[fic] Minho/Key – SHINee – Resurgence – Chapter 7/8

[rabenhorst]

Title: Resurgence
Author: fonulyn
Rating: NC17
Warnings: infidelity
Pairing: Minho/Key
Characters: Minho, Key, OCs
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Some mistakes can’t be avoided, even when they keep repeating over and over again. The thing is, Minho doesn’t even really want to avoid falling into the same old trap. That is what makes it Minho’s biggest mistake. What makes him Minho’s biggest mistake.
Comments: I promised a speedy update so here :3 this chapter was extremely emotional for me to write. it’s one of the first scenes I planned, and one of the scenes I hope do make an impact the way I intended. here’s to hoping it works! :3



DW
Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

“Minho, please, what’s going on?” Kibum asks for maybe the sixth time after he opened the door to find Minho standing on his doorstep, eyes swollen and reddened, barely holding himself together. Exactly like before, he simply gets silenced by lips on his, by Minho’s palms urgently sliding underneath his shirt to push it up and off his form.

It’s obvious that Minho is shaken, badly so, but he also doesn’t want to talk about it and it leaves Kibum confused, helpless as he tries to figure out what to do. The insistent mouth is back on his and he finally decides to throw himself into it. If this is what Minho needs right now, this is what he will give him. Maybe later he can get Minho to calm down, finally manages to draw some answers from him. But it’s obvious it’s not happening now, not right at this instant.

He allows Minho to guide him into the bedroom, doesn’t resist as his pants are unbuttoned and follow his shirt to the floor. It feels like every single touch of Minho’s long fingers is burning on his skin, like there’s a message he’s trying to convey through every longing caress. Minho throws Kibum down on the mattress, kisses a trail up the line of his leg from the kneecap to his hipbone. It all makes Kibum shudder with the intensity, but that’s not what shakes him to the core.

What gets to him the most is how it makes him feel underneath the shallow pleasure. How it makes him feel exposed in a way he’s never been before, how it makes him vulnerable.

If it was anyone but Minho Kibum would’ve already stopped this, kicking and screaming, would’ve thrown a tantrum and covered the feeling with the sarcastic and flashy front he likes to pull up whenever convenient. He doesn’t like feeling dependent on others, much less like he’s placing himself in a position where he can be hurt.

Yet he twines his fingers into Minho’s hair and pulls him up for a slow kiss, parts his thighs and offers all of himself. It might be the stupidest thing he’s ever done, to bare his very soul for Minho with his every movement, or it could be the best decision of his life. He doesn’t know, and he doubts he’ll ever find out.

Neither of them knows how they manage to work Minho’s clothes off him but once there’s only the glorious feeling of skin on skin they stop thinking altogether. It’s like all the unspoken affection, every year of their path thus far, escalates into this very moment. The way Minho kisses is gentle, only a hint of desperation laced in it, the way he touches is like he’s trying to cherish every millisecond he’s given.

It’s exhilarating, makes Kibum feel like he’s floating already long before he’s shaking on three fingers worked knuckle deep inside of him. He has never begged, not even once and not of anyone, but that means just one more rule broken tonight. It seems like that’s exactly what Minho is waiting for as the moment he hears the shakily uttered please he withdraws his hand and takes the much needed step forward.

Kibum holds his breath as he focuses on the slide that joins their bodies, his fingers gripping Minho’s biceps so hard the skin turns white in his grip. There are droplets of sweat beading on Minho’s shoulders and chest, rolling down over his collarbone and Kibum wants to follow the trail with his lips. All he can do though is stay back and take what he’s given, especially when large hands grab his hips to lift them up higher.

One of Kibum’s legs is thrown over Minho’s shoulder, the other curled around his back with its heel digging into Minho’s spine. It keeps their bodies close with every single thrust that follows, takes the power out of the movements but leaves behind a lingering intensity neither of them can handle. Breathing gets harder for Kibum when he’s practically folded by Minho leaning closer but he doesn’t care, doesn’t even notice, not when he’s kissed in a way that seems to blow away all his worries.

They’ve come a long way from their first encounter. There’s nothing in this that would correlate with the rough burst of lust and passion, wherein now the sensations run that much deeper, weave them together into a web of emotion.

When Kibum finally finds his release he can barely distinguish the sound that tears from his own throat. It feels like it’s lingering in another world, behind a curtain that mutes everything. Seconds later he feels Minho tense against him, as they collapse into a sweaty heap of long, tangled limbs.

It’s a lot later when Minho pulls back, just enough to look at Kibum. He brushes a wet strand of hair off Kibum’s forehead and offers him a tentative smile, one that is eagerly returned. Kibum can’t help the worry, though, can’t forget the way Minho looked at him when he stood at the door begging for Kibum to let him in.

“Minho?” Kibum whispers and reaches out, places his palm on Minho’s cheek and caresses the soft skin with his thumb. “Talk to me?” His voice is laced with genuine worry and he hopes it comes across. He desperately wants to help, to make everything better.

