Missing Shadows

Title: Missing Shadows
Genre: Speculative fiction (It sounds a lot cooler than it really is :P)
Word Count: 747
Yeah. Under normal circumstances I easily break the 1k limit but somehow when I'm trying to build up to 50k, I fall short. Cruel, cruel world.

A/N: This was supposed to be the first chapter of my novel. *sigh* Anyhow, it's a short story now.

----

I am awake. Conscious at the very least. I can feel my mind stirring, slowly shaking off the drowsiness induced by my late night. My world is still dark. I take a deep breath and try to open my eyes.

My eyelids feel heavy, not the kind of heavy caused by a late night at work or a night out gone wrong. It feels as though someone's glued my eyes shut, as though my neurotransmitters have switched off and my brain is isolated from the rest of my body. Trapped inside the shell it once controlled.

Panic strikes and I feel my breathing getting irregular. My hands get clammy, my heart starts to beat faster, my body starts to shiver. I try to regain control over my mind and I force myself to take slow, deep breaths. It works. Somewhat. My heart slows down to a more normal pace, my body stops shivering. My hands are still clammy. I attempt to open my eyes again.

The world is pitch black. I sit up, frantically looking around. There is nothing to see. No light, no objects, not even shadows. I can't see.

I fall back onto the bed and cover my face with my hands. I will myself to calm down, I start breathing normally again. Baby steps. I try to visualize what I would see.

The faded yellow walls, the painting on the far end. The dim light from the lamp mounted on the wall behind me. The clock on the bedside table, it probably would be indicating that it is 8 am. The dressing table on the side, the mirror reflecting the thick, wine red curtains on the opposite wall.

I sit up and slowly open my eyes. It is a little blurry at first but then the lines become sharper. The room is exactly as I imagined it would be. The yellow of the walls, the dim light from the lamp, the clock showing 8 am, the dressing table, the mirror reflecting the wine red curtains.

Rubbing my eyes in an attempt to kick start my stalling consciousness, I stretch and get off the bed. I walk over to the dressing table and finger comb my hair into a ponytail. It has been getting long, my hair. I need to get a haircut. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I see that my hair which I usually maintain at about shoulder length, has grown up to my elbows. I am not quite sure how it escaped my notice for this long. I guess I have just been that busy. I search the table for an elastic, I can't find one. I end up braiding my hair instead, to keep it out of my face. I notice the clock in the reflection, it's still 8 am.

Maybe the battery is dead. I walk up to the table and pick it up, I hit it against the palm of my other hand a few times in a futile attempt to bring it to life. I know I have a couple of spare batteries somewhere, I open a drawer to check.

It is pitch black. Nothing at all. Not even a shadow.

I look up and start to notice the things I'd missed. The parts of the room that I hadn't visualized are still blurry. The headboard of the bed, my slippers, the door. I rip the curtains open and it's pitch black outside. I turn around and come face to face my reflection in the mirror.

She's screaming, I can't hear it though. I can see the terror in her eyes. Her hair grows longer, the dark brown tendrils twisting around her neck forming a noose. Like a giant rope that's come to life, it tightens around the pale skin of her throat. She clutches at the bonds with white trembling fingers. Her knuckles are pale and she grapples against the stronghold, the noose is getting tighter, her eyes grow wide, her face grows pale.

My hands fly up to my neck as I start to feel something tightening around it. I touch my throat but I can't feel anything but my skin. The pressure is getting unbearable and something twists my face to look at my reflection in the mirror. She's looking at me, her eyes are begging me to help. I feel myself get lifted off the ground, I'm choking, the world is growing darker. I'm feeling dizzy.

With a loud crash the mirror shatters. It's over.

Explanations

Here you go, for anyone who is interested, if anyone is still interested - my pathetic attempts at an explanation for the ridiculously long amount of time that has gone by without a post.

Attempt 1: Writing 'Won't Close My Eyes' got me feeling a little drained.

Attempt 2: I'm actually a very lazy person.

Attempt 3: I've had exams? I'm sorry, I apologize for even pretending that matters.

Attempt 4: I've been on a technology ban. Well, I needed to rest my eyes so as a result, I was kept away computers or phones or laptops. Well. Admittedly that did not prevent me from watching 57 (and counting) episodes of One Piece so ignore this pathetic excuse-wannabe-attempt-thing.

Credit: XxCookie-FreakxX (on deviantart)

Attempt 5: I'm a stubborn person. I will not write if you do not ask me nicely. (Not referring to any of you wonderful readers and since I've been lazy I thank you now for the 3835 pageviews. Each and every view means so much to me. Lots and lots of hugs and kissies. :* I shall stop now.)

Attempt 6: Catch.com betrayed me! :( But I've found a way! (Imagine a chibi me with my fist clenched in determination) :P (That ':P' is intended at you. Yes, you.)

Attempt 7: Aw screw it.

Anyhow. I'm sorry. *hangs head in shame*

Man. I've been reading too much manga these days.

I attempted a novel by the way, for National Novel Writing Month, November (NaNoWriMo for short).

Quite a lame attempt, really. I tried doing this whole psychological sci-fi, speculative fiction sort of thing I haven't tried before. I didn't get very far. But yeah. Next time. *determined*

Anyhow. As soon as I can think of names, I'm thinking I'll put up excerpts from that unborn(*sob*) novel as short stories so hopefully, I'll have something for any of you still interested in reading what little old me has to say. Soon. Hopefully.

And that's that. 

Won't Close My Eyes

It's not something she remembers very well. It's not something she thinks about often. She just knows that it happened. She just knows that no matter what she becomes, this will always be a part of her.

