adrift on your shores (so carry me home tonight) [i/iii]

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Title: adrift on your shores (so carry me home tonight)

Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo, Sehun/Kai
Rating: PG-13 (implied smut: assuming that you know how doing The Do works at 13)
Genre: Romance, slight!Angst
Length: Oneshot (12 782 words)
Summary: Jongin is the ocean in which Kyungsoo drowns.Special thanks to my favourite kak from over the straits, coaled for helping me beta this and putting up with my shitty formatting and stuff. Also to , who saved this fic from going into my never to be finished or seen again fic dump.

Guilt. Missed opportunities. Unspoken words. Regret.

Seconds lost to the flow of time never, ever return. Things that require a certain amount of bravery, confidence and sheer determination, along with the right timing go unsaid, undone. Seconds tick by and then the moment is gone, slips between the cracks of what is and what could be. These words, left unspoken, they never really go away. Instead, they remain locked up in the darkest recesses of your mind, silent and unassuming, until you’re tucked in bed, alone with your own thoughts. That is when they strike. That is when the mind conjures up alternate outcomes, the could have beens, had you only possessed the courage to speak – that is when it swallows you whole.

On most nights, he can almost shut it out until he falls into a fitful sleep, but there are nights when the covers do nothing for the icy feeling in his chest - when the wind brings with it a disconsolate euphony. On these nights, his thoughts consume him, pitch blackness draining out the colours of his happiest memories until the light at the end of the tunnel has disintegrated into nothingness and all he can feel is himself spiralling further into despair.

Regret.

(And loss.)

‘Hyung!’ Jongin hollers and Kyungsoo pretends not to hear him. He smiles to himself as he continues walking away, knowing it won’t take long before – ‘Hyung!’ Jongin’s voice gets steadily closer, but Kyungsoo resolutely ignores him. He pretends to fumble with his bag for something, completely paying no mind to the other boy, when the next call of his name comes. Just when he thinks Jongin has just about given up, he feels warm arms snake around his waist and suddenly his feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. There’s a warmth attached to his back, the world is spinning, and all the colours blend together as a giggle escapes his lips.

When he’s got both feet planted firmly on the ground again, he turns to face his attacker, a boy with kind brown eyes and a smile that will melt even the coldest of hearts. ‘Soo,’ Jongin whispers, and it makes Kyungsoo’s insides evaporate, because every time Jongin says his name, he feels as if he’s the only one Jongin can see, the only person in his world.

(He forgets that he is.)

‘What are you doing tonight?’ Jongin asks, tone playful as he nuzzles his face into the older’s neck. ‘All my assignments are done, so… Going out with you, I suppose?’ Kyungsoo replies. Jongin smiles against his boyfriend’s skin and mumbles a time, which Kyungsoo mentally takes note of as he turns around and tilts Jongin’s mouth towards his to catch them up in a kiss.

‘See you tonight, Soo.’

‘Tonight, Jongin.’

Kyungsoo wakes with a start, laboured breathing coming out in pants, body drenched in a light sheen of sweat mere minutes before his alarm clock is due to go off. His breath comes out heavy, gradually slowing down until they become deep and even again, and the erratic rhythm of his heart goes back to normal. He buries his face in both his palms, drawing his knees up into his chest, trying to arrange his scattered thoughts.

It has been years, really, since he last saw the eyes that haunted his dream in person. Years since those eyes peered straight into his heart like the flesh and skin and bone obstructing it was nothing, years since those eyes inspected (and memorised) every nook and cranny of his body. But weeks and months have come and gone in their absence, and although Kyungsoo hates the truth, the fact of the matter is he can still remember the exact shade of brown those eyes were, all the darker flecks decorating the irises that refract and catch the light in the most beautiful way.

Kyungsoo shakes his head as he tries to clear away the thought of those eyes (and the person they belong to), straightening up and stretching before he swings out of his bed, cold floor greeting the soles of his feet as he plants them on the ground. He inhales and exhales in a sigh before getting up and making his way to the bathroom to begin his daily routine.

