~ recommended music: you get me so high - the neighbourhood ~ “You know what’s wrong with you, Song Mingi?” Yunho slurred, the bottle of soju still in hand. Mingi was swaying his hips from side to side to music only he hears in his head. On the makeshift table – made out of a big box and a piece of plank on top of it – were speckles of white sand - or diamond dust, Mingi calls it - and he had some on his sharp nose as well, which he wiped off with his fingers when his nose started itching, sniffing at it to get as much into his system as possible.
“What?” Mingi asked, not as curious as he was lazy.
“You’re too clingy to me, that’s what.”
Mingi smirked at the comment. “Clingy? You’re the one who’d be too lonely without me.”
Yunho shook his lowered head as he swished the soju bottle in the air in disagreement. “Do you really think I only have you?”
“I’m starting to think so,” Mingi said, the smirk lingering on his face playfully. “If not, why are you here?”
“How can I leave you alone when you do shit like this?” Yunho asked, looking straight at Mingi now. He was trying to be serious but he can’t help but feel his eyes droop. God, I’m so drunk, he thought to himself. The cold November air wasn’t enough to keep him awake, and the drop from this 11-floor apartment building’s wide open rooftop scared him but not enough to keep himself from downing two whole bottles of soju.
Mingi started humming Illusion under his breath.
“Hey, the moon kinda looks like a purple sun, right?”
“But the moon’s white,” Yunho replied.
Mingi chuckled, and it annoyed Yunho. “You’re not seeing it, man. The moon’s purple. Look.” He pointed at the sky. It was cloudy tonight, and the moon was barely visible; just a slither of light to make a crescent.
Yunho didn’t know what to say. He was worried but Mingi wouldn’t remember anything if he scolded him now anyway. “You’re crazy,” was all he could manage. He stared at the sky for a while, and suddenly he felt Mingi’s arms slide from behind over his shoulders. A pair of hands meet across Yunho’s chest, and he felt the other’s head rest on top of his.
“You look so beautiful right now.”
Yunho suddenly felt like drinking a little bit more of that soju. He was embarrassed but he liked the warmth Mingi provided, despite being able to feel the hands’ coldness as it seeps through his jacket and to his skin like ice. He took them with his own cold hands and tried to warm them by rubbing them together. This made Mingi come closer and pull Yunho into a hug, his cheeks rubbing against Yunho’s hair.
“Thanks,” Mingi said.
“What for?”
“Just… for being here.”
Yunho turned to face the other. “Are you sober?”
“What’s a sober,” Mingi rolled his eyes. He let go of Yunho and went to open another bottle of soju, taking two gulps then wincing as he put the bottle down. Yunho sighed and his mouth moved to one side in disapproval. “Hey hey, you’re blushing,” Mingi mentioned, pointing at the other.
“What? No I’m not,” Yunho replied, putting his cold fingertips on his cheeks as he jutted his lips out a little, feeling accused. Okay, they’re a bit warm, Yunho thought to himself. “It’s just so cold out.”
“Yea,” Mingi chuckled. “Sure.”
“You sure you’re not sober?” Yunho asked, standing up. He started to walk towards Mingi, who was facing out into the neighbourhood.
“The key to being a great artist,” Mingi almost shouted. “is to never be completely sane.” He stretched his arms out, taking in the cold wind as it blew slowly and painfully. “That’s why van Gogh cut off his own ear. That’s why Beethoven was so great; he was spiralling down his own sanity from being deaf. That’s why-”
Mingi stopped when Yunho kissed his cheek.
“You’re cute, but research is showing that van Gogh’s friend was the one who cut off his ear.”
Mingi didn’t know what to do at first, but Yunho kept his eyes on the boy, waiting for a response. His cheeks were still flushed red, but he wasn’t shy. He just really, really wanted to kiss Mingi.
Mingi didn’t know what he was doing when his hand reached out for Yunho’s chin, pulling it closer to his own face, then landing his lips on the other’s. They moved away for a second, then came back together, separating their lips to feel the other’s warm tongue. They felt their heads spin, their blood flowing at rapid speed. They stayed there, kissing each other for a minute. Yunho pulled away first – he looked at the other’s eyes, then looked down. He wanted to leave from embarrassment, but Mingi took his hand.
“Why did van Gogh’s friend cut his ear?”
It took a moment for Yunho to come to his senses to reply. “They were drunk.”
They kept quiet for a bit. Irony works in funny ways.
“They were drunk and the dude was harassing the girl who worked at the bar. Van Gogh thought of the girl as his own sister, so he pulled his friend out of the bar so that he’d stop. The dude wasn’t happy about it, and pulled out his sword at van Gogh. Still, the friend was running as a minister in another country, and van Gogh didn’t want the crime to stop him from winning. So he claimed that he did it to himself.”
“You’re not making this up, right?”
“There’s proof.”
“So van Gogh’s just a really nice person huh?” Mingi sighed.
“You’re not too bad yourself,” Yunho said. He walked away, and swept the leftover ‘diamond dust’ off of the tabletop. “You can be great without the insanity. The world’s a crazy place already.”
Mingi watched as Yunho walked through the door to the stairwell. The effect of half a gram doesn’t do much to him anymore. He still tries to enjoy himself around Yunho, to show him that he’s okay. The thoughts need to disappear, even if it’s only a few minutes. Things are better if Yunho’s around though. He can tell Mingi weird stuff – like van Gogh fun facts – and make him forget about the voices.
I’ll just keep clinging to you then, Mingi thought to himself. It’s the only way I can stay sober, for now.
The boy wiped the sweat dripping down the side of his forehead, his steps long, trying to catch up without tripping on tree roots of the forest. Three others followed behind him, while a girl with long dark blonde hair lead up front, almost leaping across the forest ground as she avoided roots and mud and ants nests as if she had memorised the floor plan. She only glanced back a bit, pausing for a few seconds to let her friends catch up before starting again. The boy at the end of the line scrunched his eyebrows at the top of his nose in frustration.
"We'll be there soon enough, come on," the girl ahead replied.
"Will, you're not much slower than her," a girl with jet black hair and a nose ring called from behind. "It's really getting on my self esteem."
"Your constant refusal to join me at the gym calls for it," Will replied, smirking while wiping his blond hair back. "Hey Ella, break time," he called at the girl further up. She glanced back, rolled her eyes and stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms.
"I'm not into putting myself through voluntary pain," Lorenza told.
"Can we not talk about working out right now?" the girl just behind Will asked. She was two feet shorter than him with glasses slipping down her nose bridge, and just as much sweat as Will but refused to slow down - she'd rather not be left behind. "Ella, can we please know where you're bringing us? Maybe we'll be a bit more excited about this."
"We would have found out by now if you guys wouldn't be such babies about this," she replied from afar. "Literally, we're a minute away."
"I better not be disappointed," the other boy, standing at about Lorenza's height, said in a low voice as he passed the other three, wanting to get a head start. He had dark skin and curls at the top of his head, his temper holding up only until now.
"Chill out, Chad," Will patted the guy on the back before he followed along.
"Come on, Hedy," Lorenza said as she passed the girl with glasses. Hedy gave a deep sigh. At the back of the line, as expected, she thought to herself.
Not far from where they had stopped, Ella turned to look at the team. She gave a grin, holding her arms out at the clearing. The patch contrasted to the rest of the forest, in which the trees had turned into stumps and roots into bumpy soils, leaves gathered into patches randomly. On top of one of the stumps lay a shovel and gardening gloves. "You will never guess what lies beneath these soils."
"Dead bodies?" Will joked without smiling.
"Actually, you're spot on."