You ask her something about her life, anything. Start with her name, her age, her family. As you get close to her, ask who her first crush was, who her first boyfriend was, how long did they last. Ask her when her first kiss was and she'll name a date and a place, she'll name a boy she used to love. You'll smile and maybe you'll say 'That's so cute!' and she'll smile and the conversation is done there. Maybe you'll talk for a while and maybe you'll meet her again someday, but that there, was the first lie she ever will tell you.

Her first kiss was not a boy she loved. It was a man who claimed to be her tutor. It's not something she dwells upon, but if she tries to focus, she remembers meeting her eyes in the mirror and stubbornly refusing to close them, because somewhere in that twelve year old girl's mind, she had this idea that you close your eyes when you kiss someone you love. She didn't love this man. She wouldn't close her eyes.

Ask her how long it went on, she wouldn't know. It's almost as though her mind has locked this part of her memory in a box and hidden it away in a dusty corner. Ask her when it started, she won't know. She can't remember. All she knows is that he used to ask her to study something he'd just explained, and she would, head bowed over her book, and she'd study while he groped her under the table. Then he'd ask her questions and she wouldn't know the answers and he'd shout. She never cried when he yelled, she stared obstinately back into his eyes.

He'd stop when he heard footsteps outside the door. He was a religious man, someone who taught the ways of God, her parents never had even the slightest doubt. When they'd come in to check on her, he'd be on his best behaviour and she'd say nothing.

She doesn't know why but the thought of telling her parents scared her. Once she was older, she read something on child abuse, it said that the victims feel fear and guilt. She thinks that maybe she was too young to comprehend it, what she felt back then was guilt. She doesn't quite remember those emotions, not vividly, not at all. As though it's too painful to remember. As though her mind is protecting her from herself.
She tried to protest in her way. She'd arrange the table and chairs in such a way that he couldn't reach her under the table. She'd wear two, maybe three pairs of trousers. She'd wear a pair of jeans with a belt. She had wanted to lock herself away, she was angry, but mostly she was scared.

She wonders what went through his mind. Did he ever feel fear? Of being caught, at the very least. She didn't expect him to fear the God he taught her about, he probably knew that all of what he taught was lies. She remembers him whispering that she should tell him if she was uncomfortable, and not her parents. She remained quiet. He kept insisting, he made her walk over to his chair and stand by him and told her again. She nods and he kisses her. She locks eyes with the girl in the mirror.

He had to leave to some place for some reason she doesn't remember anymore and she wished he'd never come back. She wished he'd just disappear from her life, it'd make everything a lot easier. But one day her mother tells her he's back and that he'd called and she'd be starting classes from the next week. And she breaks down and cries. The words coming out aren't coherent. She doesn't know how long she cried, or even how long it took for her to make sense. She doesn't know anymore. But she knows it ended then.

She's not sure how it has affected her. Sure, she's a little uncomfortable with physical contact, but that's probably just personal space issues, she thinks. She doesn't break down into tears when she thinks about it, she doesn't think it haunts her. She just knows that it is a part of her. She was lucky that it stopped with just that. She thinks of all these children, boys and girls alike, who go through this and so much worse and she can feel their pain. All their innocence, all of their carefree childhood, taken away with just one act.

She wishes she could go back in time, and pull that man off her younger self, slap him across his face and rip those hands off his wrists. She wants to hold that twelve year old girl close and tell her that she did no wrong, that she will grow up to be stronger than she ever expected to be.

She wipes the tears off her face and puts her memories back in their box, and puts the box back in its dusty corner. It doesn't do anyone good to dwell upon the past, she thinks as she holds her own little girl close. Her baby brother sleeps in a cot nearby and she thinks she wants to protect them from the world. Put them away in little boxes and shield them from all the negativity until they are old enough to face it. She knows she wouldn't ever deem them old enough, she knows she wouldn't be able to.

She stands up and walks across the soft carpet. She turns around and takes one last look before she shuts the door and walks over to her own room. She climbs into her bed and pulls the covers over her head. As though she's hiding from herself. She doesn't want to be seen crying, not even by herself. She's stronger than that.

---

Dial CHILDLINE: 1098 from any phone service in India  to report a child in distress. The CHILDLINE service is a free 24x7 tele-outreach helpline service for children in need of care and protection. For more information, visit www.childlineindia.org.in

The Bucket List

It started out when a friend watched the movie, 'The Bucket List'. The next day during class, we took out sheets of paper and made 'Bucket Lists' for ourselves. It started out with about 15 things to do and now I've got around 50 on my list, and I think I'd have checked off around 10.

A bucket list is basically a list of things you want to do before you die, i.e. before you kick the metaphorical bucket, and hence the name. It seemed like a pretty amazing idea, you know, keeping things simple(:P), setting your priorities straight, having the big picture in mind. To simply realize that all these little things we worry about everyday aren't really all that important. Like a friend once told me, 'Live each day like it is your last. One day, you're going to be right.'

Don't expect much, my bucket list isn't especially profound, except maybe one or two things like

13. Touch someone's life.

and even that is pilfered off the movie, I know.

Then there are the ones which on completion might give me a sense of satisfaction and maybe feel like I've improved myself somehow like

23. Write a food blog.

31. Learn to play the guitar.

33. Learn kickboxing/taekwondo.

42. Learn Hangul.

51. Own a pair of black, four inch high peep toe stilettos and wear them often.

48. Sing/dance in public.

21. Karaoke.

I'm not sure how number 51 fits but if I have to categorize, it belongs here.

I'm not particularly a shy person in a public setting. As in I can jump up on a stage and talk if the situation demands, but dancing(singing) isn't really my forte. Hence, to step out of my comfort zone, I have number 48(21).

