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Like paintings in a picture frame, a grappling stillness allured Jongin. It moved him like the tides of water would, gently easing him down to the sensation. His body felt heavier, clothes sticking to his bones as his first skin melted. He breathed as the space confined him in, coaxing him into its arms.
There was little left warmth in him, and with the tides of the void, it faded — leaving his body bit by bit, chipping away faster than an old painting succumbing to the hands of Time.
Half past the living room, water had begun to rise. It wet the ankles of the chairs and the tables, the foot of the sofa and drowned the carpet. The tap dribbled away into the tub, crying tears Jongin didn't have the courage to hold.
Surrendering to the cold back of the tub, he shuddered out a breath. The water soaked through his clothes, a coolness mixed with his blood. It melted into each piece of mahogany and sandalwood, the brown walls tightening around the core.
The ceramic tiles of the bathroom reflected the speckled neon lights outside, flashing pinks and greens and yellows into his tired eyes. He didn't want to see anymore.
In the calmness, he let himself go.
Deep down, he slid under the water, till he was all but a coral under sea.
He breathed out.
The water bubbled.
Outside, the moon shivered in the sky as dark clouds surrounded to drown it.
_____
There was glitter on the hardwood floor, scattered in the midst of mismatched shoes. From his crumpled body thrashed on the vanity, he took in the sight of leftover candle wax and polaroids on his floor. Little bottles were turned upside down by the mirror, empty by now.
He was still fully clothed. A surprise, but a welcomed one.
There were bigger bottles, green ones laying by him, some empty and others at half. Puffs of gray clouded his lungs. It was only then he realized he was awake. That, and the irritating knocking on his door.
“You have my keys.”
“I had to make sure I was not about to intrude.”
Chanyeol's body looked disproportionate — the legs longer than before sauntering in first, the torso and head seemingly dragging along at a slower momentum; coat dangling off his shoulders and bottles barely clinging on in his hands.
“I thought you left drinking.”
“And I know you're not over him.” The door shut loudly behind him, the clash of glass bottles on the table even louder. Jongin winced at the sound.
“What makes you say so?”
There was a bite in his throat, a slit that left blood pouring into his voice. “You didn't invite me. On New Year's.”
Jongin looked at him incredulously. “That is what you are angry about!”
“Fuckin hell Jongin no!”
“Then? You damn well know you didn't fit in the group and you never showed up before so why now?”
“Because goddamnit I thought someone else was with you then! But they never were and they never fucking will be and if I am not with you now then… who else?” Chanyeol softened, as much it was possible for him to. “I know. I know I don't fit into your world of feather boas and faux furs and two pots to lead a show.”
Who else… the phrase orbited in his mind like he revolved around Chanyeol. Who goddamn else if not Chanyeol.
“But I want to.” He was even softer now, voice barely above a choke. Jongin all but stared as Chanyeol shoved the bottle near his mouth and tipped it over, the liquor harshing its way down his throat the way Jongin did. He gulped down every bit like he always had, choking back his discomfort, shielding it with the pink that Jongin was.
“Hell Jongin, I want to. So much that I am suffocated by my own rings and rules. All that I am — for you.” With an abrupt halt, the liquor in his hand stilled from swishing inside the bottle.
“I can make space for you.”
The second time Chanyeol had cried was in his office. Surfing through files, Jongin had come across an old envelope. It was battered and stamped out, but warm. Must have been loved, Jongin mused when he brought it over to Chanyeol's desk, where by Chanyeol stayed seated on his chair, a hand over his eyes.
He had nudged Chanyeol on the arm, and took a seat on his lap. With the remainder of his strength, Chanyeol's arm circled around his waist loosely, holding him as if to not let him go too far.
Delicately, Jongin took out the contents of the envelope. The first picture was that of Chanyeol himself, holding a puppy. He looked right about he did now, but Jongin knew, by the lack of lines on his face, the galaxy shining in his eyes and full dimples, the picture was older than their relationship. It was signed by his sister — a birthday present.
The second picture was of them. It was before eve, the moon hanging by a fingernail in the sky as neon lights colored them in the balcony where they were basking in ignorant glory. The lights gloated around them, intoxicating Jongin and disquieting Chanyeol.
“Were we ever that young?”
Even though Chanyeol didn't speak, Jongin got his answer as a tear slipped down from Chanyeol's eye, a betrayal wiped away with one hand.
The glitter on the floor would be hard to clean, Jongin perceived as he picked at the littering candle wax. The polaroids would take one sweep, but he knew he would have to vacuum for the glitter to go. He cursed under his breath as he looked around, thinking of the grueling hours of clean up tomorrow would bring.
Chanyeol was still seated by the table, alcohol whirling in his hand.
“Did you gaze at medusa before coming here?”
Jongin still didn't know what to do when Chanyeol looked at him like that, nor when his joke was met with truth. “If only you were the medusa, I would know I was petrified gazing at nothing but perfection.”
The second time Chanyeol let someone in his apartment was met by an uproar of the puppies.
“No no no no …” Chanyeol kept on muttering as he picked the two rascals up and put them in their area surrounded by soft toys, two beds and a barrier tall enough so they could not escape. Even then, they continued to bark, not allowing either of the men to speak.
That was the first time Chanyeol sang in front of an audience. With no music, no accompaniments, he thought of the last song he had played and sang, lulling not only the puppies but also his boy into a state of bliss. In the quietude, he lay back on the sofa, his arm curling around the warm body beside him.
