rabenhorst (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rabenhorst) wrote2011-03-03 08:33 pm
rabenhorst) wrote2011-03-03 08:33 pm
Entry tags:
[fic] Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi – SJM – the last (the first) day – Oneshot
Title: the last (the first) day
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fonulyn
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Would telling about it sooner have changed anything at all in the end? All Kyuhyun knows is that he will always be there, no matter what.
Comments: I’m kind of iffy about this but well, I figured it won’t get any better if I just stare at it brainlessly without doing anything :/ I never write angst, seriously. Never. So this is… weird for me. And I abuse the italics, someone make me stop. And someone cheer me up so I won’t write more angst :/ Or force me write happy things!
The sharp sound of the door slamming shut barely has the time to ring through the air before the first angry words are spat out, without taking the detour through Kyuhyun’s brain first, coming straight from his heart, his gut, wherever the basic feelings reside.
“And you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me about it?” Kyuhyun is nearly shaking and one can see he is angry. More than angry, actually, he is practically raging if the burn in his eyes and the dark tint of red on his skin is anything to go by. He is clenching his fists and for a split second he really, really wants to punch something, slam his fist into the wall right next to Zhou Mi’s face. He can already see those clear eyes widen, the shock written all over the Chinese man’s features and he holds back, knowing he would only make it worse.
At a first glance, Zhou Mi looks calm, almost frighteningly so. Only when one looks more closely it becomes clear how shaken he is as well, how he is worrying his lower lip with his teeth, his fingers fidgeting as he tries hard not to move his hands to grasp something, someone. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. It doesn’t matter.”
Of all the possible words he could’ve picked, those are probably the worst ones.
“It doesn’t matter!?” Kyuhyun nearly shrieks and this time his fist shoots out, colliding painfully with the nightstand and he knows he will regret it later, his knuckles already burning and joints aching. “It’s your voice.” He lets the words sink in for good measure, his eyes flaring up with emotion as he stares right at the other man across the small room. “Of course it matters!”
Zhou Mi doesn’t flinch visibly like he had thought he would, but one can still see how his eyes are a little bit wider, his lips set to a thin line as he levels his jaw stubbornly. He is not backing down. “And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, deliberately slow and steady, emphasizing every single word. “If I had told you earlier, what would you have done?”
“I could’ve made you rest, for god’s sake, stop pushing yourself so hard and – ” Kyuhyun stops in mid-sentence, his lips still parted and his breath catching in his throat. He shakes his head a little bit, biting his lower lip hard – hard enough for it to probably leave a bruise – as he adds the rest silently in his mind I could’ve taken care of you.
I could’ve taken care of you. Please let me take care of you. Please.
He never says it out loud, though. In fact, neither of them says anything and there is a long silence, stretching its icy claws into the room and between them. It’s so suffocating that before long Kyuhyun looks up, nearly freezing in mid-movement when their eyes meet.
“And would I have listened?” Zhou Mi asks softly. His voice is sad, resigned, and yet somehow it feels like he is the one comforting Kyuhyun and not the other way around.
Kyuhyun knows the answer without even thinking of it. “No.” He is aching inside, pain flashing through his chest but he doesn’t let it show, his face a mask of pure blankness. Zhou Mi wouldn’t have listened to him. He wouldn’t have stopped practicing and he wouldn’t have eased up. No matter what Kyuhyun would’ve told him.
But still.
But still, he wants to say, it could be different. It could be easier. It should be. And yet he knows it never will be. This isn’t something they can rewind and try again, and even if they could it might not ever turn like he wants it to.
Kyuhyun looks up again and this time neither of them flinches when their eyes meet. There is something almost scary in Zhou Mi’s eyes, something Kyuhyun can only describe as endless sadness. There is no mask right now, nothing to hide behind and he isn’t pretending to be stronger than he is. Still Kyuhyun expected tears, expected a breakdown of some sort and the lack of one frightens him.
“Zhou Mi,” he begins but he doesn’t get any further before he’s brought face to face with exactly what he thought was missing.
“Do you think it’s easy?” Zhou Mi’s voice cracks in the end of the sentence, as if mocking them and the whole situation. After all, his voice is why they are having the whole conversation in the first place. “Do you think it’s easy,” Zhou Mi repeats after swallowing hard, doing his best to avoid Kyuhyun’s searching gaze, “waking up in the morning and wondering if it’s the last day you’ll ever be able to sing? Or if it’s already the first day when you can’t.”
Something breaks in Kyuhyun’s chest and he can’t hold back anymore, not now. He has no words, he has nothing that could make things better. And while he can’t know how it feels to live in constant fear of losing his voice, he knows how it is to fear, how it is to think everything is lost. He hasn’t always been an optimist but there is a glimmer of hope inside of him that nothing, nothing, has managed to smother.
He steps closer and when he envelopes Zhou Mi into his arms the taller man doesn’t resist, but instead practically curls into the embrace, clutching tight on Kyuhyun’s shirt. He combs his fingers through Zhou Mi’s silky hair, gently rubs his back through two layers of clothing and whispers it will be okay in his ear over and over again until he isn’t sure if he’s saying it out loud anymore or just thinking of it.
Everything will turn out fine. Everything turned out fine for him, too.
Things will turn out fine. They have to.
---
988 words.
Okay so I was in a shitty shitty mood and then this showed up on my twitter page and … I dunno. Forgive me? ;____;
This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to write fic when I’m sick. Or cranky. Or sick and cranky. I can make it up to you somehow? ;__; ♥
Feel free to add our journal if you like the stories!