Then I have the really random ones that I put on the list on an impulse and don't want to take off because they're things I did think up at one point. I have family and friends reading these posts so I'm not going to explicitly list them, maybe someday.

Okay, I'm bored. This post ends here.

Sick

It hurts to swallow. And sometimes, there's this shooting pain through my left ear. The unmistakable warning of an oncoming migraine, there's that dull throbbing at the back of my head.

They say think of all the people who suffer more than you do, those who've got cancer, those people whose limbs have been amputated.

Oh please. Like thinking of those with nothing makes you feel better. Now that I think about it, it seems sort of sadistic. To find comfort in another's misfortune? Yeah, not my thing.

I'm not sure what is my thing. Philanthropy? I'm too selfish for philanthropy, I think. Besides, the whole point of charity is to feel good about yourself. The system is flawed, methinks.

But, I digress. Focusing on the problem at hand. It didn't seem like a bad idea initially, to play in the rain. It took a few days to hit me (unlike a friend who was bedridden the next day) but man, this sucks.

Mind over matter, I once read somewhere. Lets see if that works. I'm not cold. I'm not cold. I'm not cold. I'm not cold.

Screw this, where's the blanket?

Maybe I should just sleep. My migraine meds reacted with my antibiotics and citrizine and instead of the usual sedative effect, I was up till 4 am last night (this morning?), tossing and turning. And the blasted phone decided to switch off around 12, leaving me with no, uhm, entertainment. I tell a friend that maybe I'm wired differently, hence the insomnia effect of the usually sleep inducing medicine. 'Maybe some connections are left un-wired', he retorts. Bum and a half.

There's a fine line between most polar opposites, sanity and insanity, for example. There's also that fine line between tired and so-effing-exhausted, and once you cross that, sleep is hard to come by. And you have me.

The solution would be to just keep typing until I hit the publish button when this phone falls on my face or until someone walks in and takes said phone away, accompanied by 'GET SOME REST!!'

I'm hopeless at endings. I'll just stop with this then.

-end-

The Second Glass of Wine

Title: The Second Glass of Wine
Genre: Angst
Word count: 1k
Summary: She lost the one constant in her life of changes. She cries, she throws things, she copes. 
A/N: Title credits - S(M :P) and V. I love you both and I don't know what I'd do without you.

I love the sound of rain, it reminds me of the times we sat together on the balcony during rainstorms with glasses of wine in our hands and cigarettes on our lips. All those times we shouted over the crescendo of the crashing rain to be heard. We spoke about unfair bosses, ridiculous working hours, the lame pick up lines the loser coworker tried on us that day, anything, everything. Some days we just sat there, not a word passed between us, it was all unsaid, we still understood.

You'd always been there, the only constant I needed in a life of changes. Boyfriends and acquaintances came and went, you stayed. No matter how long it had been since our last conversation, the bond remained. Every girl needed a best friend, you were mine, I was yours.

You are the most important part of most of my memories. You was the first one I told when I got my first job; the first thing I bought with my own money was drinks when we went out to celebrate. Being your friend was easy, I didn't have to try, I just needed to be myself.

That little black dress we both tried on and loved but left at the store because it was ridiculously expensive. We never forgot it though, we stared wistfully at it every time we passed by until they removed it from the display. The way the sales girls looked at us, we were those two weird girls who drooled at a dress each time but never bought it.

We promised we'd be with each other the first time we got drunk, who knew what we'd spill under the influence. I ended up getting drunk with my colleagues the first time, but I felt bad, like I betrayed you somehow. I bought us a bottle of vodka on your birthday but we didn't like it much anyway.
Those nights we stayed up watching movies, pretending we were still kids, as if it was all a long sleepover. We woke up sprawled on the floor with the laptop still switched on, and went to work that day bleary eyed and with prominent dark circles under our eyes.

We met in school, friend of a friend, it didn't take us too long to become inseparable, giggling over little things, sitting at the back of the classroom. We swore we'd never let anything come between us, but we once did and I guess we were stronger because of it by the end. I remember those conversations we had after we made up, it was a huge misunderstanding, we both felt the same way and I'd never forget that moment when we realized we could stop apologizing, it was all forgiven and forgotten, we were better than before.

We were similar in some ways, our love of new things, open mindedness, but we had our differences, I was always more flighty, you were more grounded. You still put up with my crazy mood swings and impulsive decisions, like that one time we drove out in the middle of the night because my favorite band was landing at the airport at that ungodly hour in the next city.

That one late night phone call you made, the first time we spoke about everything and nothing, that call probably was the beginning of everything. That one time we sat on the front porch and I cried, talking about things that seem so insignificant now.

As I walked back from where you are now, tears poured down my face and I wasn't really there, I couldn't see the people with me, I couldn't see the road ahead of me. I wished you were crying with me instead of me crying at your memory.

The first time I ever felt truly alone was when I walked back into our apartment after the funeral. I still hear your voice sometimes. It used to reduce me to a crying, shaking mess, curled up against the kitchen wall. Then it stopped making me cry, it made me angry instead. I threw things, I broke things, I yelled at strangers and screamed into pillows. I've woken up on the floor where I passed out after I tired myself out. At one point it was the only way I could sleep. If I closed my eyes, I saw you there.

I pass the corner where the car barreled into you every time I go out to get groceries. Sometimes I stand there for a while and I can feel you there with me. It's almost like you were never gone. I drop some money into the hat of that old homeless man who sits there, he's taking care of you for me, keeping you safe until I come again.