There’s no use agonising over the past now.

Kyungsoo sits himself down in his cubicle and waits for his computer to power on, shuffling through the drafts and articles he’s got waiting for him on his desk. He spots a few of Chanyeol’s reviews and puts them at the bottom of the pile. He’s usually with the older when he goes to review a new restaurant, anyway, so those are going to be the easiest for him to edit. He clicks open his inbox to check on the day’s agenda – nothing out of the ordinary – before he gets to work, starting on the most difficult of the lot: Zitao’s fashion column. It’s not that Zitao can’t write – he’s got his way with words – it’s just that he kind of gets really, really excited and that’s when punctuation becomes a chore that’s not on Zitao’s roster.

Kyungsoo inhales heavily as he begins reading, pen at the ready as he sprinkles in commas and colons and full stops and quotation marks. He’s about done with the first article when a heavy weight settles across his shoulders. ‘Whatcha doing?’ a deep voice behind him drawls. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and scribbles out a message to Zitao before swivelling around in his chair to give his visitor his full attention. ‘What is it this time?’ he asks, and the sharpness of his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by the older, who winces in reply.

‘Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?’ comes Chanyeol’s question, and Kyungsoo has to physically bite back the response threatening to roll off his tongue. After all, it wasn’t Chanyeol’s fault those eyes came back to haunt him in his sleep.

It’s his own.

‘I didn’t have a good night’s rest,’ Kyungsoo murmurs, sanding down the rough edges of his tone. Chanyeol’s smile becomes noticeably more lopsided as he regards the note of quiet grief in his companion’s voice, but he doesn’t comment on it. ‘I feel you, man. Walls are thin at my place and my neighbours just got married. I haven’t been able to sleep for days, you’d think they’d be done by now,’ Chanyeol grumbles. Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and he clamps his hands over his ears. ‘Park Chanyeol – please. I really, really don’t want to know. Really,’ he says, emphasis heavy on his last word. Chanyeol smiles properly at him this time.

‘So listen – Junmyeon just pegged me for the new café that’s opening the block across from yours and I said okay and he said I have to go there on opening night – Friday, by the way – and so I said okay and –’ Kyungsoo raises a hand to cut Chanyeol off, partly because he knows where this is going, but mostly because he can feel the onset of a migraine attacking his brain. ‘I’ll go with you,’ Kyungsoo sighs, earning an even larger (he didn’t know that was possible, and he’s known Chanyeol for a while) grin from the taller man. ‘Thanks, Soo! You’re the best,’ Chanyeol hollers, excitement causing him to skip merrily off back to his own desk.

Kyungsoo watches after Chanyeol’s form, reluctant to address the next piece of work waiting for him, until he recognises the stealthy curl of regret snaking its way back to the forefront of his mind. He sighs resolutely and turns back to his desk, suddenly compelled to count how many pieces he’s expected to edit before he can go home tonight.

Thirteen, he counts, and smiles a little to himself.

It’s going to be a long, long day.

(Thank god.)

Friday rolls around and Kyungsoo finds himself in the crowded café, seated at a small corner table with Chanyeol across from him. They’d placed their orders and Kyungsoo sits as Chanyeol talks to him, completely ignoring things like ‘ambience’ and ‘décor’ and all those other details Kyungsoo will end up tacking on to his review when it comes back to him on Monday. There are lots of people – unfamiliar faces speaking in highly excited tones – but most of them are around their age, and Kyungsoo makes a mental note of the demographics of the café’s target market.

‘So I said to Zitao, y’know, why don’t you do a feature on leopard skin underwear? I mean he loves the stuff – have you seen his clothes? He has leopard print everything,’ Chanyeol says, dropping his voice to a whisper.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and nods. ‘I don’t think anyone would want to read an article on leopard skin underwear, though,’ Kyungsoo says. Chanyeol considers this for a moment and opens his mouth to say something – again – and Kyungsoo is thankful for their food as it shows up that very moment. Chanyeol surveys the dish before him – a simple club sandwich – before he scrutinises Kyungsoo’s food and leans over to take a sniff.