Plus, the archive.
Author:
fonulynRating: PG13
Pairing: Kyuhyun/Zhou Mi
Disclaimer: I own no one, only my dirty imagination.
Summary: Would telling about it sooner have changed anything at all in the end? All Kyuhyun knows is that he will always be there, no matter what.
Comments: I’m kind of iffy about this but well, I figured it won’t get any better if I just stare at it brainlessly without doing anything :/ I never write angst, seriously. Never. So this is… weird for me. And I abuse the italics, someone make me stop. And someone cheer me up so I won’t write more angst :/ Or force me write happy things!
The sharp sound of the door slamming shut barely has the time to ring through the air before the first angry words are spat out, without taking the detour through Kyuhyun’s brain first, coming straight from his heart, his gut, wherever the basic feelings reside.
“And you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me about it?” Kyuhyun is nearly shaking and one can see he is angry. More than angry, actually, he is practically raging if the burn in his eyes and the dark tint of red on his skin is anything to go by. He is clenching his fists and for a split second he really, really wants to punch something, slam his fist into the wall right next to Zhou Mi’s face. He can already see those clear eyes widen, the shock written all over the Chinese man’s features and he holds back, knowing he would only make it worse.
At a first glance, Zhou Mi looks calm, almost frighteningly so. Only when one looks more closely it becomes clear how shaken he is as well, how he is worrying his lower lip with his teeth, his fingers fidgeting as he tries hard not to move his hands to grasp something, someone. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. It doesn’t matter.”
Of all the possible words he could’ve picked, those are probably the worst ones.
“It doesn’t matter!?” Kyuhyun nearly shrieks and this time his fist shoots out, colliding painfully with the nightstand and he knows he will regret it later, his knuckles already burning and joints aching. “It’s your voice.” He lets the words sink in for good measure, his eyes flaring up with emotion as he stares right at the other man across the small room. “Of course it matters!”
Zhou Mi doesn’t flinch visibly like he had thought he would, but one can still see how his eyes are a little bit wider, his lips set to a thin line as he levels his jaw stubbornly. He is not backing down. “And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, deliberately slow and steady, emphasizing every single word. “If I had told you earlier, what would you have done?”
“I could’ve made you rest, for god’s sake, stop pushing yourself so hard and – ” Kyuhyun stops in mid-sentence, his lips still parted and his breath catching in his throat. He shakes his head a little bit, biting his lower lip hard – hard enough for it to probably leave a bruise – as he adds the rest silently in his mind I could’ve taken care of you.
I could’ve taken care of you. Please let me take care of you. Please.
He never says it out loud, though. In fact, neither of them says anything and there is a long silence, stretching its icy claws into the room and between them. It’s so suffocating that before long Kyuhyun looks up, nearly freezing in mid-movement when their eyes meet.
“And would I have listened?” Zhou Mi asks softly. His voice is sad, resigned, and yet somehow it feels like he is the one comforting Kyuhyun and not the other way around.
Kyuhyun knows the answer without even thinking of it. “No.” He is aching inside, pain flashing through his chest but he doesn’t let it show, his face a mask of pure blankness. Zhou Mi wouldn’t have listened to him. He wouldn’t have stopped practicing and he wouldn’t have eased up. No matter what Kyuhyun would’ve told him.
But still.
But still, he wants to say, it could be different. It could be easier. It should be. And yet he knows it never will be. This isn’t something they can rewind and try again, and even if they could it might not ever turn like he wants it to.
Kyuhyun looks up again and this time neither of them flinches when their eyes meet. There is something almost scary in Zhou Mi’s eyes, something Kyuhyun can only describe as endless sadness. There is no mask right now, nothing to hide behind and he isn’t pretending to be stronger than he is. Still Kyuhyun expected tears, expected a breakdown of some sort and the lack of one frightens him.
“Zhou Mi,” he begins but he doesn’t get any further before he’s brought face to face with exactly what he thought was missing.
“Do you think it’s easy?” Zhou Mi’s voice cracks in the end of the sentence, as if mocking them and the whole situation. After all, his voice is why they are having the whole conversation in the first place. “Do you think it’s easy,” Zhou Mi repeats after swallowing hard, doing his best to avoid Kyuhyun’s searching gaze, “waking up in the morning and wondering if it’s the last day you’ll ever be able to sing? Or if it’s already the first day when you can’t.”
Something breaks in Kyuhyun’s chest and he can’t hold back anymore, not now. He has no words, he has nothing that could make things better. And while he can’t know how it feels to live in constant fear of losing his voice, he knows how it is to fear, how it is to think everything is lost. He hasn’t always been an optimist but there is a glimmer of hope inside of him that nothing, nothing, has managed to smother.
He steps closer and when he envelopes Zhou Mi into his arms the taller man doesn’t resist, but instead practically curls into the embrace, clutching tight on Kyuhyun’s shirt. He combs his fingers through Zhou Mi’s silky hair, gently rubs his back through two layers of clothing and whispers it will be okay in his ear over and over again until he isn’t sure if he’s saying it out loud anymore or just thinking of it.
Everything will turn out fine. Everything turned out fine for him, too.
Things will turn out fine. They have to.
---
988 words.
Okay so I was in a shitty shitty mood and then this showed up on my twitter page and … I dunno. Forgive me? ;____;
This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to write fic when I’m sick. Or cranky. Or sick and cranky. I can make it up to you somehow? ;__; ♥
Feel free to add our journal if you like the stories!
Plus, the archive.
no subject