I've never been a believer, neither had you, I couldn't accept the whole 'God calls the good people' because it wasn't fair, you were too young, you didn't deserve to die. I was angry at everyone. How could everyone go on with their lives when I had lost everything? How could they expect me to act normal, like nothing was wrong when everything was wrong. I didn't know why I lived anymore, it was pointless to stay on, I couldn't bear with the pain.

People talked about how I was in shock at your funeral, not shedding a tear, I didn't care, you'd only gone out for work, you'd be back home soon. You're still around aren't you? I still feel you here. In your room, in the kitchen, on the balcony. I still pour out two glasses of wine, it's waiting for you. You're coming back, aren't you?

It still hurts all the time, it hurts so bad that it is physical pain. Each time I close my eyes, I see your face, and you smile at me cryptically. Sometimes I hear your voice telling me to be strong but I can't. It just makes me hurt a little more, because I now realize I'll never get to hear your voice in reality again, it's only going to be in my mind from now.

I tell myself I have to move on, that life goes on even if it feels like it has ended. It doesn't work, it hasn't worked yet. Maybe it will someday. But for now, it hurts. And I can't deal with it anymore.

I'm done.

Reminisce

Title: Reminisce

Word count: 837
Dedication: To someone who means the world to me. About someone who means the world to him. (I love you guys) *hugs* *squishes* *It's so fluffy I'm going to die*

----

It had been a while since I last met him. At least seven years. And so much had changed.

We were around 12 the last time we had seen each other, he was a scrawny, pale little boy, I wasn't all that big either. Then he left and there was an email about the new Harry Potter movie, one about dragons, but that was it. Nothing more.

He's grown so different, so much taller (I'm stuck at maybe 10 centimeters taller since I was 12) and it leaves me wondering if this is the guy I came to meet as we walked towards each other. Then he smiled and said my name, and he was the same boy I knew.

---

She joined us for lunch.

She was everything he'd described her as being, sweet, smart, funny, adorable. All those times we'd texted, he'd always had an endless amount of things to say about her and now that I had met her, I began to understand why.

I'm awkward with couples, I really am. When they get all sweet and lovey-dovey I'm thinking 'ew'.

These two, however, were… I can't really describe it. I noticed those secret looks they shared over the menu cards, the way their hands brushed each other accidentally-on-purpose. Somehow I was content just watching them, maybe because they had this infectious sort of happiness about them. The kind of happiness you wish you had.

The way he smiled at her, the way her smile got a little brighter when she caught his eye, the way his eyes betrayed just how deeply he felt about her, the way she smiled and her face flushed delicately each time she caught him watching.

I'm a skeptic. I don't particularly believe in anything, religion, God or even love. Hell, if I'm willing to admit that it felt like these two were meant to be, then these two better be handcuffed together for the rest of eternity. And as I thought that, I didn't get that snide voice in my head going, 'Or at least until they get tired of each other.' so I guess that means something.

She had to leave soon after and him and I took a bus to the airport. I listened to him talk about life, college, exams and her.

'Your life really does revolve around her doesn't it?' I ask, amused. Well no, I guess I was amazed.

He laughed and changed the topic, quite skillfully, I might add.

It's his eyes that give it away, them shining like they do at the mere thought of her. The message couldn't get any clearer, just how in love they were.

I spent the rest of the ride in a bit of a daze. I've loved, I fall into each new experience with a passion like nothing I've ever seen before.

This was something I'd never seen, never experienced. The way it felt so right to see them together. Almost as though all that bull in the movies about having a soul mate was really true.

I'd been terribly excited to meet her, after all that I had heard. It was even more special to meet her in person, to hear both their versions of the story of how it all began, on a day everyone claimed was lucky. I think, at that particular 'lucky moment' no one on earth could have been luckier.

They say each person has a calling. Some people find it, some don't. It's supposed to be something that sweeps you off your feet, something that makes your life worthwhile.

Maybe it's not just a vocation or a hobby. Maybe you find your calling in love. Maybe love is what makes the world go round and not gravity, maybe 'to love' is what some people are meant to do, everything else is secondary.

Sometimes in life you find your calling. Sometimes you don't. When you do, it blows you away, it messes with your head and you're left feeling vulnerable and just a little scared, I mean how could something, someone, mean so much to you? Is it even humanely possible to care just as much as you do about this person?

Sometimes it’s terrifying but deep inside you know it's okay. It's you against the world and nothing else matters just as long as you know you will see the reason for your happiness right beside you when you need them the most.

That's love I suppose, I think as we stepped out of the bus at the airport.

"It was really nice to see you again."

He smiles and we walk towards the departures gate. His phone rings and he takes it out. Judging by his expression and that smile that crept into his eyes, I'd say it was her.

"She's asking whether we've reached."

Just a simple text and here he is, a goofy smile stretched across his face.

I can't help but laugh, "You've fallen so hard."

He grinned, "Yeah, I guess I have."

---

Dancing In The Rain (Part 2)

Summary: Kangin was successful, the money, the job, the perks. He find happiness that he hadn't realized was missing from his life when he meets an old friend from college, Sungmin. When Sungmin disappears, what's going to happen to Kangin?

----

AN: This is part 2. You can find Part 1 here. And yes. This is the last part.

----

Three months later, Kangin went to work and switched his computer on to find an email from his old business management professor at college asking if he would mind being a guest lecturer for a day, the students needed to see a live case study. Essentially, he was supposed to go over there and talk about how he saved the magazine. He wasn’t interested. He had typed out a polite letter of declination when his secretary came in with his coffee and his schedule for the day. By the time she was gone, he had changed his mind. Kangin thought that he really should just ask his secretary for a printed copy of his meeting timings, he couldn’t remember the last time he paid attention to her.