‘Looks good,’ he comments. ‘We won’t know until we try,’ Kyungsoo says, and he takes his first bite. The pasta tastes pretty good – exceeds his expectations for a café like this one. He munches happily and offers some to Chanyeol, who accepts. A hand clamps itself down on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and Kyungsoo all but drops his fork and almost allows all his food to fall out of his mouth (which would have been very, very unattractive, he muses) at the sight of the owner of the hand.

‘How’s your food?’ the man asks, attention all on Chanyeol for the moment.

‘It tastes great, man,’ Chanyeol responds, confusion evident on his features.

The man grins in return. ‘You’re the food review guy, right? One of Junmyeon’s guys?’ the man asks again, and Chanyeol nods.

‘Yeah. Yeah, my name’s Chanyeol, the food reviewer. I’m here to tear your place to pieces,’ Chanyeol smiles.

‘Yeah? I’m Jongin, and I own this joint. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t,’ Jongin grins. Chanyeol directs his attention to Kyungsoo, opens his mouth to introduce the two when –

‘Soo?’

Kyungsoo’s throat dries up at the sound of that voice again, the voice that becomes the soundtrack to his dreams about the eyes staring back at him. He tries to swallow, tries to move his head in a nod – but nothing works. Because – because how do you react when you finally see your first love again? How do you react when the man who’s seen right through to your soul on more than one occasion turns up, out of the blue, after years of absence? Kyungsoo doesn’t know the answer to any of these questions, so he just gapes.

‘I take it… You two know each other?’ Chanyeol’s eyes flit from his quiet friend to the café owner, trying to decipher the scene unfolding before him. ‘Yeah… Yeah, we go way back,’ Jongin’s voice comes out softer, both in tone and volume, and Kyungsoo hates that he can feel heat rise in both his cheeks. ‘You’re welcome to join us, and catch up if you like,’ Chanyeol beams. Jongin finally breaks his gaze and his smile flickers for a second. ‘No, it’s fine. I have a lot of networking to do tonight. Thanks for the offer, though.’ Jongin says to Chanyeol. He turns to face Kyungsoo. ‘It’s… It’s really good to see you again, Soo. If you’re not too busy, it’d be great if we could, um. Catch up.’

Kyungsoo just nods dumbly, listening in silence as Jongin slides his phone towards him, fingers automatically keying in his number.

Remember when you knew it by heart?

Jongin reclaims his phone and sends another one of his smiles at them before he fades into the crowd, Kyungsoo’s eyes trailing after him, disbelief evident in them. Chanyeol stares expectantly at him for all of two seconds, before – ‘Hey how do you know that guy?’ Kyungsoo’s eyes dart to Chanyeol’s face, all curiosity and eager anticipation. ‘I mean you barely ever talk about having friends outside of work, and like I’ve never seen the guy before and how exactly far back do you go?’ Chanyeol bombards him with question after question, none of them about things other than one Kim Jongin. When he pauses to catch a breath, Kyungsoo snatches at the opportunity to speak, words coming out barely audible.

‘He’s the reason I can’t sleep at night.’

Over the course of the next few days, Kyungsoo finds himself immensely distracted. Articles get sent back to him on more than one occasion, and Wufan’s writing becomes increasingly more illegible with every piece of unsatisfactory work Kyungsoo turns in. Bags of discolouration hang themselves under his eyes, and Kyungsoo begins to skip meals. He hates the concerned looks Zitao and Chanyeol give him when they think he’s not looking, hates how Junmyeon’s brow furrows in worry when he drops in to check on Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo hates how Jongin still affects him.

He goes home every night as late as possible, walks home as he replays the same internal debate in his head night after night. Some nights he decides to head straight home and falls in a heap on his couch still in his work clothes, eyelids fluttering shut as sleep claims him. Some nights he trudges home exceedingly slow, warm Styrofoam cup of coffee (from the 24 hour coffee shop near his workplace) in one hand as he attempts to stay up all night, television blaring and empty RGB images taunting his eyes until they surrender to fatigue.

