jongin said in the days when their shirts remained on their skin while they lied on the couch. Kyungsoo thinks he finally understands it. The addicting flavor of control is sweet on one's tongue.

'I'm not a toilet-fuck' he tells himself when Jongin tugs him to the back of the club and before there's any time to react, he pushes him off between the mirror on the wall and the open door. Some pride left, so much greed for control when Jongin looks at him with irritated eyes.

“I don't want to.”, Kyungsoo says and Jongin turns to face him with slick tiles against his soles.

“Why suddenly not?”

“You only need me when something is bothering you.”

“I'm always bothered.” Jongin's eyes are dark and clear, words less alcohol slurred than Kyungsoo's own. Next time, don't think, he tells himself with fingertips pressed against his palms. It's a shame.

“I always need you.”



{First day; I'm scared.}
aka. What truly happened in the depth of Kim Jongin's heart
break me.




____
I'm sorry. that's all.
I don't even ship Kaisoo (that much), so it was rather hard to write this. I hope you forgive me and wait for the next part.

Tags: fandom:exo, pairing:kai/kyungsoo, rating:nc-17, sidepairing:baekhyun/chanyeol, sidepairing:kyungsoo/junmyeon
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