A week later when Kangin drove in through the university gates, he felt an unfamiliar thumping in his head. He tried to tell himself that it was only because he hadn’t been there in a while. He wasn’t quite sure if he believed it.

It wasn’t hard to find the professor’s room. It was in the exact same place it had been a few years ago. After the usual formalities and pleasantries he told Kangin that he would be addressing the senior class and the freshmen, was that okay. Kangin nodded, then called his secretary to free his schedule.

Soon after, the professor led him to the freshmen class. He spent most of the lunch hour wandering around campus, answering questions for eager freshmen, rejecting some of the too eager ones. He ended up with a pocket full of phone numbers but he just tipped them into the waste basket.

He pretended he didn’t know what or who he was looking for. Deep inside, he knew he wanted to see Sungmin but he was ignoring that part of his mind for the time being. One half of his mind wanted to meet Sungmin, and ask him why he had disappeared from his life all of a sudden. The other half was prepared to run away and hide if he saw Sungmin’s face in the crowd. He was usually so rational; he couldn’t explain why he was so illogical and indecisive about this. He wondered why he was so disappointed when the bell rang at the end of lunch and he still hadn’t met Sungmin.

He met the senior class then, and soon it was over. The excuse he had to be hanging around the campus was now invalid. He walked towards the parking lot.

It would have been a scene plagiarized from a cheesy movie if he found Sungmin right then, as he was walking to the parking lot. Kangin thought it would be even cheesier if Sungmin came running up to him as he was driving out through the gates. Cheesy and predictable. Also something he was hoping for.

The next morning the sound of fists pounding on his door woke Kangin from his alcohol induced stupor. He had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning and he wasn’t quite sure just how much beer he had drunk. He scrambled up from the floor, nearly tripping over empty beer bottles numerous times before reaching the door and pulling it open.

Kangin blinked once, then twice. The beer must have been playing tricks on him. He reached out and touched the face in front of him, whispering the name of the person he could see in a twisted alcohol slurred haze.

“Sungmin…”

Then he promptly passed out.

***

When Kangin woke up it was dark outside. He slowly sat up and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He felt the vestiges of a throbbing headache in the back of his head and stood up very slowly, trying not to aggravate it.

He walked into the living room and turned the soft lights on, expecting to find a mess to clear up. There wasn’t. He didn’t find his beer bottles or filled ashtrays. What he did find was the hallucination from that morning waking up from where he was lying on his couch and walking towards him.

***

About an hour later, Kangin was eating what Sungmin had made, not really tasting it, mainly because of the million questions that were running through his mind. Sungmin noticed him looking, smiled and said, “After you eat, hyung. We’ll talk then.”

There was a knock on the door. Kangin tried to get up but sat back down halfway through because of the renewed pounding in his head. Sungmin stood up, “Hyung, don’t strain yourself. I’ll get the door.”

He heard the door open, then a woman’s voice said, “What are you doing here?” He didn’t hear Sungmin’s reply. Lee Ha Ni walked into the room, Sungmin following her a few steps behind.

Though Kangin had too much of a hangover to look up at her, he could almost imagine her expression when she said, “OH! Youngwoon-oppa! How are you? Oh, don’t eat that. I’ll make you something that’s good for hangovers” and pushed Kangin’s bowl away from him before flitting off into the kitchen. Flitted. Like an insect.

Kangin mumbled, “Crazy fucking bitch” and pulled his bowl back towards him. To Sungmin he added, “Tell her that if she’s going to make eggs I’ll kill her.”

Sungmin chuckled. “Hyung, don’t say that, she’s your girlfriend isn’t she? She just cares about you.”

Kangin thought he had heard wrong until he looked up to find Sungmin’s eyes on him, almost waiting for an answer. “What? Her? My girlfriend? Who told you that?”

Kangin watched Sungmin’s expression change from playful to astounded, then apologetic, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know you guys broke up.”

Now Kangin was sure that he was mirroring that astounded expression Sungmin had on only seconds ago, “We were never dating, Sungmin.”

“Oh. She told me you were. And not to come here anymore. That’s why I-”

Sungmin’s voice broke off as Ha Ni came back into the room. Kangin thought he saw a dirty glare directed at Sungmin flash on her face before she switched back to sickly sweet as she sat herself on the arm of Kangin’s couch. Sungmin looked awkward and seemed to be trying to leave. Kangin somehow never wanted to let him out of his sight again. It felt like he’d never come back if he left this time.

“Did you tell Sungmin that we were dating?” Kangin asked Ha Ni quietly. Sungmin’s eyes widened and he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Oh shit’ while Ha Ni reddened visibly and fought to keep an expression of nonchalance.

“Yes and I had my reasons oppa, we’ll talk about that later.”

Sungmin slowly slipped out as their voices rose and leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes, bracing himself, awaiting the inevitable.

Then she said the words that made Sungmin feel like his whole world had just collapsed beneath him and he held on to the door handle for support as he waited to hear Kangin’s reaction, terrified of the words that were about to come.

“So what?”

Kangin’s voice saying just those two words rang inside Sungmin’s head, the noise resonating in his mind. What was that supposed to mean, disgust or indifference? Or could he dare to imagine that he was defending him from Ha Ni’s words, ‘I only told him that to protect you. That kid is delusional! He thinks he is in love with you!’

The rush of blood to his head prevented him from focusing on much of the rest of the conversation, so he stood there, supporting his wobbly knees up by his hand on the door knob and was thrown quite out of balance when the door flew open and Lee Ha Ni stormed out, giving him a look that could kill.

Kangin came out of the room slowly, and looked relieved (Relieved? Why would he be relieved?) when he saw Sungmin at the door, “Oh I thought you had left me (He wants me to stay?) again (Again? Does it really matter to him when I’m gone?). Come in.”

