Feat. Typhoon/Jay Kim and HeeChul
PG-13 for GOJIRA angst
Disclaimer: Don’t own, no profit, for entertainment only
Notes: Written for any TaeHee-shippers out there, anyone who’s ever had a break-up, and anyone who likes reading angst. <3 Short, only 542 words.
It felt as if hours had gone by, time dripping slowly like the raindrops down the windowpane, and hardly a sentence had been scribbled onto the paper that lay before Jay, his pen touching the smooth surface but not moving. He didn’t know how it was possible for words to fail him when his heart seemed to be full of them, syllables and vowels and consonants all stringing together into things he wished he had said. Things he should have said, sentences that he couldn’t put down on paper even though they ran through his mind at night as his lover’s silhouette haunted him at night. Or, perhaps, his former lover, the man he’d spent years waking up next to, years holding when things got tough, years loving selflessly, though, perhaps he’d never showed the other this.
A symbol of one of the few words written began to blur, the ink swirling in a small dollop of moisture, soon followed by another, and then another until all at once Jay seized the paper in his hand, pen cast aside as he ground the paper mercilessly in his fist. His throat ached as tears left burning trails in their wake, and slowly, his head lowered as a single name slipped past his lips.
It had been nearly a year since the older man had left, clutching a suitcase in his delicate hand, his hair falling into his face and for once not bothering to push it out of the way. Soft tremors ran though his slender body, Jay had seen them from across the kitchen, and though his fingers tightened, itching to pull HeeChul into an embrace, he hadn’t dared to move forward. The man’s words had been cold and straight-forward, leaving what seemed to be no room for argument.
With a shaking hand Jay reached desperately for his cigarettes, the brand he’d never stopped smoking despite how the aroma reminded him of HeeChul every time he exhaled. It was a sort of comfort to him as the smoke filled his lungs, almost as if it held the essence of his ex and allowed him to experience the taste of him one more time. With his free hand he began to wipe his tears away, having always hated for HeeChul to see him in his weakest moments, and he sniffed back any more tears that might linger about his eyelashes, threatening to escape.
The scrape of his chair as he moved away from the table seemed deafening in the near silence, soon soothed by the soft, steady pit-pat of rain. He turned, his hand hesitant before resting against the cool glass of the window, a soft fog gathering about his fingertips. It was as if the sky was crying for him, for every time he hadn’t let himself, and a heart-breaking smile curled the corners of his lips as he took another drag of his cigarette, wondering if maybe the sky was crying for HeeChul as well.