In any case, he wakes up every morning feeling and looking like crap, hating himself for letting Jongin have as harsh an impact on him still.

He hates that just because of Jongin – just because of Jongin he doesn’t know which one is worse: the dreams that haunt him every night, or the terrors his mind concocts as he’s left awake and alone with them.

Either way, he can’t win.

Hey, Soo! Um – I know it’s been a while since we caught up, and I’m sorry about that. Been busy with the new café and stuff, you know how it is. Anyway, my boyfriend offered to watch the shop for me Sunday night, and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to meet? If you’re not too busy, that is. Let me know!

Jongin

PS: I really do miss you.

Kyungsoo doesn’t text him back, eyes watering at the casual throw of ‘my boyfriend’. He doesn’t bother trying to be polite, doesn’t think it’s worth the time and effort (and heartache) that comes with fitting syllables together in a response. He doesn’t even touch his phone after he reads the message, and instead leaves the device lying on the table and lets it run out of battery.

He doesn’t want to be missed.

(Or does he?)

‘Kyungsoo. This is getting ridiculous.’ Wufan’s voice is low and stern, but Kyungsoo doesn’t so much as flinch. He looks up and sees strict eyebrows drawn together in concern, his own face void of any emotion. Something inside of him feels somewhat touched – Wufan’s actually worried about him, has taken time out from his busy day (of terrifying his colleagues into meeting deadlines) to check up on him.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ says Kyungsoo. He pointedly averts his gaze from Wufan’s and adds an irrelevant comment to Chanyeol’s review (in pencil, so he can get rid of it later) with purpose, hoping the older will get the message and leave him alone.

Unfortunately for him, Wufan isn’t very easily swayed.

‘Don’t give me that attitude. You show up half an hour late to work most days looking like you’ve been up all night, miserable. Your work’s gotten sloppy, slower, and we don’t have time for that. I don’t have time for this – any of this bullshit. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with you, but you’d better fix it soon. Or I will not hesitate to find you a replacement.’ Wufan snarls and turns on his heel to stomp away, leaving Kyungsoo startled – and, surprisingly, shaken.

He drops both his pencil and the review in his hand (on which he’d written his grocery list instead of the address of the restaurant) and buries his face in his palms. He tries to gather his thoughts, get a grip on himself: but nothing’s working. Every time he tries to purge his mind of anything remotely related to Jong – him, he’s reminded of sweet nothings whispered into his ears, laced with an abundance of empty and broken promises.

Nothing hurts like Jongin does.

A gentle nudge comes to his ribs and Kyungsoo wishes it away. But he can feel the warmth of another body next to him and it doesn’t seem like it’s going anywhere, so he takes a deep breath and faces his companion. He’s greeted with two pairs of eyes immersed in concern staring down at him, one pair wide and framed by horn rimmed glasses, the other with bags of lost sleep hanging under them.

He’s about to protest – to fix up as much of his appearance and his thoughts as he can – but Zitao’s too fast, and presses a manicured finger to the elder’s thick lips. ‘You need. To get out. Of this funk,’ Zitao murmurs, the seriousness in his tone completely at odds with the obnoxiously blaring orange of the beanie on his head.

Kyungsoo sighs heavily, forces carbon dioxide and slight annoyance out through his nose as he rolls his eyes and swats Zitao’s hand away. The only thing that keeps sharp words from rolling off his tongue is the knowledge that both Zitao and Chanyeol were really only trying to help, and besides – they were his only real friends, after all. He couldn’t imagine, not for a second, confiding in Wufan the way he confides in the two of them. ‘It’s not that easy, alright?’ he says.

