Title: He Who Never Comes Home
Pairing: Jongin/Kyungsoo
Rating: M
Genre: Smut, Angst

Warnings: Sex, Drama, Implied Character Death

Summary: Jongin once thought that if he could fly, he would take Kyungsoo there so they could lay down on th cottony texture of the clouds as they dream about more impossible things.

*

The air is crisp, the sun shines brightly behind the fluffy blue skies. Jongin once thought that if he could fly, he would take Kyungsoo there so they could lay down on th cottony texture of the clouds as they dream about more impossible things.

He smiles, inhaling the sweet breeze of the field that comforts him today.

It smells like home.

"Kyungsoo, I'm coming home."

*

"Jongin."

Jongin looks up from his cold cup of coffee, seeing an old friend of his peeking behind the door of his dark apartment unit. Minseok lowers his eyes and sighs, feeling a surge of empathy in his heart witnessing his once cheerful friend's situation. He has dark rings under his bloodshot-eyes, long unruly hair, unshaved hairs on his face.

He looks so wrecked.

Carefully, Minseok lets himself in and sits in front of Jongin. He pulls out an envelope from his bag, putting it on the table. Jongin doesn't say anything, he's too tired to say something.

"It has been five years," the older mutters. "Since he left."

Jongin nods.

"Here."

"What is it?" Jongin's voice sounds raspy due to lack of use for a long time.

"From Kyungsoo."

His heart thumps rapidly hearing his name.

"He's getting married....to a composer."

And it gradually breaks into little pieces.

"He wants you to come."

Trembling fingers reach for the envelope, swiping the gold letters embossed at the cover. Jongin lips curve upward into a bitter smile, thinking he should be that man written beside Kyungsoo's name.

But it isn't.

It will never be.

"You don't have to come if you can't. I'll just tell him you're busy."

"No. I'll come."

Minseok is taken aback by his answer but doesn't say anything as he quietly leaves. Jongin stares for a good minute at the invitation and closes his eyes.

He can't cry.

He has had enough to cry.

"Kyungsoo, I'll see you again."

*

Jongin wakes up to the chirping of the birds outside, and he opens his eyes, feeling the right side of the bed now left cold.

Kyungsoo is gone.

"Kyungsoo?" he calls, looking around the place in bemusement. Silence answers him as he trudges into the living room, wearing his shirt and pants on the way. "Kyungsoo?"

No lemony scent of dish-washing liquid nor the coffee aroma greeted him just as soon as he navigates the kitchen, and Jongin is left thinking to himself where could be his lover have gone. He swallows the heavy lump on his throat when he finds a note pasted on the refrigerator, shaking hands reaching for it as he tries to stand.

He didn't leave, did he?

Jongin opens the note.

My dear Jongin.

He chokes out a sob.

I love you so much, and I know you always know that. But you know how much I love my dream, and my dream is to become a singer.

Not a husband of an anonymous artist.

I will never come home again.

I'm sorry.

- Kyungsoo.

Jongin stares at the paper for about a matter of seconds, waiting for the information to sink in into his brain.

Kyungsoo is gone.

He left.

He loves him.

But he will never come back home.

The ache creeps slowly into his veins up to his heart, piercing it painstakingly. He feels like as if he were being stabbed in the chest repeatedly, and his lungs are constricting. He can't breathe.

It fucking hurts so much. He doesn't feel anything but pain and hurt at the same time, causing his eyes to well up in silent tears. He loves him, he gave everything for him but still, Kyungsoo left him for his dream. Asking himself what he did wrong, where is he lacking, why did he leave like this, how is he not enough, flood Jongin's mind.

He doesn't know the answers.

What are the answers.

He doesn't know.

"W-why.." Jongin crumples the tear-blotched paper with his fist, and sits on the dining chair, his body shaking as he cries. "K-kyungsoo, why?"

Silence.

Looking around the sullen place, he grabs his coat and searches for his keys.

The apartment is cold when Jongin leaves, and when he comes back, it is colder yet again.

*

Moans escape Kyungsoo's lips as the man above him thrust into him hard enough to make him arch his back. Clawing the sheets for dear life, Kyungsoo clenches his eyes shut and tastes the saltiness of the liquid on his lips. A hand holds his cock, stroking him into completion for the sake of reaching his edge first before him, and it almost had Kyungsoo's heart squeezing. Almost.

He gasps and spills his load into his lover's hand, shuddering in pleasure which he's going to remember or either forget anytime soon.

Breathing hard, Kyungsoo throws his head back and opens his eyes. He hears him say his name, and it's so beautiful he wants to hear it again.

Jongin says his name.

He says his name.

"Kyungsoo."

And he comes.

Kyungsoo shoots up on the bed and pushes off the heavy lump on top of him, blindly searching for his clothes inside the dark room. He listens to Jongin's steady breathing as he bites back the tears threatening to escape from his eyes. He doesn't expect that it would hurt so much like this, but he ignores the pang in his heart and wears his shoes in haste, before taking on his coat that is supposed to make him warm.

It still feels so cold.

"Goodbye, Jongin..."

The door closes with a silent click.

*

Dating Do Kyungsoo must be one of the amazing things Jongin could say he has right now, and he has nothing more to ask ever since he held his hand, kissed his lips, and made love to him for the first time.