Sungmin wasn’t sure if he should but just in that short exchange he had been confused by Kangin’s words so many times he had to go in to make sure he knew what was going on.

They sat on the couch and Sungmin was too nervous to make eye contact and so he decided to stare at his hands instead. Kangin decided he ought to break the awkward silence so he cleared his throat. Sungmin looked up at him for a fraction of a second then looked back down as soon as he met Kangin’s eyes.

“Did you hear what she said?”

An almost indiscernible nod.

“Was she making it up?”

Sungmin took a deep breath then shook his head. He looked up and said, “If it creeps you out, I’ll leave.”

Kangin thinks he’ll never forget the expression on Sungmin’s face just before Kangin leaned in and kissed him all of a sudden. Sungmin thinks it is sweet the way Kangin began to pull away from the kiss when Sungmin was too shocked to respond, interpreting it as dislike. Kangin replays the moment over in his head, when Sungmin wrapped his arms around his shoulders, threading his fingers through his hair, pulling him closer as he had begun to pull away.

Sungmin breaks the kiss, leans his forehead on Kangin’s, panting slightly, his lips curling into a small smile when their eyes met.

Kangin can’t help grinning as he leans forward and nibbles on Sungmin’s full, pink lips and loves the sound of Sungmin’s suppressed giggle escaping through the kiss.

That proves to be their breaking point and they both laugh for a good five minutes at the end of which Kangin decides that Sungmin’s laugh has to be the cutest thing in the world.

Then the bowl of food that Lee Ha Ni made gets almost toppled over with all their laughing and shaking and Kangin rewrites his list of Cutest Thing in the World, deciding that it is Sungmin’s get-down-to-business face.

Sungmin makes sure Kangin eats and that all the bowls are washed before kissing Kangin again, tackling Kangin so he falls back onto the couch.

Later that night, they sit together on the very same couch they spent so much time making out on, watching TV, eating popcorn and fighting for the last bottle of beer. Sungmin gets up, offering to go buy some more and Kangin reaches out to pull him back but it is too late.

Five minutes later, Kangin swears silently, switches off the TV and locks the door behind him as he runs after Sungmin.

It is drizzling and Kangin laughs as he is reminded of the day he met Sungmin after a very long time, the drenched guy in the white shirt. He sees Sungmin coming towards him, barely looking at anything around him, trying to get back as fast as he can. Kangin stops right in front of him and Sungmin narrowly avoids collision and says, ‘Sorry’ before trying to duck around him. Kangin holds him firmly and says, “You shouldn’t say sorry when someone bumps into you.”

Sungmin looks up and gives him an impish grin, “I wanted to get back to you.”

They stand that way for a while and then Kangin lets go of him, feeling conscious that they were in the middle of a street. They start to walk back to the apartment together.

“You know what? I think I fell for you when I saw you standing in the rain with your arms wide open.”

Sungmin smiles and slips his hand into Kangin’s, “Maybe because you could see my sexy body through my thin white shirt.”

Kangin looks indignant and Sungmin falls in love with that expression, maybe that’s why he’s a second late to start running away from him. A smile spread across Kangin’s face as he chased him down the street, their finally expressed feelings connecting them with an undeniable bond, the threads of which were running alongside them, dancing in the rain.

----

Dancing In The Rain (Part 1)

Title: Dancing in the Rain
Pairing: Kangin, Sungmin, Kangmin
Word Count: 4k. Wow.
Warnings: AU
Genre: Fluff, AU
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the people I mention. The plot and story however, are all mine.
And this is going to be a two shot (as in two parts so the second part is linked to at the end of this one)

Summary: Kangin was successful, he had the money, he had the job. He couldn't have been completely happy though, otherwise where's the story. Enter Sungmin, who brings the happiness with him.

---


The yellow numbers told Kangin that it was 12 am. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he tried to keep the angry red glare of the traffic light from irritating his headache. The only thing he hated about his job was the hours. He was heading back early today by comparison, sometimes he didn't even come home; he just slept at his table.

Not that he had anyone to blame but himself for his working hours.  Two years out of college, he was the youngest ever editor of one of the biggest magazines in South Korea. He could, if he wanted to, make one of his subordinates stay back late to perfect the layout and re-check the articles but he didn't. He didn't get the same satisfaction from making others work that he did when he did it himself.

The heavy rain made it impossible to see anything that was more than a foot away from the front of his car, even with the windshield wipers on in the highest possible setting. It was freezing cold outside, Kangin was grateful for the warmth of his car. His GPS told him it was about 2 degrees Celsius outside, he thought that it might be snowing tomorrow morning.

It was almost miraculous that he noticed him then, the young man standing near the bus stop. There were many others at the bus stop, huddled together in the dry space, wrapped in padded jackets and coats, holding umbrellas that were dripping water. This man, however, was standing in the middle of the footpath in a thin white shirt with his arms spread wide open and his face turned up towards the sky.

The traffic light turned yellow, then green. It was only when the cars behind him began to honk angrily that he finally tore his eyes away from that man and drove forward.

A few minutes later, he was headed in the opposite direction from his flat. His GPS directed and redirected his route at least twenty times before the noise began to annoy him and he switched it off. He didn't know why he was driving back to that bus stop but he knew he had to. Maybe that man had got on the next bus, maybe he was still there. All he knew was that he needed to go back there.

His phone was lying on the passenger's seat, it began to buzz angrily. He looked at the lit up screen and saw 'Lee Ha Ni.' He knew he's have a lot of explaining to do later but he ignored the call. Ha Ni was not his girlfriend, just a close friend. He knew she was interested in him but he hadn't ever resisted or encouraged her advances. He just maintained an air of indifference, hoping she'd understand without him having to hurt her. Because no matter how much you sugar coat it, a bitter pill stays a bitter pill.

