Merry Christmas, Kiss My Ass
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Kim Jongin greets the frosty morning with an ear-splitting smile. Almost as if cheering him on his good mood, the snow fell gracefully outside of his window, like cherry blossom leaves down the white pavement. Even the sparkling eyes of by-passers down the road added to the excitement in the atmosphere.
Had a stranger witness the look of Jongin’s room right now, he’d have thought that Santa threw up on Jongin’s bedroom, leaving behind green-and-red sheets, reindeer patterned wrappers, red ribbons, and other sparkly sequins. Jongin wanted to tear them all down at first, but upon seeing Kyungsoo’s excitement when it came to decorating, Jongin can hardly say no. Kyungsoo might as well ask if Jongin could jump off a cliff, and if that would make Kyungsoo happy, Jongin would do it.
Today—Christmas Eve—he would do something that would certainly make Kyungsoo’s Christmas merry. He’s going to ask the large-eyed nineteen-year-old to be his boyfriend, and he would making it pretty fucking special.
He starts off by exercising, after all, what better way to impress potential boyfriend than to display a drool-worthy body, right?
In his room, he does a series of jumping jacks, and two dozen pushups and sit-ups before jogging in place for seven minutes. While doing another set of exercises, he tries to imagine what Kyungsoo’s reaction later would be like. Jongin thinks that Kyungsoo makes the best expressions—he’s just that cute.
Gosh, even thinking about Kyungsoo causes his heart to do cart wheels worthy of the Olympics. What more if he could actually kiss Kyungsoo? And maybe even get to hug him, or something more?
Jongin doesn’t realize that he’s jumping around his room like a hyper teenage girl until he banged his head against the wall. But even that doesn’t stop him from squealing while rolling on the floor; he’s just getting in synch with his frizzing nerves.
Chanyeol—Jongin’s self-proclaimed best friend and neighbor—walked in and caught the younger smiling while kissing a dark red pillow. Now, Chanyeol had always seen Jongin’s serious side (he only lets Kyungsoo see his aegyo, not that Chanyeol minds), and moments like these are rare, so he fishes for his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. Chanyeol snaps a quick picture, double checking to make sure that the angle was perfect.
Thankfully, Jongin didn’t notice Chanyeol’s large presence immediately. So he was unaware of the framed evidence as he glares at Chanyeol. “What are you doing here?”
“Uhm, you sort of threatened me to be here.” Chanyeol brings his hand up to his ear like he’s holding a phone, and imitates Jongin’s voice. “Chanyeol, if you don’t come here early tomorrow, I would cut your balls off with a pair of Swiss army knife and wrap it up nicely before giving it to Baekhyun as a present. If you don’t accompany me today, you won’t be able to father children.”
His poor imitation triggers something in Jongin’s memory, and upon recalling what he did, Jongin grins sheepishly; a haughty school boy caught in the act. “Well then hyung, let’s get ready and grab something to eat. It’s going to be a loooooooooong Christmas Eve for us.”
Chanyeol just nods and blinks and doesn’t comment any further—because in his opinion, a happy Jongin is a creepy Jongin.
Chanyeol sees Jongin in a tuxedo for the first time. And even though he made a mental promise to hate Jongin forever, he begrudgingly admits that Jongin can pull off red long sleeves, black neck tie accompanied by a clean-cut black suit. Jongin steps out of the house with a smug smile on his face. Chanyeol does him a favor and doesn’t compliment him—Jongin’s ego is big enough as it is.
While walking to the nearest McDonalds—situated just around the corner of their street—Chanyeol steals glances at the scowling bronze-skinned boy behind him and wondered how the hell they managed to not kill each other after all these years. It was Chanyeol who had once went down on his knees to beg for Jongin’s approval just to let him live in the room beside him. And of course, it was also Chanyeol who had to be Jongin’s helper for a whole month just to test his ‘responsibility and cleaning skills’.
And now they’re here, shuffling through the white layers of snow without insulting each other. Ever since Kyungsoo invaded Jongin’s life with the help of swimming lessons followed by suggestive conversations during summer time, Chanyeol realizes that Jongin can be pleasant to be with sometimes.
So he’ll just let the errant eighteen-year-old believe that he’s been forced to help out when the truth is: Chanyeol’s helping him from the bottom of his heart.
“Argh, I’m so full already.” Chanyeol leans back against the chair while rubbing his nearly flat stomach. “How are you going to ask Kyungsoo?”