It still feels like brand new.

"Thank you," he says to the young lady who hands him white roses before he walks out of the flower shop with a delighted heart.

It's their anniversary and he shouldn't be late.

Opening their shared apartment, Jongin toes off his shoes and pads into the living room, the scent of beef stew welcoming his nose enough to make his stomach grumble. He puts the flowers on top of the table and wraps two arms around the individual wearing an apron that is too girly for him.

He smiles.

"Happy birthday."

Kyungsoo laughs. "It's not our birthday, silly."

"Happy Halloween?"

"I'm going to burn you," his boyfriend jokes as he pulls his head down for a sweet kiss. Jongin chuckles, before kissing him deeply involving tongues and teeth.

They make love on their bedroom, and Jongin is more than willing to comply his lover's wishes as he travels his hands along that heated body, marking everything as his own that his mouth could reach. Kyungsoo laughs heartily when Jongin bumps his head on the edge of the bed, searching for the bottle of lube that rolled its way on the floor when it slipped Jongin's clumsy hands excited to touch his lover's sexy ass.

No minute is wasted and Jongin is fucking Kyungsoo hard against the mattress, and there's no single noise that can be heard aside from the creaking of the bed and their heavy moans. Jongin climaxes with his lover's name on his lips, while Kyungsoo cries in ecstasy alone.

"I love you."

Kyungsoo looks away.

"I-I love you, too."

Pressing a kiss against his forehead, Jongin smiles lovingly at his lover before drifting off to a sound slumber.

Kyungsoo hugs him from behind, but he doesn't sleep that night.

"I'm sorry..."

*

The library has been his sanctuary, the books have been  his comforters, and the beautiful doe-eyed boy sitting by the window has always been his muse. His muse to paint wonderful paintings that express love, devotion, and beauty.

He stares down at his sketchpad and begins to draw.

Red heart-shaped lips, smooth plump cheeks and delicate round eyes perfected his face, and it has Jongin's eyes, as well as his heart captured for an agonizing year.

It has been three hundred sixty-five days, and he hasn't talked to him yet, contented just by stealing precious glances from a far. A friendly pat on his back, and Jongin's heart speeds up inside his chest, turning to look at his companion's encouraging smile.

He puts down his sketchpad and breathes. He musters all the courage he has in his entire life so far, and walks with an extra skip on his step towards the beautiful male's general direction.

"Okay."

Jongin breaks into a million-dollar smile and shyly asks for his number, awkwardly scrambling on his pockets to find something to write on, and it turns out to be a crumpled tissue from his favorite pizza parlor.

"I-I'll call you..."

At least he got his number.

"I'll wait for it."

*

Ever since he was a child, Kyungsoo already knows he is born a singer. He is born to show the world his talent, to show the people how amazing his voice is, to show music how he loves it, to show everyone his existence except from his parents who never recognized his passion.

He would sing in his room at night when his parents are asleep, and that's the only time his heart feels so free, like clouds floating up above the skies.

He sings with all his heart like no one else matters.

At school he studies music secretly, at the library by the window when he thinks no one is watching him. Humming a tune under his breath, he gets his music sheets and starts to write notes, and rests, and sharps, and g-clefs, scribbling hearts on the margin when he gets flustered by the stare of a handsome guy from a far.

Kyungsoo pretends he isn't affected by his presence, pretends his heart isn't skipping a beat when he's around, pretends he isn't happy when he asks him his number.

"I-I'll call you..."

Kyungsoo smiles, heart doing somersaults inside his belly.

"I'll wait for it."

*

Jongin stares at his reflection on the mirror, seeing an anonymous person he doesn't recognize.

"Who are you?"

It is staring back at him, dark red eyes, long face, messy hair. It scares him but he can't run away. He knows he can't escape.

Because he knows it will follow him jus as soon as he leaves this place.

It has been five years since he left.

He's getting married to a composer.

No. I'll come.

Opening the medicine cabinet, he rummages through it and searches for a particular white bottle stashed away for emergency uses.

Jongin just wants to sleep.

He wants to rest.

He's tired for the day.

His eyes widen in recognition when he finds what he's been looking for. Shaking it, he pours the contents in his quivering palm and blinks.

Blue. Red. Orange. Yellow. White. Green. Pink. Brown pills.

He'll just have to take them all.

He wants to sleep right now so that he will have lots of energy when he sees Kyungsoo.

"I'll fix myself up after I wake up," Jongin mutters to himself silently as he stares at the pills in his hands. He glances at the invitation perched on the sink.

"So I could have my haircut tomorrow for your wedding. Or maybe shop new clothes."

Jongin smiles for the last time and swallows the medicines in one go. Drinking a glass of water, he pads towards his room and tucks himself on his unmade bed.

He closes his eyes.

"Good night."

And all goes pitch black.

The thing Jongin forgot to do tomorrow morning is to get his haircut done, and buy new clothes for Kyungsoo's wedding.

Because he didn't get the chance to wake up in the first place.

The air is crisp, the sun shines brightly behind the fluffy blue skies. Jongin once thought that if he could fly, he would take Kyungsoo there so they could lay down on the cottony texture of the clouds as they dream about more impossible things.

He smiles, inhaling the sweet breeze of the field that comforts him today.

It smells like home.

"Kyungsoo, I'm coming home."

*

END