Then, Minho breaks down.

He drops down against Kibum and buries his face in his neck, clutches him like he’s the only lifeline left in this world. It confuses Kibum even further and all he can do is wrap his arms around Minho, hold him close and rub soothing circles in his back. He lets Minho cry until the words begin to bubble out, incoherent at first but soon followed by full sentences, finally forming an explanation.

Minho talks about everything. For the first time, he confesses how he’s always wanted to have Kibum all for himself, how he wouldn’t have even gotten married if there had been only one word from Kibum to tell him not to. He talks about his wife, how she’s never talked to him or let him talk to her, how she’s shut herself into her own world right off the bat ever since the wedding day. He talks about all the things he feels are slipping through his fingers.

And finally, he talks about what brought him over the edge today. He talks about the shock when his wife collapsed, talks about the flashing lights of the ambulance, talks about the rushing nurses and busy doctors, talks about the way she shut him out once again.

Kibum swallows around the lump in his throat and says nothing as he holds the other man. He offers consolation the only way he knows, murmuring soft nothings, while Minho cries into his neck. Cries for his stillborn child.





The smell of freshly brewed coffee is the only thing keeping Minho awake and at his senses. He sits at the kitchen table, cradling the mug between his palms as he keeps staring into the black liquid. Kibum is standing only a few steps away from him, leaning against the kitchen counter as he sips from his own large mug. It would be an enjoyable, peaceful morning if it wasn’t for the fact that Minho’s head still feels like splitting open from the amount of crying.

Kibum clears his throat, nodding towards the bottle of painkillers he set next to Minho’s coffee. “Take one. It will make you feel better.” His voice is almost unbearably gentle and it’s the only reason why Minho obeys, twisting the cap open to drop one of the white pills in his palm. What he really wants to do is stand up and pull Kibum close, draw energy straight from the other man and his presence, but something holds him back.

He feels like he’s already taken so much, without ever giving enough in turn. He doesn’t dare ask for anything more.

“We can’t go on,” Minho says and startles himself with the roughly spoken words. “Not anymore,” he adds softer, apologies written in his eyes as he looks up.

Kibum doesn’t seem to be surprised though, he simply offers a soft smile. “I know.” It feels resigned, as if he’s already accepted the fact and now only stating the obvious. Minho doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about that, but it’s not like he could feel anything through the thick blanket of emptiness he’s wrapped into right now.

“I need to make things right,” Minho says, more to himself than to anyone else. If it wasn’t for Jungwoo he wouldn’t even hesitate picking Kibum over his marriage, and he’s fairly certain his wife wouldn’t object to that. But there’s no way he can do that to his son, break the home they’ve so carefully tried to maintain or even worse, abandon his only child like he doesn’t even care.

For once, he needs to do what’s right. He needs to think about his son first.

Kibum seems to understand that. It’s funny how that sends a spike of fresh hurt through Minho’s heart, to finally know that everything between them is real, has always been real. If he had known that five years ago… things might be a lot different now. It’s too late for that now, too late for him to choose as the decision has been made for him.

Out of the two persons in this world he loves, he has to pick the one who needs him more.

They don’t talk more as they finish their drinks slowly. The morning sun is seeping in through the jalousies, casting indefinite patterns on every surface. It seems like the perfect moment to turn another page.

At the door, Minho pulls Kibum into one last warm embrace. They kiss, and once it breaks naturally Minho still keeps their faces close, their foreheads touching. “I love you.” The words are merely whispered, barely audible, but he’s never meant anything as much as he means them. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud during these almost seven years they’ve spent clinging on to one another.

It’s also going to be the last time. Kibum doesn’t answer but it’s all there in the way he smiles through his tears, his eyes glistening with them as he refuses to break down. Instead he grabs the lapels of Minho’s jacket and pulls him close.

Minho tastes salt in the last kiss they share. Minutes later the door falls shut behind him, locking them in two separate worlds.








It’s on Jungwoo’s birthday that Minho realizes he hasn’t seen Kibum in over a year. The little boy has stopped asking after his favourite uncle, and for that Minho is grateful. It’s not like he doesn’t already think about Kibum enough as it is.

His wife doesn’t talk to him even as much as she used to, and they no longer sleep in the same room at all. Minho has made the guestroom his own permanently, even if it still doesn’t feel like home. He spends most of his nights blinking up into the blank ceiling, surrounded by nothing but eerie silence.

At least there’s still work. It proves to be a valuable distraction, even if not as enjoyable as the time spent together with Jungwoo. Maybe Minho can once find a balance to his life. He can only hope.

---
(1915 words)



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as I said, very emotional for me to write, and I dunno if it comes across properly but I HOPE

now, one more chapter to go! will post it on the weekend :)

also I prettified the masterlist today :D