The rest of the group went silent. Lorenza spoke up first.
"Are you... serious?"
"Yes, I am," Ella grinned as she reached for the shovel and started digging at one of the what seemed like random bumps of soil, but now resembles graves to the group, with the patches or leaves cleverly disguised as headstones.
"You're really creeping me out, Ella," Hedy announced as she hugged her own torso in discomfort.
"It's like what we talked about, guys," she told in between breaths. "The world isn't going to make anymore sense if we keep letting idiots lead us. We have to do something about it, and where do we start? Right at home, of course." She stopped digging, wiping at her forehead. She then reached down to dust off some of the soil, then pulled out a detached head by the hair from the ground. Hedy gave a half-screech half-gasp, but stopped herself, closing her mouth with her hands.
"What the fuck?" Chad shouted. "Is that... Principal Gully?"
"Yea that idiot of a principal we have. Shouldn't have suspended me for writing a paper on how the government was spending too much on military. Sucks to be him."
"Ella you not only insulted the president but also the entire office for a class taught by a proud Republican. It was called for," Lorenza tried to reason. It seemed useless now though, since the principal didn't even have a drop of blood in his brain anymore. "Is there... more of these?"
"Well the principal and Ms. Shrewder, that proud Republican is a good start, but next, the president, then, the world, of course."
"Ella you're fucking insane," Chad said in a shaky voice. "We can't go around killing people for the small stupid decisions they make."
"Oh, yea, we're not gonna kill every single idiot out there, well not yet," Ella explained as she waved the head around with pride. "We start at the top then we work our way down. See how easy it is to get to the principal? With a few more practice killings we might as well book for a flight to DC now."
"I'm getting the fuck out of here," Chad announced, pacing towards the way they came from.
"Not so fast," Ella said calmly, pulling a pistol out of her jacket pocket, pointing at Hedy. "You go and this girl dies."
"Bullshit," Chad called. Ella pulled at the trigger, and Hedy screamed as a bullet shot through her thighs. Chad stopped in his tracks, and Lorenza went to catch the girl as she dropped to her knees, both trying to stop the blood from flowing out.
"Anything else you're gonna call out as bullshit?" Ella asked. She tossed the head at Will, letting him see it up close. "As you can see, I'm not about bullshitting."
Will had a good look at the principal's wrinkled face - his thin lips were curved downwards, slightly parted, his eyelids revealed the maggots underneath already starting to feast on his eyeballs. The boy dropped the head at the sight of the maggots, almost bursting into tears out of fear and disgust.
"Ella, it was all talk, okay?" Lorenza said, her voice a mixture of fear and calm. "We didn't really think of killing anyone. We can stop this right now. Killing is wrong, especially when they didn't do anything to deserve to die. We won't be able to get away with it anyway. We're just five high school kids."
"I didn't think of you as the cowardly type, Lorenza," Ella sighed. "I gotta say, I'm disappointed."
"It's not about being brave, it's about doing the right-"
Another bullet went through Lorenza's forehead, in between her eyes. Hedy screamed again as the body next to her turned limp. Tears started to form as she sobbed. The two boys shook in their places as they glared at Ella in fear. The girl looked away, her hands shaking. Despite being the new girl in town, Lorenza had been the one who let Ella into her circle. For once in her five years of switching schools every few months, Ella felt like she belonged somewhere. Why did Lorenza had to defy her like this? Why couldn't she just accept who Ella was for who she is?
"Bitch was the one who said Principal Gully deserved to die."
once I dreamt of a great adventure
where we fought the demons
that clawed its way
through our souls
we were on our knees
skin smudged with blood and dust
when I woke up
by the sound of morning classes
and dreaded judgement
once I dreamt of a great love story
I watched you pass by on a bicycle
from the inside of a bus
that was our last goodbye
when I woke up
you never left
but you never loved me neither
once I dreamt a tragedy
but the greater fragments
are lost through reality
I do not remember where we were
only that you were there
maybe our desire to live
made us hope
for stories we were told
through pages bound
in between our slumbers
be it fighting demons
or romance turned tragedy
I wish to live a dream
to live
for something more.
you avoid meeting too many people
you don't like noises
and big crowds
when you get attached
you distance yourself
under the mask that you've created
no one will see
the timidness behind it
your scarred and fearful face
then one day someone tries to break it
and the fear that you'll be figured out
turns to anger
to violence
because there are two types of troubling people in this world
the ones who talk too much
and the ones who don't talk enough
when i first met you
i saw sadness in your eyes
in the thin tuffs of hair behind your ears
in your hands of protruding bones
so i made up stories
about fixing you
that would never come true
in between our awkward conversations
i made a world where
he and she shared the stars of the night sky
they shared their daydreams
and whispered love
you would have never cared anyway
when i was leaving
i wrote that he left first
but it didn't matter anyway
there was nothing between us but fiction
then i met him
and saw your sadness
in the tuffs of his hair behind his ears
in his hands of protruding bones
and it is not fair
you are not him.
why do i think about you
when there is nothing to remember
but the world that i created?
of course you would remember the first time you met eyes.
at that time he was no one. he was another person to fill the pores of your skin. then he talked to you with those eyes.
of course you remembered that time he said hi to you at that corridor. it was no big deal; just a hi. but not to you, who felt invisible under the sheets in your bed.
of course you would avoid the road where you two met eyes and waved at each other. of course you felt special. he made you feel like you exist. like he saw you.
he saw nothing.
of course you would be upset to know that he was not who you thought him to be.
of course you would be heavy-hearted to smile at his jokes, or the stories of him your friends tell you.
of course you would be hurt.
of course you would cry.
there is no wrong in being weak; in being human.
it's okay, it's okay.
you can live without him in your life. you don't need him. you don't need anyone to fill your life with greatness; you are the epitome of potential. you were made for lazy nights and ocean waves. and it's okay to want to have someone, but know that that won't destroy you.
it's okay, really. it's fine, you are going to be fine. of course you are.
When we read each other’s hearts and minds, but on the outside we pretend nothing’s going on.
It’s somewhat a secret; a silent joke. We look at each other and we know, but we don’t say a word. What’s left written in black and white, we don’t mix with our colourful world. It’s all too complicated to handle in real life anyway.
We know. But we keep silent. It’s our tiny little secret.
-
the other day it was just me and him in the kitchen waiting for a pizza to cook and I asked him "If you could go overseas, where would you go?" and he said he wanted to go to U.S., specifically, he mentioned New York. "Tau New York tak?" and I nodded, smiling. "Best dowh, kalau pergi New York." before I could ask him what he would do there, a customer came in. and continuously, it was always that; work, people, time. things that stop two people from just talking, dreaming.
-
so i was out with an old friend that i haven’t met in five years and i told her “you wanna know something weird? i love those knives that have that rigged part on the back side” and she was like “yea we saw that in frozen when they cut the ice” and i’m like “yea maybe it has like a better cutting effect like the back-pull will cut the ice more evenly?” and she was like “this is very weird elyna, having preferences to knives” and i just realized that all these while my mother told me that i was weird? it wasn’t our generation gap. it was just me.
-
i wanted to look at the back of his head and his face.. his nose, his eyes, how his eyebrows were slanted and his cheekbones protruding and his square jaw and the lines of his neck and back… but he turned so i had to look away. now all i can remember is the shade of brown of his shoes when he stood next to me.
-
As I reached for the familiar glass bottle filled with dark liquid from the door of my fridge, I started to wonder if all cough syrup addicts start like this. First, it was just to get some sleep. Then, they start getting dependent on it. Soon, they can't pass a day without a bottle full. Maybe this is how I'll start intoxicating my body with medicine I don't need and get into hospitals for over dosage.