“I have this plan,” Jongin starts, closing the space between him and Chanyeol to let him know that things are about to get pretty serious. “I’m going to have some of our friends deliver letters to him throughout the whole day. These letters will contain reasons why I love Kyungsoo. Sort of like that song that goes ‘on the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, yada yada yada.’ And by the end of it all, I’m going to go up to him with the last letter and I’m going to straight out ask him.”
“Oh, that sounds cool, man!” Even with his stomach full of soda and chicken, Chanyeol continues to nibble on a handful of fries. “Did you already write those letters?”
“Well, not yet. I want to have someone with a clean penmanship do it, and on very very fine paper, too. I want to make this as special as possible. Kyungsoo can hardly read what I write.” Jongin shudders while recalling the way Kyungsoo squints his eyes hard when decoding Jongin’s handwriting.
“What about Sehun? He’s got the best handwriting, as far as I know.”
“I don’t like him.”
“You don’t have another choice, Kris writes as well as he draws.” It’s a fact.
Jongin groans and buries his head between his hands, knowing that he’s doomed even before they started. While it’s true that Sehun’s the one with the perfect penmanship, it’s also true that Jongin and Sehun aren’t the best of friends out there. Sehun is forever under the impression that one of these days; Jongin is going to steal Luhan away from him by, I don’t know, stripping or raping said innocent, and doe-eyed Chinese boyfriend.
Don’t worry though; it’s just Sehun being paranoid.
“So, are you going to go swallow your pride, or?” After a minute of silence, Chanyeol asks with raised eyebrows.
“If it means having to be with Kyungsoo forever, then I guess it won’t be too bad, right?” Jongin asks to make himself believe.
“Right, it’s worth it.”
“Yeah, well fuck you!” Sehun yells as he throws a wooden chair in Jongin’s direction. Lucky for Jongin and his bones, he managed to duck it just in time to see it tumbling down the road.
“Yes, I know your boyfriend would like to!” Jongin yells back, pumping a clenched fist in the frosty air.
“You did not just go there! I knew you had something for my baby Lulu!”
“Shut up! You make me sick!” Jongin spats on the pavement, causing Sehun to roll his eyes. Peasants these days.
“I can’t believe I even considered helping you.” Sehun crosses his fist and Chanyeol knows it’s time to intervene. They’ve been at it like cats and dogs for the past ten minutes and he’s been freezing underneath a bare, dark tree just as long. Initially, he didn’t know what to expect because wherever Jongin and Sehun is, there trouble will come jogging after. Maybe he just hoped that Sehun would be willing to help out now, because of the Holiday spirit.
“Sehun, just be kind to him for once.”
“I don’t want to. He’s trying to steal my boyfriend.”
“If you help Jongin out today, he’s not going to do that because he’s going to have his own boyfriend.” Saying that made Chanyeol realize how gay all of them were. Sehun trapped Luhan. Kris won’t admit it, but he’s got the hots for Yixing. Tao is somewhere in between. Xiumin and Chen are practically married. And in Chanyeol’s dreams, he’s got Baekhyun to love and to cherish forever.
Sehun brings down the flower pot he was trying to throw in Jongin’s way as if he was starting to see the light in Chanyeol’s words. “If you look at it that way . . . .”
“There! I’m done with those three letters.” Sehun carefully places his beloved ink pen down and moves sideways to let Jongin and Chanyeol ogle in reverence at the pristine papers. The stack of neat, crisp papers in Sehun’s hand earns a cheeky grin on Chanyeol’s face and a curt nod from Jongin.
The three of them are inside a stationary shop—at the very counter where a young woman is standing, staring at them as if she had never seen three guys before shoving each other while cursing at the one who’s writing every five seconds. She’s been working at this little stationary shop for two years, and Christmas had always been hectic, but this is her first time having these kinds of customers.
“Let’s go! I can’t wait to give them all to Kyungsoo! Just imagine the cute expression on his face.” Jongin starts and the two guys flanking beside him sighs.
There are faint blotches of red on the cashier’s cheeks as she clears her throat. “Excuse me sir, but you still didn’t pay for all of that.”
“Oh, go Jongin.” Chanyeol and Sehun singsongs, gliding out of the glass doors like their feet are made up of blades and the ground is an ice rink. They're totally unaware of the fact that Jongin's just a kid who's one store away from being broke.