The phone buzzed some more. When it stopped, he leaned over and switched it off. Now he'd have even more to explain but he didn't care about it at the moment. He didn't stop to think about what he was doing, he knew that if he did, he would turn around and go back to his apartment.

The rain had reduced to a slight drizzle. He parked the car on the side and walked towards the bus stop. He couldn't explain the way his heart leaped with joy at the sight of a person in a white shirt sitting at the bench. He subconsciously began to walk faster, coming to an abrupt halt when he was a few steps behind the man because it was only then that he recognized him.

"Sungmin?"

The man turned around. "Oh. Youngwoon-sunbae! It's been a long time!"

His whole face lit up in a smile, he was just as cute as Kangin remembered him to be. Then he noticed that Sungmin was dripping wet and shivering slightly.

"Why are you wet?"

He laughed, "Oh, I was waiting for the bus when it started to rain, and all of a sudden I wanted to be dancing in the rain so I did."

Kangin laughed and sat down on the bench next to him, taking off his jacket and handing it to him. He shook his head, "I'm just going to get it wet."

"Where are you headed anyway?"

"I and a few friends are living outside the dorms in a flat but we couldn't get anywhere close. So we're living at the ABC flats? Yeah, two stops away. And I got held up with a project so my flat mates left."

"Oh."

They sat there in silence for a while, and then Kangin realized Sungmin was still freezing cold.

"Hey Sungmin, you'll catch a cold if you try to get back home. Come over to my place, it’s not very far away." I stood up and gestured over to where my car was.

He looked up at me, once again, his smile lighting up his whole face, "You sure it's okay?"

"Yeah, come on."

***

They reached Kangin's apartment after Sungmin fussed around for a while making sure that he wouldn't drip water on Kangin's seats.

Kangin took something clean out of his cupboard for Sungmin to wear while he showered, and then, though he would usually have slept without dinner, searched his fridge for something that could be turned into a decent dinner. Then they sat down to dinner on Kangin's couch, eating off the plates Kangin found in the back of a cupboard. He had never had company at his apartment; he was home only at the oddest of hours.

Sungmin was a friend from college. Not as much of a friend than a junior he was friendly to. Kangin was in his senior year when among the new batch of freshmen there was an exceptionally cute boy. Kangin's best friend, and head of the ragging patrol, Leeteuk was the one who pointed him out to Kangin.

"Yah! Youngwoon-ah! Get your ass off that chair, let's go!"

It was a few years ago, it might have been that or something along those lines that Leeteuk told Kangin that evening after dinner.

Kangin was in the cafeteria, it had been a long day and that made him incredibly lazy, so it was almost inaudible when he grunted his reply, "Why?"

"Look at that cute one... Must think of himself as some kind of kkotminam. Let's see how long he holds up."

Kangin had looked up but not seen anything special. The usual crowd of freshmen, some of them looking scared, some of them cocky, but he knew that by the end of the night they'd be terrified of Leeteuk.

Then he noticed the guy Leeteuk was talking about. A white hoodie, blue jeans, black hair that fell to his eyes, eyes that sparkled when he laughed.

Kangin shook his head, poor kid, he had thought. Wonder if he'd smile like that when Teukie was done with him.

Leeteuk had everything played out to his advantage. He had kind eyes, a youthful face and a skinny physique. Even if somebody complained, none of the teachers would believe it. Because he was Leeteuk, the perfect student. Sometimes when he was drunk he'd tell Kangin why he did it.

"The need to experience it you know," he'd say, beer splashing out of his bottle and onto the floor, "and some of the other guys wouldn't know when to stop. To know how to stand up for themselves and all that crap. At least I wouldn't rape them."

Kangin thought he had a twisted sense of right and wrong but didn't complain. Besides, he was sloshed too, he couldn't say for sure if Leeteuk really said it.

Anyway, that night Sungmin was the only one who didn't break down during that night's event. Leeteuk had thought up a boxing competition between the first years, unlike the usual cursing or stripping. What Leeteuk didn't remember the next day, (he was always sloshed on initiation day) was that Sungmin had not only beaten all the new kids but managed to land a few punches on Leeteuk and some of the other guys as well. Somehow Sungmin earned Leeteuk's respect. And that's how they became friends.

Kangin snapped out of his reverie when Sungmin said, "Youngwoon hyung? You okay?"

"Yeah Sungmin-ah, sorry. You were telling me about Hyesun-nuna."

Hyesun was an old girlfriend of Kangin's. Somehow it seemed she was still in contact with Sungmin. Kangin was in contact with no one. Not even Leeteuk.

Sungmin was always a noona's boy. The senior girls fawned over the new addition to Leeteuk's crew. Kangin was sure that he would have had a fan club even if he wasn't Leeteuk's friend. That was just how Sungmin was.

People mistook him for some kind of playboy. So did Kangin, before he got to know him. He just had that sort of a personality, the one that made women adore him. Heechul once said that he could fall into Sungmin's eyes, they were that deep. Sungmin had laughed and batted his eyelashes at Heechul, promptly earning a slap from the hyung.

After dinner, Sungmin offered to do the dishes and Kangin didn't protest, he went to try and find an extra blanket.

Later when Kangin fell asleep, he was happy. He didn't know whether it was because he had a proper dinner after a long time, or because he had heard stories about so many people who were once his genuine friends unlike the guys he shook hands with nowadays at business meetings. Maybe it was because he felt like he had a friend. A friend to fight with about who sleeps on the couch and who sleeps on the bed. Or maybe, just maybe, he was happy for no reason at all.