But I knew it wasn't gonna happen. Because before I took a spoon of the thick dark liquid (not the pink syrup like I read and had taken when I was younger before we knew it was addictive) I whispered "Bismillah".
Dammit fiction seems so much more interesting than real life. How did my brother do it? It feels like i've been stamped and delivered to the good girls' boarding school for life.
-
I didn't realize what I was really feeling about certain things until I talked about it with her. "I never really understood when those people say they have to put on a mask when they go out," I told her. "I didn't feel like putting on a mask so that everyone else likes you was necessary. But later I find out that putting on a mask doesn't just mean you're pretending to be someone you're not, it's to--"
"--hide what you actually feel," we said simultaneously. Smiling at something like this felt sad. It felt like it was something we can't change, therefore we both agree against frowning about it and smile instead.
I fell in love with the full moon glowing against the indigo sky where the scent of smoke flusters in the air like small deaths kissing your cheeks salt stained
fingertips
and youthful laughter the smell of dewy grass staining your shirt your jeans the sole of your shoes your lungs
dear full moon may we meet again in this world of mine where you don't belong.
It was a thirty minute train ride during peak hours. She caught sight of him as she came down the escalator to the underground area. He wore a baseball shirt and a cap over his eyes. Spectacles, a slight goatee growing on the tip of his long face, standing over a foot above her head. She followed behind him as they got on the train and turned her back on him as soon as she found something to hold on to. It was still hard for her to balance on her two inch heels, so as the crowd went in and out of the train, she found herself holding onto the pole he was holding as well. As each station passed, she swore it would be his stop.
"Subang," she thought. "He seems like a Subang kid. No? Okay."
"Batu Tiga. He won't go any further than this." The boy stood in his place. "Well."
"There's no way he's stopping at Shah Alam too," she thought as the train approaches the next station. The sky was getting dark and it seemed unfit that a girl like her was out alone. "Fuck what other people thinks," she thought. "I'm better off alone anyway."
As the door opens, she starts for it, and notices that boy moving beside her. "No way... What a huge coincidence. Does he notice me? That we're stopping at the same place?"
"Does he feel the same way?"
They pass the ticket inspection and she walked towards the taxi waiting area when the boy approached her. "Hey! Hey you, with the purple shirt!"
She turned, surprised.
"You got a ride home?"
He touched her cheek as soon as he locked the apartment door. She breathed quietly as he bent down, sticking his tongue in her mouth before their lips touched. They made out by the door, his hands touching her from her neck to her shoulders to her breasts to her ass, and as one thumb pressed against her crotch, he unzipped his trousers with his other hand.
"Wait wait wait," she stopped him, letting go of his lips' grasp. "I don't do third base."
"What?"
"I'm keeping my virginity."
"What the fuck for?" he smirked, pulling her skirt's hem playfully. "I know you're wet down there already anyway."
"That's not the point," she said, looking away when he tried to get hold of her lips again.
"Oh come on," he whispered. "It won't hurt, I promise..." He pulled down his trousers to his ankles, busy working on both his boxers and her skirt.
She gave a slightly crooked smile as her hand swiftly reached into her handbag for the butterfly knife. He didn't see anything in the dark and foolishly drooled with joy when he manages to get her skirt down to the ground. In a blink of an eye, the girl pushed the blade into his stomach and pulled it back out. His eyes bulged out, looking at her exasperatedly. She then sliced his throat, blood spluttering on her smooth complexion and the purple blouse and the yellow walls. The body fell on the wooden floorboards underneath them as she sighed.
"Shit. Not again."
She pulled her skirt back on and took off her shoes, peeping around for the kitchen. "Tea, tea, tea, tea..."
After washing her blade and hands clean, she boiled some water and looked for any signs of tea in the cupboards. "Score! And it's the good kind too. Man, that was too bad. I didn't even get to talk to him... Seemed like a nice guy."
She sat next to a window, staring out at the moon. The scent of blood seeped through every room of the small apartment, but she kept her nose by the mug of tea. Quietly sipping her worries away, she thought of all the boys that couldn't keep their dicks in their pants, and then the one guy who wouldn't even look at her, and how she would do anything for him to love her the way he loved that other girl, and her tea turned cold and salty from her tears dripping down her cheeks into the mug, and her hands shook on her lap, and the scent of blood was then accompanied by the quiet sobs of a girl who was never loved.
It's awful because he knows that in a way I'm trying to avoid eye contact with him.
It's awful because he has such a handsome smile.
It's awful because he's not worth the thought.
It's awful... because when I saw him this morning I didn't hate him, I didn't want to avoid him, but in a way I know I ruined it, or I never had a chance at all, and I was so upset I ran away from the world.
extracted from a letter to m.jup dated 18th April 2015.
only the walls have heard
my cries
and only my skin has tasted
my tears
so if you want to know
if i'm happy
ask the walls
and my salt stained skin
and if everything in this world
had mouths
then humans would be the best
at keeping secrets
"You took the train, then walked a bit to your apartment."
"Oh. What day is it?"
"Saturday."
"Kate?"
"We parted with her in the train at a different station. She said she had a good time."
"It's winter break."
"Yes it is."
"How did you get home?"
"I took the train, and walked a bit to your apartment."
"Funny. Where do you live again?"
"Further down town, on Westchester's."
Finally, you look up at my face. Not just glance to make sure who I was like when you first woke up, but actually look at me. My reflection. My mess. The smothered eyeliner and bird's nest of a hair. You looked confused. I wonder if I should explain myself. If I should explain why I bothered so much about what he did and if he would end up okay.
"Someone had to make sure you got home safe. Now stop asking shit and take the aspirin."
Green. Blue. Blue. Shades of last night. You couldn't shut up about Kate and I couldn't shut up about how I longed for you and you were blind and you replied with "I'm blinded by the light in her eyes," and I sighed a white mist out of my mouth and wiped the tears with my free hand and heaved your arm over my shoulder to make sure you didn't fall on the icy cold tar below us. I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to kiss you and the alcohol mixed in your saliva so that I could be as drunk as you, drunk enough to do things without thinking it through, but I was still sober, too sober, that I thought it wouldn't be right for you, because you wouldn't remember a thing, and I wanted you to know how my lips taste like, and not merely just as memories - I wanted you to know them, so I'll wait.
Blue. White. White and black. The lines that sketch our surroundings. You took the shirt off your back without saying a word and headed to the showers. I stood in your room silently, waiting for you to say something but you kept quiet, the shower running steadily, water hitting the tiled floor in a tempo. I waited, until you came out in a towel around your waist, a surprised expression on. I walked out of your room and you said loudly that we're heading out so I decided to wash up at the guest room - a familiar place, unlike his own room. When I look in the mirror, it's terrible to see what I've become in one night. Winter break. Bar party with classmates. It was horrible.
We laughed and drank and talked in loud, rowdy voices as if nothing was wrong when everything was. He looked at her and I looked at him and she looked at the boy with dark blond curls growing down his thick neck and we glanced back to our drinks, letting the rocks hit against the glass, clinkering against each other, eyes subtly saying everything we couldn't say, so no one made eye contact. Little that we know that later the girl would be locking lips with him and I would be there to watch and he would be sighing about his dreams coming true (but they were all lies and I couldn't tell you) and I would be sighing my misery away (but it decided to stay).