These three pass by the road to Chocolala—the chocolate shop where their friend slash singing mentor, Jongdae, works part time. Snowflakes flirt with their open flesh, but the cold doesn’t seem to sour their mood. If ever, it even drew out light laughter and merry eyes. The way Sehun and Jongin even shared a joke together amazed Jongdae when they entered the shop adorned with curtains and furniture in vibrant red and gold.
Jongdae seems to be busy balancing trays of steaming mugs beside saucers where deserts are placed. The fluorescent lightning coats everything in warm shades of yellow and light brown.
“Someone’s definitely merry this Christmas.” Once he took off his coat and ushers them to the only vacant table by the corner, Jongdae comments.
“It’s because someone’s going to finally ask someone out.” Chanyeol pointedly stares at the grinning Jongin.
“After all these months? Guess the holiday spirit has finally given you the balls, man.” He wouldn’t be the Jongdae that they knew if he doesn’t sprout random, unhelpful comments like these every once in a while.
Jongin starts to explain his plan, how he’s going to do it, and how they all should cooperate. Even though he’s the second youngest out of the four, his voice demands authority—just like it always does. Sehun nibbles on a slice of chocolate cake and listens, wondering how on earth he and Jongin lasted minutes together. Sehun tells himself that it’s just the Christmas spirit, and he’s sure that after all of these, things will return to normal.
The thing about their lives is, nothing is every normal. Slightly normal means the usual squabbles between Sehun and Jongin, tangled console wires in front of the television where Luhan and Chanyeol’s eyes would be fixed, the scent of Kyungsoo’s cooking would invade the air around them. Normal meant having good friends and not-so-good friends around. Oh, they're normal.
“I really owe you one, hyung.” Behind him, Jongin’s words of gratitude are delivered in a whisper. Jongdae’s heard Jongin’s plea, and he’s more than eager to help. Not because of Jongin’s persistence, but because Jongdae could see how much this really means to the younger. Things like confessions, romance, and that entire shindig do him in. With eager hands, Jongin flattens the envelope against Jongdae’s open palm. “He’s going to be in the library by now. You can give it to him there.”
“Do you know Kyungsoo’s schedule for the whole day?” Jongdae carefully holds the envelope between his hands while fixing his thick jacket.
“Not really, I wasn’t sure of where he was between nine and eleven in the morning.” Jongin pouts, as if that seriously bothered him.
“Are you sure you’re not a stalker? How come you know all those things?”
“I’m a lover, and I have my sources. Better safe than sorry.”
“You mean ‘better stalk than sorry’?” Jongdae’s gifted with a light kick in the knee. “Okay, okay. I’ll go and give it to him now. I need money first.”
“For what?” Jongin sits down in front of the older.
“The transportation and the time fee, do you think that my minutes don’t matter? I’m going to be gone for half an hour or something just because of this and that means that I’m going to have to ignore my shift and—“ Jongdae’s too scared to continue because Jongin’s eyes are drilling holes into his soul he’s sure that his future children and their grandchildren could feel it. “Maybe I should start walking now.”
“Maybe you should.”
Do Kyungsoo is cute, and he likes to read. The first one is a fact stated by those who have seen him; the second one is pretty much self-proclaimed. He reads for leisure and to get away from pressure. These past few days had definitely been filled with pressure—to wrap gifts quicker, to scribble down notes on Christmas cards faster, and to finish work and every little thing before the holidays. Thankfully, with Jongin’s help and energy, he’s been able to finish the things that needed to be finished.
When everyone else that he knew were busy with last minute Christmas shopping, preparing meals, packing gifts, and singing jingles, Kyungsoo is inside the town’s library with no one but the librarian and a couple of kids his age for company. He doesn’t mind the silence, in fact, he delights in it.
A copy of Haruki Murakami’s After Dark rests between Kyungsoo’s palms. His large eyes dart from left to right, taking phrases and fragments in as if it’s oxygen that he needs in his system. Focused and engrossed, this is how Jongdae found him.
“Hello, Kyungsoo.” Kyungsoo turns to the speaker, even though he had already been aware of the incoming footsteps and heavy breathing. “Someone sort of wants to give this to you. Yeah, Bye. Merry Christmas.”
Jongdae runs away right after dropping a clean, white envelope on the table beside the book. Kyungsoo picks it up and reads it.
—
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me,
Nothing because I don’t have a true love, yet.
You’re that potential one, true love. One. First. One. This is where everything starts. It took me One week to really talk to you after meeting you. This is going to sound really cheesy, but you’re the one for me. You’re the first. The first person that I’ve wasted nights just thinking about. The first person whom I worked hard for just to give a birthday present to. The first person that I danced under the rain with on September. The first person whom I wouldn't mind having beside me until the walls of forever would crash.