He hears Chanyeol exhale in a deep sigh somewhere above him, notices the man shifting, but chooses to take no notice. He’ll go away eventually. They both will. But then someone pulls his hand away from the keyboard he’s busy hammering on, longer fingers spreading his own wide open, another set of them resting his phone in the middle of his palm. The screen is illuminated, words and numbers in neat font staring up at him. Kyungsoo presses his lips together, trying not to let himself fall apart.

On the screen is Jongin’s name, his number underneath.

Chanyeol gently pats Kyungsoo on the back, before tugging Zitao along to leave.

‘It could be easy, if you’d let it be.’

Kyungsoo waits until the sun descends beyond the horizon, and darkness starts to fall around him as one by one, his colleagues leave the office.

He presses call.

Kyungsoo’s seated in a booth at a restaurant he doesn’t remember the name of, worn PVC sticking to his pants. There aren’t many people around right then, seeing as it’s only Tuesday evening, and it makes him exponentially more nervous.

The few other diners chatter amongst themselves, oblivious to the inner torment that whips through Kyungsoo’s heart, a wildfire of insecurity setting him alight. He’s got his phone on his table next to clamped hands, and his palms are sweaty and he doesn’t think this – any of this – is a good idea, really, and he should just go home, but he knows he can’t.

For one, he’s too nervous to even move, limbs cemented in their current position, static.

For another, part of him really wants to see Jongin.

The bell above the front door rings and the man himself walks through it, hair a little dishevelled, breathing a little heavy. Jongin takes a quick look around the restaurant and deep brown eyes meet Kyungsoo’s own, and the latter sincerely wishes the heat in his face doesn’t show. Jongin’s lips break out into a grin, one that brings warmth right to the middle of Kyungsoo’s chest. ‘Soo!’ he exclaims, and if it were physiologically possible, Kyungsoo thinks his heart would have broken right then and there.

Jongin sits and Kyungsoo feels muteness taking control of his vocal cords once more, finds himself at a loss as to what it is he’s supposed to say. ‘I’m so glad you could make it,’ Jongin says, and his tone is so light and friendly Kyungsoo wonders if he’d ever meant anything more to the younger man in the first place.

‘I – of course.’ Kyungsoo answers, grateful for the distraction that comes in the form of the waitress handing them their menus. He averts his gaze to the printed list before him, looks at choices of food instead of the man that represents one of the worst choices he’s ever made.

Jongin notices his discomfort though, and reaches out to put a hand on his. Kyungsoo’s breath hitches, surprised at the sudden movement, and his lungs can’t draw oxygen from the air around him. ‘Look, Soo – I don’t want things to be awkward between us.  That’s the last thing on earth that I’d want,’ Jongin says, removing his hand. ‘So – so let’s start over, alright? Hi, I’m Jongin, what’s your name?’ Jongin asks, hand held out, ready to shake Kyungsoo’s. He’s smiling that same smile again, and Kyungsoo hears a short burst of laughter escape his lips.

‘Hi, Jongin. I’m Kyungsoo,’ he says, grasping Jongin’s hand and feeling immediately at ease. It’ll be easier like this, he thinks, to get that “closure” Zitao had been preaching to him about, to finally finish the chapter of his life titled “Jongin”. He’s thankful that Jongin hasn’t changed a bit – thankful that the younger knows just how to speak to him to make him feel better, and he’s glad Jongin doesn’t hesitate to.

‘So, shall I tell you about the nightmare of a chef I have employed at the café?’ Jongin asks, right after they place their orders. ‘I have never in my life heard of food needing a stove to be at “just the right angle” to taste good before I met the guy.’

‘Diva?’ Kyungsoo asks. ‘I mean at least his food tastes good. Chanyeol’s not going to tear you guys down to pieces as long as you have the guy working the kitchen.’

‘And that’s all well and good, but come on, Soo. The moment I asked him for help with the décor he whipped out colour palettes with exact Pantone codes on them. How am I supposed to tell the difference? That’s blue, that’s blue, that’s blue, that’s blue, I said. The guy almost broke my neck, I swear.’ Jongin says, and Kyungsoo laughs. It’s nice being able to talk to Jongin like this again, nice to be able to joke around about things as light-hearted as Jongin’s meticulous chef.