I washed up, and when the soap started to get too painful for my eyes I decided it was a sunglasses type of day, and I slipped on a sweater over last night's blouse and jeans and hopefully the coat and scarf was enough to cover up the scent of last night (although it probably reminded me more of how real it was). You were in fresh clothes, looking nothing like last night, except for the dark circles under your eyes, and you wore last night's coat and scarf too, and the lift flashed back memories of me sobbing and you singing while standing against the cold metal casing. But today you stood still and quiet, except for the slow hum of the machine moving and the "Coffee?" that I could only hear because everything else was so quiet. I glanced at your dark eyes for a second and looked away, nodding.
We walked side to side to a place we both knew, closely but not close enough. I wanted to pull his hand closer and lock arms with him but at this point I don't know what he's thinking and although it's probably about Kate I didn't want to give any more impressions that I loved him or anything like that so I ignored the idea. Sitting across from each other in the cafe didn't help, when our knees were almost touching and out feet trying not to knock each other out of the way. Finally we started talking like before and you told me to take off my glasses and although I didn't want to at first I melt at your every word and you tried not to laugh but it's okay because when you laugh I laugh and you're the cutest thing when you do so and I both hate it and love it and you bring out both the darkest and lightest sides of me and I feel miserable knowing you're not mine.
And as we walked back to my place I knew nothing will ever be right but if you walk with me like this everyday maybe I would be miserable but I would be miserable with you and that's fine. Smothered eyeliner and alcohol breaths, were all fine. I would be here and you would be here too. So I gave you a long hug before heading down to my basement apartment, embracing the fact that you are here, now, with me, and not with her, who would eventually break your heart, but I would be there to listen to it shatter.
Green. Blue. White. The colors of your scarf. Black. Black. White. The colors of the night sky. Flashes, flashes. "I'll be fine. See you."
"I'm sorry, but we only allow family members to
visit him at the time being."
Beep.
"Wearehis family members."
"I'm sorry?"
Beep.
Yongguk's sight blurred as he opened his eyelids, the
bright lights on the ceiling blinding him.
Beep.
His eyes caught the shadows of a body in white, dark
brown locks falling over the shoulders. His vision cleared as he blinked a few
times.
"I'm going to have to check on the
doctors..."
"Jieun?"
The girl in white looked down at Yongguk, a look of
surprise in her round, wide eyes. Yongguk's mouth curved at its ends, his thin
lips blue and cracked.
Beep.
"You... Can see me?"
"Why not?" Yongguk asked, breathing slowly.
It hurt a lot, his chest. He felt the hole being covered but it's not filled in
with what used to be flesh. It felt cold and empty, but the bandage helped
slightly. Yongguk tried to move his hand - he tried to hold Jieun's but it was
harder than he thought it would be - and Jieun instinctively held it, coming
closer to the man with a sad smile.
"You're okay." Jieun nodded at Yongguk's
words that sounded more like whispers. "You look so beautiful. You're
okay. You're okay. Okay."
Jieun brought Yongguk's hand up to her face, letting
him hold her face. "You feel cold."
"Must be the air-conditioning." Jieun's
voice cracked slightly.
"Don't cry." It broke Jieun's heart, the
moisture of her eyes threatning to fall over. She held it, breathing in hard to
gain strength. Yongguk's thumb wiped the moisture away.
"So it was worth it."
"What was worth it?"
"Taking the bullet for you."
Jieun gave in to the clear liquid and it ran down her
cheeks, and she sobbed softly, wiping the tears with her other hand. "Yes.
Yes it's worth it."
"You're alive. You're perfect. So
beautiful."
The door to the room clicked open, letting in a tall
blond man and a slightly shorter boy with dark hair following behind. A girl
with dark red hair and dimples was the last to enter, thanking the nurse. The
blond one smiled widely.
"It's about time," Youngjae started, sitting
on the edge of Yongguk's bed. "The others are waiting at the base. The
nurse said you can go back home tomorrow morning, with a few meds."
Youngjae shifted slightly, glancing at Jieun. Jieun looked down at her lap,
letting go of Yongguk's hand.
"Jieun?" Yongguk called, noticing her sudden
uneasiness. The other three looked at each other with confusion.
"Yongguk, are you okay?" Sunhwa asked,
frowning.
"Jieun, how did you get in here?"
Jieun stepped back from Yongguk's bed, not saying
anything.
"Yongguk, what are you talking about?"
Himchan asked.
"How did Jieun get in here?" Yongguk pointed
to where Jieun was, looking at his three friends. Himchan glanced at where
Yongguk pointed, but he wasn't quite looking at where Jieun is. Youngjae looked
at his shoes knowingly. He knew something was weird about the atmosphere.
Something that doesn't belong is here. Yongguk was confused. What is going on?
"Yongguk, Jieun..." Himchan started, looking
at the bed sheets. With a heavy heart, he looked at Yongguk, the smiles from
before gone. "Jieun died that day, remember?"
"What?" Yongguk looked back at where the
girl was, but the shadow of a white dress and dark locks was gone.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
Youngjae looked worryingly at the screen of the
machine by the side of Yongguk's bed. His heartbeat rate is increasing. Sunhwa
came closer to hold Yongguk's hand.
"Yongguk, it's okay. It's going to be okay."
"She was here," Yongguk's voice squeaked
slightly, the tears choking him. "She was here. She held my hand and..
And.. She was okay.. She was so beautiful.."
Sunhwa teared up. "Yes, she was beautiful. She
really was."
Yongguk's heartbeat slowed down.
"Did you see her? Did you see how beautiful she
was?" Yongguk asked, looking at Sunhwa.
"I didn't see her, but I know she's
beautiful."
Yongguk looked back at the ceiling.
"Beautiful."
Himchan and Youngjae looked at each other. They both
sighed. Yongguk has to pull it together if things are to go back as usual. They
both know how much danger they're in right now, and the faster the leader
heals, the better the chances they can get away. But it won't be easy. This is
a huge loss. Not to the rebellion, but to the souls of the members. Jieun held
everyone's heart close to her, and now she had let them go.
Beep.
Yongguk doesn't say anything more, and with everyone's
sorry silence, he dozed off, his eyes closing shut to see Jieun in the
darkness, holding his hand with warmth.
Two black shadows formed on the black tar road of an alleyway. The bodies faced each other, both standing straight, their eyes at the same height, fighting to loom against the other. One was steady - his hair was cropped short and black, his body dirty but comfortable enough. His hands rested by his sides, only his facial expressions playing a role in movement. At first he was surprised when a sudden click was heard from behind him. Then a smirk formed on his face as he turned around, smelling the familiar scent of medicated soap - the smell of The Wires, right after one had been brainwashed. Then his confidence changed to disappointment.
The angular face that hid behind a mass of blond hair was once dirty like his, but now it was white and cleaned out, a set of blue eyes renewing his soul. His clothes was not torn as it was when the man last saw him. One hand held a pistol, shaking as he pointed it at the other. His face revealed his anxiety, his eyes twitching as he struggles to control the way he thought and acted. His stance was strong though, worried that if he shifted the other would take the opportunity to kill him off. He was not gonna let that happen. But he was not sure if he will kill the other, neither.
"I'm disappointed," the unarmed told. And he was; he could not hide it from the way his smile turned down and his eyebrows arched. "I thought you were stronger."
"You don't understand, Yongguk," the blond told, his voice shaking. He spoke what he believed in; or at least what he thinks he believes in. Everything seemed very vague now. What was going on? Who is this guy? He knows who this man is, but he was not sure if he knew him anymore. "The Wires don't take away your soul - they give you true ones. Ones that... That makes you clean. Pure. Don't you want to be pure, Yongguk?"
