Genre: AU, angst, romance
Raiting: R| 1613words
Hyukjae finds love in cupidity.
Hyukjae thinks that living as nothing would maybe help him survive. To live with his hands behind the back of his soul, without thinking of what people could think and see or maybe hear, would help him keep his feet onto the ground.
So he spends his nights in rooftops, trying to count the stars from behind his eyelashes, wondering why the sky should be black and not white, and the weather cold and not hot.
There were times when he would find Junsu by his side, munching on his sugar pellets and scolding him about some things that he doesn’t even remember.
“Are you seriously giving up on your job, just like this?” Junsu says with his red mouth and reaches for a napkin to clean his sugared chin. “Because Hyukjae, you’re a doctor! You’re supposed to save people’s lives and not do whatever the hell you’re doing right now,”
“No,” Hyukjae says and smiles at the sight of a shooting star “Make a wish, Junsu!”
Junsu sighs and kneels down beside him, holding his shoulders and smiling sadly into the smocking air of November, “Hyukjae, wake up,” He says and almost cries when Hyukjae gives him a dead look and laughs quietly.
“They would die anyway, why should we save them?”
Because, because. Junsu wants to say but doesn’t find reasons, because they just need to live Hyukjae, they need to breathe and feel. Because they need to fall down on staircases and get up again to follow their ways, because Hyukjae you need to find your own reasons.
But Hyukjae doesn’t listen to his blabbers because he knows that people are cupid, and that more is the only word that satisfies their needs.
“I did my best, I’m sorry,” Hyukjae says as he stands up after stopping the cardiac massage, and reaches for his gloves.
“Wait up, what-what?” An aged woman says with wrinkles and tears and Hyukjae sighs.
“Your son has been suffering from a cancer in his intestines since months ago and the accident made it worse, his body didn’t respond to our treatments either, I guess that it was already shocking for him to-“
“Are you an evil?” She says as she tries to remember how to breathe again.
ldquo;Excuse me?” Because it wasn’t normal for someone to insult him for something that he never did, for something that he wouldn’t be able to remember with time anyway.
“You’ve killed my son, why did you stop the cardiac massage? It can be helpful, right? You’re a doctor right? You should be doing something right? My son needs to live, why did you kill him? Why did you destroy his family, why-“
And Hyukjae wants to burry himself alive in the summer’s dust and tries to hear nothing but the tone of the sea, trying to penetrate itself in his mind.
Hyukjae finds himself walking in the empty streets of Seoul with his unlaced shoes and dungy jeans, and sees water and earth, air and smokes, lights and gleams.
He sits by the Han River and watches the water beaming and sneaking between his cold feet. He smiles against the harshness of the December air and lets his tears shower his face with plainness and sorrow.
He lets his feet kick the empty boxes of ramen that were laying on the small centre table. When he leaves his apartment, his digital clock changes from 10:51 to 10:52.
He shuffles to the rooftop to get rid of the routine’s air, and smokes into its clearness. And just, when he was about to lay his back against the whitish walls and let himself listen to the thick sounds of the screeches that the summer’s breeze makes, he sees a vacant figure and a boll of brownish hair.
He tells himself that he doesn’t care and that the rooftop is everyone’s belonging, but when he sees the stranger approaching the edge with careful steps and in a fraction of seconds, he lets himself fall above the large city, Hyukjae finds himself holding strong arms and feels legs above him and this is how he sees orange rays forming against his skin and he drowns himself into a sea of unaccomplished dreams.
“Where the hell I am?”
Hyukjae turns back to look at the brunette who was laying on his bed, and asks himself, what the hell I am doing.
“Relax,” Hyukjae says as he places a cup of water between the palms of the man’s hands, and smiles at him.
“My name is Hyukjae,”
And a silent silence, that isn’t really silent with all these cars’ sounds ringing at the back of their heads, fills the room.
“Why did you save me?” Donghae says as he rolls his fingers around the delicate fabric of the glass and Hyukjae wants to ask why, why.