Blearily, Kim Kai looked up from his daze to the lights. “I think you could birth a galaxy with your voice.”
Chanyeol lived up to the humor, a smile playing on his lips. “Yet I would look at the stars shine through your eyes.”
If his life wasn't funny, it would just be true. Jongin rubbed his face with his hand, the oily warmth sticky on his palm. Only then did he feel how viscid the atmosphere was, filled with smoke and echoes of Chanyeol's words.
“Don't do this to me.”
Chanyeol looked at him, half of his face hidden behind the bottle. “Do what?” His words were as slurred as his thoughts.
“This.” It hissed out from within him like bellowing steam, an aggression he didn't mean but now decided to stand by.
“What this?”
The first time Chanyeol had ventured into space, was because of and with Jongin. Now that Chanyeol remembers it, he wishes he didn't. But the moon kept him reminded.
A star lost in the galaxy: Kim Kai returns from sudden disappearance, causing a relief to the masses and partner.
‘Partner,’ a bitter word in Chanyeol's mouth. It was one of those nights where Chanyeol had forgotten about Jongin's partner. When the rain drummed louder than logic, and they found themselves lost in a sea where their only evestar was each other. And then the clouds parted and twilight came in with her nonchalance: Jongin was never his.
A star lost to the galaxy: Kim Kai announces hiatus and permanent separation from partner, actor and recruiter Kim Woo, after a dirty move from …
The media had been taken by a storm when he had issued the statement. “My aim is not to halt Kai's career, but prove what a lowlife scoundrel Kim is. He was scared to say everything himself, and that's when I stepped in. I love Kai as you all do…
…but even more, he thought, as Jongin took him by a storm. He screamed till his voice drowned in his guilt, till his conscience rang in his ears and blood thrummed with newfound freedom. Chanyeol did not expect gratitude, but he knew it was the first night in many that Jongin went to sleep by will.
With a profound disdain, Jongin picked up the coat he had long discarded on the floor. Dusting off the glitter, he brought out two small packets before hanging it on the rack beside Chanyeol's. Blankly, Chanyeol watched as Jongin deposited the packets on the vanity, amongst all the other bottles and perfumes and make-up.
There were no questions asked, yet he felt a draining compulsion to answer. Not the truth, but a response. “Baby powder.”
Chanyeol nodded, taking another swig. The bottle was now finished. In the bright, feverish glow of the city and his lights, Chanyeol appeared pink and blurry. Again, with mismatched walks, Chanyeol strided in front of him. Impulsively, he brought a hand around Chanyeol, supporting him with all he could.
“You know Jongin,” Chanyeol whispered into his ear, “Every time I imagine water without any containers, I think of you.” He paused, breathing heavily.
“How you could spill into any void, and fill it up. How callous and careless it is to try and fit you into anything, even into the mold of a lover. My lover.”
Jongin's breath hitched in his throat, a knife grazing his gut.
Chanyeol didn't stop. “You soothe without any return, leaving yourself to cool you. But water then warms, doesn't it?” He lightly squeezed his waist. “Water heats up, and then what happens?”
Chanyeol lightly bit his ear, teething at his lobe before nudging at his neck with his nose. Shockwaves went through Jongin's body.
Over the last few months, they had drifted far and beyond; never orbiting each other but somehow, always gravitating to one another.
Jongin's taciturnity was met by Chanyeol's garrulousness. It was unlikely that Jongin would thank Chanyeol for his actions, but by and by, with small clips of songs and dance, Chanyeol knew he wasn't completely unforgiven.
Leaving fleeting kisses on his neck, Chanyeol questioned again, “What happens then Nini?”
“It vapors,” Jongin whispered out, his senses evaporating with every action of Chanyeol.
Humming, Chanyeol nipped at his skin, before soothing the aching areas with misty kisses.
“Yes,” Chanyeol murmured against his skin. “You evaporate. You get all dizzy-faced amongst your feather boas and faux coats and neons, that you forget to breathe — to soothe yourself — and then the ocean is gone and I am left alone in the scalding sand.”
Jongin choked out a breath as Chanyeol trailed up his neck. “And it is agonizingly painful, to watch an endless mass of potential and vigor get reduced to a mere puddle. At least, after that, nature replenishes the ocean. But why won't you let me rain down on you!”
It took all of Jongin to not cry when he felt Chanyeol's lips on his. Dizzy-faced, dizzy dizzy … heat … warm — Jongin arched towards him, letting Chanyeol drown in him.
Evaporate.
When both of them broke away, the world was dizzy. Jongin brokenly continued to stare into Chanyeol's eyes. There was a mixture of Saturn and Sade in his eyes — the hunger calling to him, begging him to return.
“Sade was the best thing that happened to me.”
This was the first time Jongin referred to that planet — to their mishap of an adventure and beginning.
“But Chanyeol, some people don't deserve it.”
With a conviction fuelling his voice, he turned his gaze to the coat on the rack. The door wasn't that farther away.
Chanyeol nodded. With staggered steps, he moved as the polaroids and glitter crunched underneath his shoes, dragging his coat on him and exiting through the door before the smoke could reach the words to him: Some people don't deserve your love.
As the moon hung low in the sky, clouds threatened to hide it.
Inhaling another puff, he had only one thought: who else Jongin, if not you?
The smoke carried off his thoughts into the sky, yet his lover's ears stayed deaf. The flame of his cigarette ran cold.