"Bullshit," Yongguk replied. The other gulped. "And you know it, Himchan. You're in there, somewhere, I know you are. Come back and see what real purity is. Killing children isn't pure. Tearing apart families isn't pure. Taking people's souls away isn't fucking pure. You've heard this a million times over and you know it. The Wires is a conspiracy. And they're pulling their strings on you... Shit, I should've never let you go alone."
Was what he said true? Himchan involuntarily pushed away the thought. "I'm glad you let me go alone. Th-they took me and cared for me and gave me love... Th-that's all you need, Yongguk, love. And you'll see that all of this is nothing but rubbish."
"Love?" Yongguk smirked sadly. "Love. Damn it Himchan. I gave you love but you never took it. And now you're taking it from The Wires? Well fuck you."
Himchan's grasp in the pistol's grip tightened. His other hand curled into a fist, his nails digging into his palms. The pain in his chest bled through his loud thoughts. His eyes throbbed, letting clear liquid drop down his cheeks. He bit his lower lip, trying to control his shaking. He did not want to think anymore. It hurt too much. He knew what was right but his body was tied and it did not move as he wished. His arms and legs felt numb from the thin threads that held them together, keeping them in tact. He traced the cold, metal trigger with his index finger. "I'm sorry."
Yongguk's eyes widen at the sight of the tear, reflecting in the low light. The next thing he knew, two gunshots were heard. Two sharp, cold pieces of metal pierced through his chest. It punctured his lung and he felt the blood rushing into his throat, making him choke and cough. He held his chest as he coughed red liquid onto the black ground below him, drops splattering onto his shoes. He looked up shakily at the blond. Himchan fell on his knees, the barrel of the pistol now on his temple. He sobbed, watching the one person he truly loved die. Yongguk's sight blurred, his body falling on its back as his breathing ceased, the muscles of his body worn out. But before he exhaled his last bloody breath, he heard another gunshot and smirked.
The bathroom echoed painful coughs, her throat feeling rusted and peeled over. She washed her face and started coughing again, the blonde lock of hair that she had swept behind her ear falling over her eyes. Her eyes closed shut as she bent over the sink, feeling her coughs echo through the drainpipe. She scrunched her eyebrows, the fit lasting longer than usual, her lungs giving out for air. She opened her eyes, pausing to take a breath. Her lids widen at the sight of the white sink. It was tinted with blood red liquid, and as she looked up at the mirror in front of her, she observed a similar colour tinting her pale, thin lips. She looked at her bloody palm, and felt tears forming in her sockets. Her heart ached, and she felt the room tumbling down over her body. Her knees grew weak so she let herself fall on the tiled floor, biting her lips. She wanted to cry, she wanted to cry so bad, but her lungs hurt and she felt like coughing again and and her muscles ached for bending for so long and at that moment, she felt like the weakest person on earth. She hugged her knees and hid her face in her arms. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to sleep forever. She doesn't want to know what's wrong. She just wants to go away to a better place. She felt so much agony that she thought maybe it was the last time she would ever feel pain. She felt cold. The cold tiles touching her naked skin, the cold blood in her palm, the coldness running through her blood and bones. She felt cold and numb, and later, she felt nothing. She closed her eyes and fell on her side, and knowing she would wake up later, she prayed to God that He would take her life before that happens.
Kyungsoo watched the cat with awe - each piece of fur a different shade of black, its stomach raising and falling from its breathing. He touched it gently and pushed back its fur. He continuously patted Kkamjong like this, smiling to himself as the cat purred loudly, its eyes closed shut and its mouth a thin line that curved at its cheeks. Kyungsoo enjoyed the silence, but he did wish that he had a human friend instead of a furry one. It gets lonely to live in the city without any close friends to invite you to clubs or parties. Kyungsoo eventually found comfort in taking care of the cat that he had found in an alleyway. It was still a kitten then; black and grey, alone without its mother. Kyungsoo knew that that was the closest he could get to having a best friend.
"Kkamjong!" Kyungsoo called the next day when he got back from work. He had dozed off last night and woke up late for work, so he ignored the fact that the cat was not next to him in his bed anymore. He rushed out of his apartment in his shirt and tie and black slacks, backpack slung over his shoulder, not bothering about the cat's breakfast. His own breakfast had been sacrificed, and as he bit into his Subway sandwich for lunch he remembers the abandoned feline at home and decided that the first thing that he does when he gets home at 5 later was give poor little Kkamjong lots and lots of his favourite canned cat food.
"Kkamjong?" he called again when the cat did not immediately rush to him as usual, brushing back his unruly dark magenta hair. He poked his head into the kitchen door and observed the floor for the black cat, but it was not there. Kyungsoo’s thick eyebrows furrowed as he pinched one end of his lips. He walked to his room and loosened his tie, sitting down on his bed. He looked around and called again, softer this time as if the cat was as close by as he wished it was.
"Kkamjong? Do you want to eat?"
He then looked under his bed, saying loudly "Kkamjong--whoa!"
The boy jumped on his feet at the sight of a thin, long human body with broad shoulders under his bed, strip naked and screamed. "Who the hell are you?!"
The body moved in its place, as if it had just woken up from a deep, long sleep. It then tries to raise its head, a mass of dark hair on the top, but instead gets its hit on the underside of the wooden bed. "Ow!"
Kyungsoo watched as it crawled out, its skin a shade of golden-brown, its nails long and sharp. The head looked up at the early-twenties boy. Its almond shaped eyes were big from confusion, its lips plump and its nose long and slightly crooked at the edge. The black hair fell above its eyes and its eyebrows curved upwards. "S-Soo? What happened?"
"K-Kkamjong?"
The first thing Kyungsoo did was give Kkamjong a pair of old boxers and a T-shirt. He let the boy figure out how to put it over his masculine body itself (it was more fit than Kyungsoo expected, seeing how Kkamjong's daily routine consisted of eating and sleeping) but finally gave in when the boy had his head stuck through the sleeve of the shirt. Kyungsoo thought of Kkamjong’s age; he was almost two years old, and according to the vet he visited once, Kkamjong should be about twenty. Kyungsoo guessed that he looked the age. Kkamjong's stomach started to grumble and Kyungsoo was reminded of how bad an owner he was. His first intention was to give the boy some of its usual cat food, but then wondered if he could still eat that.
Kyungsoo watched Kkamjong from across the circular dining table as he observed the can in his hands (he was still amazed at how much he can move his thumbs) and eventually lowered his head with his tongue stuck out to taste the food. Kyungsoo winced. "Do you like it?"
Kkamjong tongued the food some more to get it out of the can and into his mouth. Kyungsoo laughed at how much effort was put into it. Kkamjong looked up at its owner with annoyance, licking a food stain off the edge of his lips. He was not used to how wet the human mouth is. His tongue had never been so moist. "Is it funny? This human face is too big for me to eat subtly."
"Firstly, you have hands," Kyungsoo started, trying to hold his laughter. "Secondly, humans had created an amazing utensil to help us with these situations."
Kyungsoo stood up and reached for a metal spoon from a drawer. He held it in the air for Kkamjong to see - and he did see, with much curiosity. "This is a spoon. We use it to pick up food without getting our hands dirty. Here, try it."
Kkamjong reached out to take the spoon from Kyungsoo's offering hand. He adjusted his fingers on the cold metal as he had seen Kyungsoo held it, and awkwardly placed it into the can. Kyungsoo watched as he tried to manoeuvre the odd new discovery. How did this happen, exactly? He had just thought of having an actual human friend instead of a cat last night and here he was; strip naked and language-comprehending, as if sent from the heavens.
"Kyungsoo?" Kkamjong called, and then released a burp. He winced, gulping the gassy air. "It's finished."