“I don’t know,”
“I should die,”
“No I should be dead, buried away,”
“Death isn’t a game that you can just play,”
And Hyukjae decides to keep quite because it wasn’t normal for him to meet someone who wants death and not life, someone who’s really cupid but in a very other way.
“Donghae, come here,” Hyukjae says as he pulls on Donghae’s hand and embraces him. “Can we, Can we stay like this for a moment?”
“Okay,” Donghae mumbles ghostly into his shirt, links their arms behind Hyukjae’s jacket and smiles into its thick aroma.
"I love you, Hyukjae”
“What are we going to do with you?” Hyukjae says when Donghae sits down, flips his hair and looks at him from behind his eyelashes.
“I don’t know,” Donghae says and plays with his fingers, “Just let me die, I don’t deserve to live,”
“You do deserve to live,” Hyukjae says and all sorts of whys and hows cross his mind but he pushes them away because just because Donghae deserves to live.
“I’m a dishonnor for everyone,” He says and sighs into his jacket, “and I hate people,”
“You know, you can tell me,''
"or maybe not; you shouldn’t trust a stranger,”
“I know, but can you let me go for now?” Donghae says and Hyukjae nods.
“Being a doctor, doesn’t mean that you should save every single person that you meet,” A short man says vacantly and Hyukjae holds onto his pen and nods quietly.
“You just need to save who deserves to be saved,” He smiles smoothly, “Not with medicine, but with your heart,”
“Everyone deserves to live,” Hyukjae objects,
“Physically, but not morally,”
And at that time, Hyukjae didn’t quite get the meaning of these words.
“I’m a love child to begin with, a result of a ludicrous lust between two people,” Donghae says as he smokes a bit of Hyukjae’s cigarette before coughing a little into the coldish wind of January.
Hyukjae stares at him quietly, face moonlighted and eyes glassed with invisible tears.
“Don’t give me that look,” Donghae tells him and smiles when Hyukjae holds firmly his fingers.
“For what, for saving me?”
“No, and maybe yes,”
“No, Hyukjae, thank you for saving me,”
“What are you doing here, attempting suicide again?” Hyukjae says as he slides down the wall, sits beside Donghae and observes the clouds’ deformation, trying to listen to the nightingale’s chant.
“No,” Donghae says and tries to say something but doesn’t, because he finds the words stuck at the back of his throat.
“It’s peaceful,” Donghae says and Hyukjae nods as he stares at Donghae’s glinted figure and sees all sorts of beautiful lotuses and serene rivers.
“Everything is going down,” Donghae says and almost regrets everything that they went through.
“I know,” Hyukjae says as he rests his head on the sleek and smooth lids of his bed.
“But, I can’t let you go,”
“And you actually can’t either,”
“And I can’t stop loving you,”
And Hyukjae stays silent when he feels Donghae’s lips on his, Donghae’s tongue caressing his, Donghae’s teeth crashing into his.
Cupid, he thinks. Cupid, I am the cupid, I have always been the cupid one.
Hyukjae wakes up to a mess of brown hair and maudlin skins, on a Sunday night. He finds Donghae lying beside him, all naked with just a sleek blanket covering his legs; he shuts his eyes close and whispers deficient words into the dark.
“Stay with me,”
“I love you okay, Donghae,”
Donghae kisses Hyukjae's throat, makes love to his chest and mouth. Patterns his collarbone and neck with feeble pecks and lets his hand stroke his groin and massage his thighs. He stares at Hyukjae’s eyes and tells him, I love you, I love you so fucking much, I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you, and Hyukjae says liar, I saved you remember? You wouldn’t be alive if I wasn’t there at that time, when the digital clock of my house changed from 10:51 to 10:52. And Donghae kisses his mouth and says that it’s okay, as long as you love me.
And that night, he sleeps to Hyukjae’s moans and yelps, sleeps beside the warmth that he almost lost to his cupidity.
“Junsu, meet Donghae, my everything,” Hyukjae says as he puts a hand around Donghae’s and Junsu stares at them for moments before smiling, and with a click of tongue he says almost lowly,
“You woke up, Hyukjae.”