***

It was about a month later that they met again. They'd kept in touch in the time in between, texting whenever they were free and talking on the phone sometimes while Kangin was making dinner and Sungmin was outside a bar he didn't want to be at in the first place, late at night or sometimes in the early hours of the morning.

Sungmin was, Kangin told himself, like a little brother he never had. Someone to annoy, someone to advice, and someone to protect. Sungmin was, Kangin then told himself, the best friend he'd lost since college. Someone to call up in the middle of the night when he was bored, someone to talk to about work and the annoying coworkers, someone to miss, someone to love.

But that was all Sungmin was.

Sungmin sometimes slept over at Kangin's house. When he was late from college and was too tired to go home. When he and his friends went out drinking and he was too drunk to drive home. It was easier for Sungmin that way, Kangin's flat was closer to the campus and their favorite drinking haunts. But those nights he never met Kangin.

Kangin left a spare key under his welcome mat just in case Sungmin wanted to stop by. Whenever Sungmin came Kangin either wasn't home or he was already asleep. Sungmin found water to drink and fell off to sleep on Kangin's couch.

When Sungmin woke up it was always on the bed. He'd turn over to find Kangin on the other end. Kangin never woke up when Sungmin was there. But when he did wake up, he'd know Sungmin had been there. The dishes that had piled up in the sink the past week would all be washed. The laundry Kangin had washed but piled up on his chair to save the trouble of folding them would all be folded, kept in his cupboard even.

"It’s like having a wife, only he doesn't keep wanting stuff" laughed Heechul when they met, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head from Kangin, "Yah! Youngchoon-ah, you've got yourself a little wife!" They had met for the first time in two years and the reason was that Sungmin set them up on a 'blind date' of sorts. He'd asked them both to turn up at a cafe, saying it was an emergency, but when they both did get there, Sungmin was nowhere to be seen. When they met each other, they realized Sungmin really had no plans of meeting them there after all. Kangin couldn't explain why he felt disappointed.

The day they met for the first time was a Tuesday, Kangin remembers. The day they met after a month, was also a Tuesday.

Kangin liked to call it 'his' magazine, though it wasn't really his brainchild. He didn't like to brag so nobody really knew whether it was true that he was the reason the magazine narrowly escaped a financial breakdown. He revamped everything about it, from a daily it went to a weekly, hired new designers, he was even picky about which articles he let be published. That earned him criticism from some of the older staff, especially since he was so young. His redeeming quality was how hard he worked. There was never a time when he left earlier than midnight on a Tuesday before the magazine went to the printers on Wednesday. The criticism ceased to muted mutters.

He was done surprisingly early that Tuesday. When he opened the door to his apartment, he found himself being welcomed by the smell of sizzling meat. He walked into the kitchen to find Sungmin, who had managed to procure a meat grill from somewhere, setting two plates with grilled vegetables and meat.

“Oh hyung! You’re home early!” Sungmin smiled up at Kangin.

Kangin felt a little confused. Then again, he thought, he hadn’t ever explicitly mentioned that Sungmin couldn’t have friends over. He tried not to get mad, “So, who does the other plate belong to?”

Sungmin’s face reflected the concentration with which he was turning the last piece of meat over on the grill, making sure it was cooking evenly. Kangin wondered why he felt hurt that Sungmin appeared to have a dinner date. You stupid fool, you got used to the idea of having a little wife didn’t you? It was only after that last piece of meat was on one of the plates that Sungmin looked up, “Which other plate?”

Kangin fought to maintain his cool. “The plate other than the one for you. Is it someone special?”

Sungmin looked up at him and smiled, “Yeah. Very special. Go wash up and join me.”

Kangin did as he was told but was astounded. How could that little punk still be acting cute and ordering him around at a time like this? Didn’t he realize it was wrong to invite girlfriends to his friend’s apartment?

It was only about twenty minutes later that Kangin calmed down and asked Sungmin why his friend hadn’t arrived although they were halfway through their meal. Sungmin smiled and said his friend had already arrived. Kangin muttered something inaudible and looked down at his plate. Sungmin had laughed and pushed plate with the extra meat towards him. Kangin couldn’t explain why Sungmin’s words and his laugh gave him a fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to tell himself that it was just because he was eating meat on a stomach that had been empty for several hours. He wasn’t very convinced.

Kangin remembers that night. They were both tired and for once, they didn’t fight about who slept on the bed and the couch. They climbed into bed, spoke for a few minutes, then Sungmin smiled said ‘Goodnight hyung’ and turned over and fell asleep. Kangin wondered why it affected his heart rate so much to watch Sungmin’s slender body rise and fall with every breath.

***

Kangin remembers that night, though it was a long time ago. Just because he hasn’t met Sungmin since then.

It’s not that Sungmin had been coming over and the only thing Kangin saw was the folded laundry and washed dishes. Sungmin hadn’t been coming over at all. Kangin noticed on the second day.

Though he had been coming after work to an empty apartment for almost three years now, his apartment felt lonely now. His thoughts seemed to bounce off the walls and the echoes began to suck him into an odd sort of depression.

Work seemed extremely boring, but he still tried to finish up before coming home each night. He wondered if he should drop by the college campus; try to bump into Sungmin that way. Procrastination is a terrible thing.

He tried not to notice Sungmin’s absence, folding the laundry and washing the dishes himself, so that when he woke up in the morning he could console himself by saying that Sungmin had come over and fallen asleep on the couch. There was no change because everything had already been cleaned.

Kangin tried to believe it. He didn’t. Not one bit.

****





AN: I hope you like it so far. And you can find Part 2 here.