"Wow, you've got an appetite." Kyungsoo took the can and spoon off Kkamjong's hands and walked towards the sink. He dropped the can into the disposal bin and washed the spoon with a soapy sponge.
"Hey Soo?" Kkamjong called. "How did I turn into a human?"
"I don't know," Kyungsoo said over the running water. He shut it off and turned towards the other. "Maybe it's magic," he joked.
"No, see, thing is, just last night I thought it would be so much better if I was human. At least I could talk to you. You don't talk a lot although I know you want to."
Kyungsoo kept quiet. He was not one to talk about his feelings. Especially when he is not even sure of what is going on. He kept quiet and watched the handsome face talk and look up at him. So what if they had the same thought? Having the same thought again - that things were better when Kkamjong was a cat - would not only be impossible since the other seems to have a ball being human, but it also probably would not even work anyway.
"The issue here is, how do we fix things?"
"Fix things?" Kkamjong repeated. "What is there to fix? I've got all I wanted. Kyungsoo, I can be your friend!"
But you already were, was what first came into Kyungsoo's mind, but he does not say it. "This is just gonna bring trouble. I don't exactly have time to train you to become human, nor can I afford to take care of another person other than myself. It's my life that's on the line here."
The excitement in Kkamjong's eyes died out slowly, and Kyungsoo felt immediate guilt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have wanted to be human. I didn't think it would be such a burden."
Kyungsoo made his way towards the taller boy and patted his head, the way he would have if Kkamjong was still a cat. Kkamjong raised his nose to sniff the hand, and then let it scratch the side of his head. He shut its eyes with much contentment. He imagined purring, but things felt a lot different in a human's body. He still had the senses of a cat, but it did not suit the mechanics of a human. Kkamjong had the sudden urge to lick his paws, no, hands. He moves away from Kyungsoo's hand, eyes still shut, and starts licking the back side of his hand. Kyungsoo chuckled, thinking how funny it looked when a human does it in contrast to a cat. When the feline does it, he thought it looked ordinary (he would say it looked cute, but when is a cat not cute?) but when Kkamjong does it, it looks as if Kkamjong came from the wild. Kyungsoo could not help but think that the fact that Kkamjong had a really good looking face made things look less uncivilized.
That night, Kyungsoo taught Kkamjong how to cook ramyeon. The week's supply to feed the cat had been finished off, and Kyungsoo did not want Kkamjong to starve himself while he was at work. He told Kkamjong what could be eaten raw and what should be cooked first - Kkamjong settled that the have-to-be-cooked items were the same as the not-to-be-eaten items - and taught him how to pour himself a drink. Kkamjong was a fast learner, but at around 11PM, he was already yawning. Kyungsoo had a feeling he was still going to be as lazy as he had always been. No luck in getting him to do chores, Kyungsoo thought to himself. The best thing you could teach him is how to not make a mess.
The next day, Kyungsoo let the boy sleep in and went off to work silently, a PB&J sandwich in his mouth. He spent his working hours fidgeting every once in awhile; praying Kkamjong had not put the apartment on fire. He bought burgers for dinner and said a silent thank you to God when he saw the apartment building still standing. He walked into his apartment and saw the boy sleeping in the couch in front of the loud TV, traces of food wrappers and empty glasses stacked up on the floor. Kyungsoo did not know what to expect; he really does only eat and sleep all day. He woke Kkamjong gently, but the boy only rolled in the sofa, hiding his face into the cushions. His body curled in, one arm was over his head. Kyungsoo briefly remembers the cat version of this position. He shook the boy harder this time, telling him to wake up.
"I bought burgers for dinner," he offered. The boy's head turned, his eyes half-closed. "You like burgers?"
"What's that?" Kkamjong's breath smelled of preservatives and sauce.
"You smell weird. How much ramyeon did you eat?"
"Ugh I don't know," the boy replied, rubbing his stomach. "Maybe a bit too much. I don't feel so well."
Kyungsoo rushed to the kitchen and checked the drawers. There were two packets left. He dug his hand into the disposal bin, his face scrunched up in disgust. One by one, he pulled out empty ramyeon packets. "You ate seven packets?!"
"Seven? How do you know?" Kkamjong walked into the kitchen, one hand rubbing his eyes, the other still holding onto his hurting stomach.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven," Kyungsoo counted as he lifted the packets one by one at Kkamjong's face. Kkamjong only looked with amusement.
"You need to teach me that."
"Teach you what?"
"One, two, four, seven, five..."
"Counting?"
"Yea, that. It could come in handy."
So Kyungsoo did. That night they ate their burgers and went over numbers from zero to a hundred. Before he slept, Kyungsoo made Kkamjong recite the numbers again and it did so smoothly, yawning in between numbers. Kyungsoo felt proud and patted the cat to sleep, covering his own mouth as he yawned. The next thing he knew, he felt something heavy on his chest.
"Soo!"
Kyungsoo's vivid dream abruptly came to an end - from bright neon colours backed with pitch black scenery, his sight changed to a bright light shining through his eyelids, the cream colour of his bedroom walls behind it. Then, the light was blocked off by Kkamjong’s shadow. He pressed onto Kyungsoo’s chest as he usually did as a cat, only now his palms were too big and hurt Kyungsoo more than needed.
"Soo! How do I take a shit?!"
Kyungsoo felt laughter coming up his throat but instead he got on his feet and opened the toilet door, showing Kkamjong (who's boxers were already halfway down its long legs, his feet jumping from the left to the right, trying to hold the urge in) the toilet seat and how to flush after he is done and reminded him to clean his butthole with water instead of his tongue as he closed the door, leaving the boy to his privacy. He chucked to himself, his shoulders shaking up and down and his smile reaching his ears. He rubbed his eyes and checked the time. Past 5AM. There is still time to take a nap, so he did.
---
Kkamjong was bored one fine day as he flipped through the channels, re-runs of shows that made jokes which made no sense to him (must be a human thing, he thought) so he trashed Kyungsoo's wardrobe for new boxers and a fresh tee. He picked up a pair of Jeans and wondered how those worked. He put his arm into one of the holes, but it was too short to reach the other end. He then remembers Kyungsoo putting one something that looked similar to these, and slid his legs into the holes instead. It hung above Kkamjong's ankles - a bit too short for him - but he looked at his own reflection and felt satisfied. He trashed through Kyungsoo's magazines, not understanding a thing but the pictures of cars (Kkamjong feared these as a kitten, but he rarely goes out to meet these anymore) and the numbers. Every time he saw a number he would say it out loud. "Thirty two!" "Four thousand two hundred!" "Twenty eight thousand!"
"Wow, this number has a lot of zeros. What's after hundred thousand?" Kkamjong often spoke to himself when Kyungsoo was not around. He found the urge to talk although no one is around fascinating, as cats do not usually speak unless humans were around to hear them, or when another cat just crossed territory.
His counting classes had continued since the first class, and Kyungsoo had thought him up to hundred thousand and decimals and how to add and subtract. He anticipated learning fractions, which Kyungsoo said would be the next class. Maths, he learned was the name of this lesson he took, made him feel good - it made him feel smart, as if he was actually using his brain. He also used it as an excuse to never bring up the topic of 'fixing things'. He liked it like this. He liked talking to Kyungsoo. He liked having thumbs, although his sharp nails hurt his exposed skin now. And most of all, he liked making Kyungsoo smile. He looked happier than usual.
Kyungsoo got home late, and by then Kkamjong had already fell asleep in his bedroom, leaving empty soda cans scattered in front of the TV. Kyungsoo switched it off before heading towards the kitchen. When he did not find the boy, the only place left was his room.
"Kkamjong!" Kyungsoo shouted. The tall boy jumped in his placed, blinking as he got up.