It almost makes Kyungsoo forget all the times the very mention of Jongin’s name brought heartache so crippling he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.

The food comes and the two munch on it leisurely, trying their best to remember it’s impolite to speak with their mouths full, but old habits seep back into their interactions and they do anyway. Kyungsoo steadily feels more comfortable with Jongin, opens up to him again slowly, but gradually. He tells stories of Zitao’s inane trends and Chanyeol’s office pranks in return for tales of Jongin’s hapless waiters, a Luhan and a Yixing usually far too engrossed in a conversation with each other to actually get their orders right. Kyungsoo laughs and Jongin laughs, and it’s in this tiny restaurant that both of them remember why they fell for each other in the first place.

That both of them have to remind themselves that they’re supposed to be just friends, and that, Kyungsoo remembers somewhat bitterly, Jongin has a boyfriend.

The end of the meal comes and Jongin waves away Kyungsoo’s offer of going dutch. ‘I dragged you out here tonight, I should do the paying,’ Jongin reasons, and Kyungsoo doesn’t argue further. He pays the bill and they step out into the crisp night air, comfortable smiles adorning their faces.

‘We… We have to do this again sometime,’ Jongin suggests, lightly punching Kyungsoo on the shoulder. Kyungsoo just smiles in response, because all he can think is that Jongin’s hair looks really nice and soft right now, and that he’d like nothing more than to run his fingers through it. But he can’t.

‘Yeah. Yeah, we should,’ Kyungsoo finally replies. ‘But next time, I’m paying.’

Jongin pretends to consider Kyungsoo’s proposal for a few minutes, mouth pouting slightly in thought. ‘Okay,’ he says, and returns Kyungsoo’s smile. They bid each other goodbye and turn in opposite directions, walking away from each other to their respective homes.

Somewhere behind him Kyungsoo hears the ring of Jongin’s phone, followed by the sound of him unlocking it. ‘Hello, Sehunnie?’ Jongin says, and Kyungsoo decides to walk just a little bit faster, to let the cold of the night engulf him before that fire starts up in his chest again. He doesn’t know if the blur in his vision is because of how his entire world is spinning out of control or if it’s because of the tears that are starting to form in his eyes, but he can’t see straight either way. And then there’s that self-hatred again – there’s that ever present question of how he could continue letting Jongin affect him like this.

And even if he’s only a few feet away from Jongin, and even though he’d just spent three hours catching up with him, Kyungsoo feels as though he misses him even more now than he did before.

On certain occasions, Kyungsoo feels like he knows what it’s like to drown. He feels like he knows what it’s like to be surrounded by endless blue, encased in a body of water that pushes him down and compresses his chest. The lack of oxygen, the rising panic, the imminent fear of where all this will ultimately bring him – all of these feelings were strikingly similar to the kind of feelings he gets when he’s around Jongin.

Because when he’s with Jongin, he feels free and chained all at once. He feels the burden weighing down on his heart become ten times lighter, but at the same time he knows he has to restrain himself, has to stop refrain from letting himself be too free with the younger. Jongin isn’t his anymore, and that’s a fact Kyungsoo feels most at odds with, that he has the most trouble grasping.

Every time their hands touch, it’s as if Kyungsoo gasps out bubbles of precious air, slowly letting go of the one thing that keeps him alive and as close to well as he’ll ever be. Jongin’s smile is additional water being poured into the ocean Kyungsoo’s drowning in, the younger’s every laugh increasing the pressure that weighs him down. Jongin is the undercurrent that jerks Kyungsoo this way and that, the occasional whirlpool that leaves the latter dazed and confused. Jongin is the thing that toys with Kyungsoo’s sanity the most, but he’s also the only one who can make him feel remotely alive again.

Sometimes Kyungsoo thinks that drowning in Jongin would be his ideal way to die.

ii.