To cut it all down, you’re the first person that I have truly loved, and if you give us the chance, you’ll also be the last.
—
Jongin receives a message from Jongdae saying ‘mission complete’ and it makes Jongin roll his eyes to heaven and Sehun comment mission complete, what are we, spies?
“I guess it’s all good then. Now, who else could we ask to deliver the second one?”The three musketeers are using the cups of hot chocolate on their hands for warmth. Jongin was never one for planning things beforehand, and it’s not like he’s going to change anytime soon.
“There’s Yixing. Maybe we can ask him, he’s really kind.”
“But he’s forgetful. He might forget which way he should go or something. Did anyone call him today to tell him that it’s Christmas Eve?”
“Kris does it for him now. Don’t worry; I’m sure he’s informed.” Chanyeol grins then shakes his head at Sehun. “Let’s split up. I need to get something for Baekhyun immediately.”
“And you just remembered, because we talked about forgetting things, right?” Sehun asks, but he’s also mimicking Chanyeol and straightening his shirt as he stands. “Speaking of things that shouldn’t be forgotten, I also have to go now to check up on my Lulu baby.”
“He’s not going anywhere.” Jongin replies.
“Oh, I’ll make sure of that.” There’s a mischievous glint in Sehun’s chocolate eyes, and Jongin doesn’t even want to know what sort of methods Sehun would use to make Luhan stay. Apparently, ‘conservative’ was never a word used to describe Sehun.
“I’ll give you guys a call later, when I need you. Guess I’ll go get Yixing-hyung now.”
There are things that are very very easy to forget; like watering the only plant in Kris’s room, charging your mp3, drying out your hair, or wearing pants; all this Yixing had experienced, and all this Kris had endured with a marginal shake of his head, as if giving up on Yixing ever remembering something little.
To Kris, Yixing smells like strawberries (his shampoo) with a whiff of garlic (for some reason, Yixing is addicted to garlic bread), and that makes it the best aroma in the world. Others might argue, but Kris is stubborn and he firmly believes that nothing can rival the tantalizing scent of Yixing.
Kris knows how prone Yixing is to forgetting things better than anyone in the universe. So every time that Yixing heads out to get something or to practice, Kris would never forget to tow Yixing by his thin wrist to whisper Remember that I love you so close to Yixing’s ear that it makes the latter shiver involuntarily, like spring leaves caressed by the wind. Yixing would turn stop-light red right as he walks out. He might forget to iron his clothes, but he doesn’t forget the things worth remembering, like Kris’s love.
Also, Yixing had always been on the odd side. So, while the rest of the world is celebrating this day with their beloved ones, he’s under the protection of the dance studio he frequents. Synchronized limbs and sharp movements drive out sweat and raspy breathing from him. There’s no one around, the only living breathing he could see is the one in the mirror staring right back at him. He feels empty and complete, wondering how it’s possible, but it just is.
The Yixing in the mirror looks tired, but obviously pumped up. The bulb above casts dim light on his features, and Yixing doesn’t miss it when the door behind him creaks open. He turns, sees Jongin, and gives him a slow smile.
“Good afternoon, hyung.” Jongin sounds happy, and Yixing doesn’t miss it. Arriving here wasn’t easy. It took Jongin three minutes of getting sandwiched between eager vehicles, and a few more running to where Yixing is. It didn’t dawn on him that he could have saved himself all the trouble and have taken a taxi until he’s face to face with Yixing. Times like these makes Jongin want to look for the marbles he seemed to have lost along the way.
“Good afternoon, what do you want?”
Yixing knows what Jongin’s going to say, so he smiles when Jongin goes along with the script in his mind. “How did you know I want something?”
“You’re Jongin; you always have something to ask out of people. That’s just how you are. You can’t help that, offence meant.” Yixing smiles because, gosh, he’d been dying to say that. He expects Jongin to stick his lips out in mock frustration, as with every other time that he’s frustrated. But Jongin laughs merrily, like there are bells at the base of his throat and it makes Yixing’s stomach clench in nervousness.
“You’re right. I do have something I want to ask out of you. I need you to deliver something to Kyungsoo. Would that be okay? And after you do, can you please give the third one to Xiumin? Since I don’t know where he is and you guys are closer, anyway.”
“Why don’t you just hire random kids out there? I’m sure that they’ll gladly do it for you for a couple of bucks.”