"Soo? You're finally home... I'm hungry!"
"Do you know how much that T-shirt cost me? Take it off!" Kyungsoo rushed towards the taller and pulled the shirt off him. Kkamjong did not resist, although he was very much confused.
"How much did it cost?"
"A lot!" Kyungsoo told, his eyebrows scrunching at the top of his nose bridge as he stared with his wide eyes at Kkamjong accusingly, as if a child who just got his candy stolen. He raised the shirt to his nose and sniffed it. "Did you even shower before you wore this?"
"Shower?" Kkamjong asked.
"Take off your boxers and get into the bathroom!" Kyungsoo told with a loud voice, throwing the shirt into the laundry basket. This was the first time Kkamjong heard Kyungsoo raise his voice about anything other than maths. Still, he obeyed, his lips pouting slightly. Kyungsoo took off his tie and pushed the taller under the shower head. He turned it on and Kkamjong shivered. He shook his head, causing droplets to fall on Kyungsoo’s face. He patiently wiped it off and told the boy to clean himself with the soap. He showed which bottle had liquid he should use for his hair.
"Shower with me?" Kkamjong grinned, hoping to make Kyungsoo less angry. Kyungsoo slammed the toilet door behind him.
---
It was a Sunday morning when Kyungsoo was counting the cash in his wallet. Kkamjong was in the living room, flipping through channels again. He did not have more than 20 bucks. Ramyeon for dinner it is, again. He sighed and thought of how much Kkamjong is costing him. He eats more than Kyungsoo does - in fact Kyungsoo used to skip meals whenever he felt too bummed out to eat or when he is not hungry - but now he eats every time Kkamjong eats. He used to spend less than 10 bucks for a week's meal for the cat. Now it is costing him 50 bucks a week.
Kkamjong felt bored of the TV and jumped off the sofa. He walked towards Kyungsoo. "Whatcha doing?"
"Nothing," Kyungsoo mumbled, keeping his wallet in his pocket. He stood up from his seat and moved away from the boy. Kkamjong pouted as the other propped himself on the sofa.
"I feel fat recently," Kkamjong told, standing over Kyungsoo's body, blocking his view of the TV.
"That's because you eat so much but don't do anything."
"Let's go to this 'gym' I've heard about. You lose weight there?"
Kyungsoo cringed at the idea. A gym is not really his scene. He preferred not eating than to exercise to keep a healthy weight. He walks to the commuter station on the way to work daily anyway. He considered that exercise. "How ‘bout not. I'd like to get back a fat cat. They're cuddlier."
"Come on, Soo. I'm bored."
"No. Move. I can't see the TV."
Kkamjong frowned and decided to slip one of his arms under Kyungsoo's, and the other arm under his knees. He lifted the boy up.
"What are you doing?!" Kyungsoo shouted, his fingers clinging onto Kkamjong's shirt, scared he would fall. "Let me go!"
"Remember when you used to carry me like this?" Kkamjong smiled mischievously. He took the boy to an empty space and started doing squats. "If this is the only way I can get some exercise, I'm gonna do it. I don't want to grow fat!"
"Kkamjong!"
"...five, six, seven..."
"Kkamjong please!"
The other continued counting and squatting, ignoring the other’s pleads.
"Okay fine, I'll bring you to the gym!"
A smile curved onto Kkamjong's face and he released his hold on Kyungsoo, letting the boy fall on his back. "I love you, Do Kyungsoo!"
"Yea, whatever. Now go get some pants on."
The city amazed Kkamjong. He had never had the chance to explore the streets without being afraid of being either stepped on or run over but now he is human – he is taller than his own owner, even - and he can definitely push aside bodies that were in his way instead of having to slit through human’s legs all the time. He looked up at the skyscrapers and the light blue sky that backed them, spotted white of clouds. He observed the rush of people on the streets, heading to various places with various speeds. It fascinated him - the mixture of colours seemed naturally scattered. He tried to take in every detail; even the sooty air and the loud noise of honking cars and people chattering away. Kyungsoo had tied a thick string to his wrist, which was attached to his own. Kyungsoo did not want to seem like he was babysitting an adult, but he did not want to risk losing the curious boy in the crowd neither. His eyes glance at his other hand which held a bag of old shirts and toiletries. Kyungsoo felt like a babysitter either way.
A shop with a bright neon sign and glass walls caught Kkamjong's attention, making him stop in his tracks. Inside were shelves of colourful wrappers, pictures of food Kkamjong had never imagined eating plastered over bold words. Kyungsoo almost tripped when one of his hands pulled him back. He walked towards Kkamjong and followed his gaze. He sighed and let the boy watch it for awhile. A sign by the window sill caught his attention.
"Part-timer needed," Kyungsoo read out loud. Kkamjong turned to the boy, snapping out of his drool-filled daydream.
"What?"
Kyungsoo looked up at the taller with wide eyes. "Hmm? Oh nothing, they're just saying they're hiring a part-timer."
"What's a part-timer?"
"People who work in short shifts instead of long hours, to put it simply." Kyungsoo pulled on the string on his wrist. "Come on. We don't have all day."
Kkamjong enjoyed himself at the gym more than Kyungsoo did; lifting weights and running the treadmill. He missed the rush of adrenaline - although it was not the same as jumping on roofs. Kyungsoo spent most of his time playing a video game on his phone in between helping Kkamjong it with the gym equipments. Kkamjong smiled at the giggling girls who pass by, and Kyungsoo only rolled his eyes. Of course my cat would get more girls than me, he thought.
The next day, when Kyungsoo went to work, Kkamjong slipped on a pair of trousers and a collared tee. He smelled himself and decided to put on some Cologne. The strong perfume made him sneeze. He combed his hair with his fingers, noticing his long nails. Should he cut them? Hmm.
He ignored the long nails, worried he would be late (although he could only tell time by day and night; probably he wouldn't want to be too close to night time) and rushed out of the house, making sure everything is locked and that he had a chain of keys for himself. He made his way to the shop he remembered that needed a 'part-timer'. Thanks to his sense of smell, he remembered the way clearly. Soon he was in front of the shop, still trying to hold in his drool at seeing the amount of food inside.
When Kyungsoo got home, Kkamjong was still in the too-short trousers and collared tee, counting some coins and paper money on the floor.
"What are you wearing? And what's that?"
Kkamjong smiled proudly and held all the coins with both hands, raising it above his head. "Money!"
Kyungsoo walked toward the boy curiously, squatting in front of him. "Where did you get it?"
"The part-timer-needed shop!"
"You robbed a convenience store?!"
"No," Kkamjong said slowly. "I worked! Like you!"
"You worked?" Kyungsoo asked, confused.
"Yea, as a part-timer. The old guy said he assumed I knew how to count, and I did, because you taught me, then he showed me the cash register and taught me how to work it and I've worked there for four hours and got seventy-two dollars and ninety five cents!" Kkamjong raised the coins again.
"You went out of the house without telling me!" Kyungsoo frowned.
"Yea, but well, I got home, and with money, and I didn't get lost-"
"You should've said something!" Kyungsoo felt like a stupid parent, holding his forehead with his palms. "God, I shouldn't have let you out of the house. What were you thinking? He didn't ask for identification? For all you know, the guy could've cheated you for slavery!"
"But he didn't-"
"Why do you wanna work anyway? What's so fascinating about all this money, huh?" Kyungsoo slapped the coins off Kkamjong's hands, letting the small pieces of metal clatter on the tiled floor. Kkamjong watched Kyungsoo stand up walk away.
"But I didn't wanna be a burden, so I thought it would help out..."
