f✗ck that sh✗t

[ text » taiga ] because im cute too :c 

[ text » taiga ] omg did you just 

[ text » taiga ] ????? 

[ text » taiga ] ask me?? to hav e a niCE DAY??? 

"oh yeah, i forgot. you’re a cuddler," he says, but he rolls onto his side anyway, wrapping his own arm around jongdae’s naked frame and pulling him closer. he has to admit that it is warmer this way, and while he doesn’t really care much about whether they cuddle or not, he’s definitely more comfortable with the warmth radiating from the other’s body.

scoffing, jongdae lifts his head slightly, just so he can see taemin's face whilst he scrunches up his nose in distaste. "you're hugging me anyway so i don't see why i have to say please," he replies before nuzzling back into taemin's chest, the warmth once again comfortable. "next time maybe," he adds after a moment of silence.

jongdae's not too sure why he enjoys this so much -- the warmth of someone else against him but it's better than sleeping alone in the cold, a concept he's all too used to. and perhaps it should be a little weird -- this relationship him and taemin have because there had been a time when taemin was perhaps one of the only people jongdae had let close enough into his life before he began pushing everyone he knew away. 

but he doesn't lets his mind wander too much, instead he yawns and tightens the grip he has on taemin's waist, as though if he were to loosen it, taemin, along with his warmth, would run away.

and even if he could manage to speak, he couldn’t find the proper words to explain his broken thoughts. something along the lines of i don’t know why i came to you, of all people, or i don’t know what to do without you anymore seemed fitting, but they never left his lips, because his vision speckled, jongdae’s face blurring, and jongin’s legs finally gave out, body unable to handle the blood that drained from his wound and the stress of standing upright.

maybe now, it was okay to give up. maybe he served his purpose in his life, as unfulfilling as it seemed.

and jongdae could feel himself easily faltering. hadn't this been what he'd dreamt of? to see jongin so close to death that he could almost taste it -- for this sort of retribution. hadn't this been something he'd hoped for for so long, had spent nights pondering over.

so he couldn't understand the thundering in his chest, the way it dipped low into his stomach at the sight of jongin and his wounds. he was dying and jongdae, for once in so long, couldn't feel anything but the way his chest was tangling, almost in a way that was unfamiliar to him. hadn't he waited for this day?

and yet he was shaking, losing the feeling in his fingers as he tore his gaze away, almost painfully so. "finally," he managed to say, and there were a lot of firsts. because for the first time in so long, his voice broke, a strangled choke instead of a simple reply like he'd hoped for. don't die, he almost said, words nearly slipping past his lips before he capped them shut. threw them into the back of his mind, words that he sincerely hoped would never cross his mind again.

"i'm almost sad," he said and cruelly he let his eyes wander back towards the files, names that he had no interest in but were somehow a lot more easier to look at than the man in front of him. "i," he began and again he choked up. he was losing composure -- the kind of composure he'd spent years building up when it came to kim jongin. "that i wasn't the one to wreck you like this."

don't.

he couldn't do this. he was wavering and he knew it. he could tell by the way his bottom lip was quivering, how his eyes suddenly lost focus of everything and how his mind was screaming at him to get the hell out of there whilst his heart (or whatever was left of it) yelled at him to reach out for the one person he thought he was able to trust once upon a time.

but then he could feel jongin. could physically feel him as he slumped against jongdae and everything paused. jongdae froze and he could feel his resolve breaking. shattering.

he used his free arm to wrap around jongin's back, curling his finger's against the damp fabric of the other male and maybe, perhaps, for a second he allowed himself the opportunity to touch jongin one last time, almost embracing him in a way he hadn't in years.

don't.

"what the fuck are you doing?" he asked and suddenly he was unwilling to let go, knowing fully well that if he did he wouldn't find it in himself to embrace jongin again. that this was the last and first time he'd allow himself the pleasure (or pain) of holding onto a boy he'd let go of long ago.

"get off me," he grumbled but he remained unmoving, with jongin in his grasp. jongin still close to him. "get off. i... hate you," the words were rough and with the last two words jongdae had let his finality blow. choked words turning into soft sobs, vision turning hazy as his eyes slowly welled up with unwanted tears (just as unwanted as he felt by jongin for years). "i fucking hate you," he continued and he tried his hardest to keep the sobs silent but there was no use. his heaving chest had long given him away, the way he clung onto jongin as if unwilling to ever let go was a sign of weakness. a sign he hadn't wanted to show in years.

"die kim jongin--" don't "-- fucking leave--" stay "--can't you just die already?"

fingers clutching tighter, jongdae momentarily removed his hands, and the sight of red had him widening his eyes. immediately he held onto jongin once more. like a child he was afraid -- afraid of letting his favourite toy go.

{ ... }

somehow, amid the bleariness of his mind, he landed on the doorstep of the single person worthy enough of seeing jongin in his final moments.

he banged weakly on his door. “open up,” he shouted, too exhausted to regulate his emotions, strain evident in his voice. he laughed then, hysterically, and went on. “guess what jongdae? you got your wish. i’m going to die. i’m dying. i hope you’re happy. i hope you’re finally happy.”

"to better understand our company," his father had said. to which jongdae had half a mind to reply with, "all we do is kill."

"kim... seukbin..." jongdae sighed, grabbing at his coffee as he gulped it down in one shot before bringing in his thumb and forefinger to massage his temples. growing up, jongdae had easily acquired the skill to memorize the names of people he knew he'd never have a genuine interest in.

in fact jongdae hardly ever took a genuine interest in people -- the last time he'd done so it had ended in him losing whatever kind of trust he grew to give. the last time he'd done so, he was made to look like a fool that could only believe.

at least killing people was more efficient, a job that could be done easily in a span of five minutes if executed correctly. having to pretend that he cared about people was honestly harder than having to kill them. this was something jongdae always caught himself thinking about. how he could see himself killing in the next ten years or so but not sitting in a big chair, leading a company instead. twisted, jongdae would sometimes realize, but then again he was the son of one of seoul's most successful ceo and killer. he had every right to be twisted.

and then came the familiar voice (a voice he wished he couldn't recognize but it was the same voice that rung in his head almost every night) and for a moment his eyes faltered, reading coming to a halt as his body froze. ignore it, he breathed, focusing back on the files, the names that suddenly stole all his interest when just five seconds ago he wanted nothing to do with them.

but it was hard when the voice only grew louder, knocking more incessant and -- christ -- why couldn't he go away?

"fucking," jongdae sighed before he stood up, grabbing his gun and the file filled with nothing but information about future clients, as he walked towards the door. he had wavered slightly though when the intensity of jongin's words fell onto his ears. but he couldn't find in himself to care enough (because he had cared too much at one point).

surprisingly enough he had no qualms about opening the door, gun tucked in his back pocket. "what the fuck do you want?" he asked, eyes not once straining away from the words on his files. "i'm giving you five seconds before i shoot you through the skull and slam this door in your fucking face cunt bag," he said, voice surprisingly calm despite the anger building up in him.

finally, he pulled his gaze away from his file and his eyes fell onto jongin. and there it was, the familiar sinking feeling -- the one that had caused him sleepless nights spent alone in the corner of his room, the one that had him giving up every little ounce of trust he once had in people, the one that made him feel like a fool. but it was also the one that only jongin could get out of him.