Jongin whines. “But I want to make this special! So I want the people that he knows and cares about give this to him, and stuff. Please?” The he drops the most dangerous five words ever said by mankind. “I’ll do anything in return.”
“Anything?” Yixing shifts his head slightly to the right and raises his tone in a way that makes Jongin squint because in Yixing’s world, favors cost a lot. Had he been well, not in love with Kyungsoo, Jongin would never plead to one of his hyungs for something. But he did, and he does, and that’s why he’s looking at Yixing desperately with the next envelope clutched on his hand.
“Come over for the next two weeks and clean my place. I haven’t seen the floor for a while now.” Jongin nods, and stops himself from yelling out how it’s unfair and how he’s asking for something little, and he gets this in return. Anything for Kyungsoo.
“Okay, just give this to him then Xiumin, alright? And Merry Christmas, kiss my ass.”
Kyungsoo and Yixing are two old heads on young shoulders. They met each other during one of Jongdae’s numerous parties, about a few months ago. They discovered that they both liked to think deeply about things, yet maintaining insanity at the same time. Jongin unties the strings that are holding Kyungsoo’s hummingbird heart, and Kris unlocks the frozen hinges of Yixing’s soul.
Kyungsoo and Yixing had been each other’s confidants. On nights where Jongin would keep on being his usual, spoiled self, Kyungsoo would turn to Yixing for advice. Same goes for those horrible afternoons where Kris would pester Yixing to tell him how he really feels. It’s safe to say that Yixing is Kyungsoo’s best friend when it comes to love and all its agonizing ways.
Kyungsoo is back at his own dorm now, lying on a pile of freshly-laundered clothes splayed all over the carpeted floor, like multi-colored moss layered against the soil. His gaze remains steady on the white ceiling above him, as if it’s the night sky containing constellations he has to find. The truth is: Kyungsoo is happy and bewildered this Christmas Eve.
Right after he read Jongin’s letter, he heard the little school-boy in him whimper in shock and mumble incoherently. His over static feelings are being translated into screeches and loved-up sighs. A vibration in his pocket halts his running train of thought, and he immediately picks it up. It’s Yixing.
“I’m outside your door. Open up.” The call ends even before Kyungsoo has a chance to say Hello. He gets up and walks to the door, opening it with a grumble. In front of him, Yixing stands a few inches taller. He’s shuffling his neon red heels aimlessly, and Kyungsoo can’t concentrate on anything else because Yixing is dressed like a girl. Damn, he’s even wearing make-up.
“What happened?” He doesn’t bother hiding the look of horror on his face. Kyungsoo examines Yixing in a bright red, short, provocative dress, and Kyungsoo notices the cotton stuffed on the breast area of the shirt as it peeks out. Yixing looks like a stripper on drugs who just robbed a bank on Christmas. Much to his amazement and Yixing’s irritation, he lets out a laugh and stays like that for a good four minutes. “Did you forget that it’s Christmas? You look like a poor cosplayer of Blossom from the Power Puff girls.”
Yixing thinks what the Hades, sucks it up, and puffs his lips like a blowfish. He leans closer to Kyungsoo in a very improper way, and slurs: “Would you treat me like one of your French girls, now?”
“Cut it out. You’re giving me goose bumps.”
Yixing winks. “That’s not the only thing that I can give you today.”
“Seriously Yixing, stop. What happened to you? Why are you dressed like that?”
Yixing lets himself inside Kyungsoo’s brightly-furnished dorm. He starts to explain as he slumps down against red couch. It almost camouflages him. “Jongin happened. He wanted to me give something to you in exchange for something. I agreed, but then he also added that I wear these,” Yixing pretends to shudder as he points to his outfit. “Just for the heck of it and to ‘liven up the Christmas spirit’. I don’t even remember why I agreed.”
Kyungsoo chuckles. “Maybe he coaxed you into thinking that Kris would like it?”
“Ah, that’s it! For Kris, right.” Yixing’s hands reach up to arrange his make-shift cleavage. “Anyway, here’s that damned letter, and I should get going now because this make-up might wear off and it would be a shame if Kris doesn’t see it. I’d like to show him how I can be the perfect man-woman for him.”
Kyungsoo is staring at the closed door Yixing walked out of a few seconds ago, sauntering his hips in a way that he thought was seductive. He shakes his head and opens the envelope, preparing to read it. Kyungsoo warns his heart to not attempt to leap out of his ribcage this time. But it still betrays him, because upon reading the content, he felt his heart start to sprout flowers upon flowers inside him, bursting out through the spaces between his bones.