Kyungsoo turned towards the boy, his face serious, but his voice full of care. "Stop trying to help. You're a burden I decided to take."
Ever since then, Kyungsoo brought the extra chain of keys with him to work, slipping it into his backpack. Kkamjong did not have to look for it - he knew Kyungsoo would have done something to make sure he did not go out again. Kkamjong felt trapped and slept more than he usually does. Kyungsoo would call him for dinner but he would not wake up; not until Kyungsoo pushes him off the sofa after eating alone. Then Kkamjong would shuffle through the fridge and cupboards of the kitchen before leaving for the bedroom to sleep again. Kyungsoo would only sigh. He does not even wanna learn maths again.
"Why do you treat me like a cat even though I'm clearly a human now?" Kkamjong asked one night. He could not sleep and Kyungsoo was about to push him off the bed.
You're more like a kid, honestly, Kyungsoo thought. "Because there's a possibility you're gonna turn into a cat again and I don't want you to act like a human in a cat's body."
"You say it so easily," Kkamjong sighed, turning to his side. Kyungsoo frowned.
"Say what so easily?"
"That I might turn into a cat again. Don't you like it that I'm human now? Don't you want someone to talk to?"
Kyungsoo sighed. He thought it would be nice, but now Kkamjong is being more of the thing he wanted to talk about rather than someone he wanted to talk to. "I'm sorry."
Kkamjong turned to the boy. "Why?"
"Am I sorry? I don't know. Because I hurt your feelings?"
Kkamjong sat up, looking straight into Kyungsoo's eyes. "Tell me. Do I look human?"
"Yes."
"I can count like a human, right?"
"Yea."
"And I have feelings like a human."
"I guess so."
"Then I'm human."
"No, you’re not."
"Why not?"
"Because," Kyungsoo sighed, his legs tired of standing by his own bed. Why can't he just sleep? The bed is right there in front of him, yet he has to deal with this. "Things aren't that simple. I mean, who has a name like Kkamjong?"
"Then give me a human name!" Kkamjong argued, pouting. Kyungsoo pushed him aside and lied on his bed, face buried in his pillow. He was exhausted, and Kkamjong was not helping. He peered up and saw Kkamjong frowning at him. He cannot sleep like this.
"Jongin."
"What?" Kkamjong asked, surprised to hear even a muffle from the other.
"Jongin," Kyungsoo repeated, turning to face the ceiling. "should be your human name."
Kkamjong grinned, then let himself fall next to Kyungsoo. "Jongin," he repeated. "Jongin, Jongin, Jongin."
"Yea, tire yourself out," Kyungsoo mumbled before dozing off.
Kkamjong felt more human than he ever had. He pushed his head into Kyungsoo's mass of hair, smiling widely. He slipped his arms around the other's waist and closed his eyes. "Goodnight, Do Kyungsoo. I love you."
---
The next morning, Kkamjong was already awake and in front of the TV after Kyungsoo got ready to go to work. He peered at the sofa curiously, and the boy looked up at him. He ignored Kkamjong and ate some breakfast, then grabbed his backpack and went to the door. "I'm leaving, Kkamjong."
"Jongin."
"What?"
"My human name's Jongin, remember?" Kkamjong peered over the sofa.
"Right. Jongin. I'm leaving. Don't burn the house down." Kkamjong took it as Kyungsoo saying "take care".
Kkamjong had learned a lot about Kyungsoo, but most of all he had learned that Kyungsoo had a very hard head. If he wanted to do something, he would do it and Kkamjong cannot stop him. Well, he is Kkamjong's owner after all. Kyungsoo occasionally gives in to Kkamjong, like the night he gave him his human name. But he still does not let Kkamjong go to work and he has not spent a single cent of the money Kkamjong had earned. He kept it in a drawer of a table in the living room, and they never caught sight of the money every again. It was not easy, living for two on the minimum wage of one person. Kkamjong felt sorry for Kyungsoo, and he tries to cut down on his meal proportions, but Kyungsoo still brings home dinner five days a week and insists the boy to finish it up. "It’s either you or the rats, and I don't want to end up feeding pests."
Kyungsoo could only lie on his bed when he got home from working overtime to pay the rent. Kkamjong squatted by the bed and watched Kyungsoo with guilt. Kyungsoo looked up and said "If you were still a cat, I'd call you to come on bed to sleep next to me."
"Can't I do that now?" Kkamjong asked, pushing Kyungsoo softly to move aside. Kyungsoo did not budge.
"You're too fat now."
Kkamjong knew Kyungsoo was kidding, but he still puffed up his cheeks with annoyance. He then decided to lie down on the smaller body, his back touching the other’s back. "Am I? Am I fat?"
"Hey!" Kyungsoo laughed. "Get off!"
"Tell me I'm fat one more time!" Kkamjong threatened.
"You're fat as hell!"
"Ahh, this need is so comfy ~" Kkamjong sighed, turning so that his chest faced down, then squeezed Kyungsoo by the neck. Kyungsoo laughed and pushed the other off his back, leaving the boy lying next to him. They both laughed, and Kkamjong let his head fall on the pillow.
"You look better smiling like this," he told. Kyungsoo stifled his laughter. "Even better that I made you laugh. I could never make you laugh as a cat."
"You still made me smile," Kyungsoo defended. "All the time."
"Don't you like me like this though?" Kkamjong briefly remembers Kyungsoo coming home exhausted, glancing at him as he meowed for food, but only getting a sigh and "Later, Kkamjong" or "Not now, Kkamjong". He could not even do anything to make him feel better. He wanted Kyungsoo's attention, but at those times, he could only sleep at the boy's feet for warmth.
"I like you whichever way you were," Kyungsoo told. "You're my Kkamjong after all."
Kkamjong brushed his nose against Kyungsoo's cheeks and Kyungsoo smiled, combing back the boy's hair. Kkamjong closed his eyes in pleasure and rolled on his back.
"Am I supposed to scratch your ear too?"
Kkamjong kept silent. Kyungsoo assumed he would be purring of he was a cat. He watched the face, smiling. He remembered watching the cat in the same position as he scratched his pointed ears. He looked so majestic - and he still does. Kyungsoo went closer to the boy and touched the boy's lips with his own. Kkamjong's eyes flickered open, and they stared into each other's eyes.
"Is it because I'm human?" Kkamjong asked after awhile.
"No," Kyungsoo told, his voice soft. "It's because I love you."
"I love you too, Do Kyungsoo."
---
The next morning, Kyungsoo woke up slowly, his eyelids lazily separating itself. He breathed slowly and remembered last night; the first time he kissed Kkamjong. He touched his lips and thought, is it weird? To kiss a cat? But Kkamjong was, physically, a human last night and he did love him. So it’s okay?
Kyungsoo turned to his side and saw a black tail swishing in the air. His eyes widen. He got up and observed the black cat. It was breathing slowly, its stomach moving up and down. Its eyes were shut close and it purred - really loudly. Kyungsoo touched the cat and its eyes slowly opened. It blinked then closed its eyelids back again.
"Kkamjong!" Kyungsoo whispered to himself. He felt his eyes moisten. Images of human Kkamjong flashed across his mind and he realized that he will never see that Kkamjong ever again. He felt his heart tugging at his chest, but held in the pain. He wiped his tears away with his palm and took the cat with his hands, placing it on his chest. The cat's golden eyes were wide with anger. It meowed at Kyungsoo and patted Kyungsoo's face with its paw. Kyungsoo noticed the blunt nails.
“You cut your nails!” Kyungsoo exclaimed, taking the paw and pressing it, observing the odd nails. "And you gained some weight, huh?"