—
Two.
I know a lot of overused lines that goes along with this. Like that line in perfect two that goes, “You can be the peanut butter to my jelly; you can be the butterflies that I feel in my belly.” But I feel like it would be a bit overused and too romantic. Two, the other one is me and the other is you. I’m not saying that we fit together like puzzle pieces, I’m saying that we’re both compatible together.
You’re the fire to light my baggage—and I had a lot of it too, baggage. Emotional, physical, almost everything made up of every little thing under the sun. You’re the water to my thirsty roots. You’re that special seasoning to add to my noodles and—oh my god, I’m being too cheesy here. Moving on, you’re that thing that I’d been looking for. I didn’t know what it was until I found you, and now I don’t want to let you go.
I want to light lanterns along the length of your spine; they’ll guide me back home. I want to run a hand through your hair, once, twice, thrice, until it turns gray. I want to kiss you until you can’t remember how to breathe. I want you to want me as much as I want you. I want to be that person that you’re unconsciously looking for. I want to be that one person sitting beside you on quiet nights and halcyon mornings.
So let me.
—
Jongin is alone. A few blocks from where Kyungsoo is, Jongin’s hands are gripping the metal chains of a swing. They’re ice cold, but he keeps on holding on, until the warmth of his hands spread throughout the iron. This is the place where he first saw Kyungsoo. It’s nothing but a mini-park in the middle of their subdivision, but Jongin likes to mentally call it ‘The Chaser’ just because that was the song that he’d first heard Kyungsoo sing; and it had been at this very park.
Chaser? Jongin, how corny can you get? Can’t you just call this park as it is? Kyungsoo once smiled when Jongin told him what he thought of this place.
That’s why everyone’s so dull. They don’t try new things. Crazy things. Jongin smiles back and he knows that Kyungsoo appreciates it. He also likes how Kyungsoo doesn’t laugh at his stupidity even though the elder’s got a good reason to.
There had been less swings and slides in this park once. There had been fewer trees of orange and dull red once, and Jongin’s been in love here once, too. But that was a different type of love, Jongin mused as he lazily slung his long legs back and forth, The place touched something a part of Jongin’s mind that he liked to keep hidden, just because he thinks it would seem special that way; a promise hidden between tissues and nerves.
It was with a guy who liked to be called D.O. It seems cool, and doesn’t it sound like a rapper’s name? D.O. would reply with a carefree smirk whenever people would prod him about his peculiar nickname. No one in their neighborhood had known what his real name was: I don’t even know it either. It’s just D.O. D.O would press. Young D.O. and even younger Jongin had known each other for three seasons, and have been friends for two. D.O. was gone, and he didn’t even wait for the trees to shred its leaves, and the ground coated with a blanket of snow.
Looking back at it now, Jongin had thought that D.O. was unfair, which lead him to making the elder call him ‘Kai’ just because it’s so unrelated to Jongin. Kai and D.O; names underneath alibis and smiles graced with chipped front-teeth. For the good part of summer and autumn, these two shared things together; laughter, tasteless jokes, cheap bottled juices, paper cuts, dog-eared books, pencils with chewed ends, and secrets sealed with tears.
Jongin had loved D.O. in a way that you can only love a childhood friend: innocent, careless, and impulsive. Jongin loved D.O. when he was thirteen and the latter fourteen, with a love that wasn’t enough to make D.O. stay.
My father has to go to work in another Bhusan. He’s going far faraway, and he’s taking us with him. I’ll miss you, though. D.O. choked out with teary eyes and shaking hands, but Jongin was too hurt and shocked to even listen. His ribs felt as cold as the snow on his exposed ankles. Jongin didn’t listen, so D.O. left, and never came back.
He never saw D.O. again, and the last time that he heard anyone mention the boy’s name was when two ahjummas in the neighborhood whispered Do you remember that boy who used to play with Ms. Kim’s son? They said that he’s been in a car accident. Is he dead? No, thank the heavens.
Eighteen-year old Jongin smiles to himself, Thank the heavens indeed. He wonders where D.O. is right now, and if he still likes to recite the multiplication table backwards, and whether or not he fell insanely in love with someone else, the same way that Jongin had with Kyungsoo. Jongin swings harder and wonders.
♠ ♠ ♠
word count: 5,284do you love me now.
second part would be posted on the 24th (: