hismelody: (joochan_242)
Song Sihyun ([personal profile] hismelody) wrote2022-08-11 02:21 am
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July gives way to August, and with it, though the muggy weather is no less oppressive, S finds his mood lightening a little. It's strange, probably, associating summer with death. It also can't be helped. He's not half as far gone now as he was in those first couple of years, but the loss of his parents is never going to be an easy one to bear, and the days and weeks around the anniversary of their deaths are always going to hurt. Likewise strange is how grief begets grief. For that, he always feels guilty. J is here, after all, alive and well. They've had nearly a year and a half together now that they weren't supposed to have gotten, and S really is, he thinks, the happiest he's ever been. But when that loss rears its head, even happiness hurts. He never got to come out to his parents, never told them how he felt about J. They never got to see him as he is now. They weren't there when he lost the love of his life, a storm he weathered entirely on his own, and something he'll always carry with him. At times like this, it's just a little closer to the surface than usual.

He tries not to let it emerge completely, holding it at bay as best he can. It's a hard time of year, that's all, and at least J knows that already. It makes him a little quieter than usual, and a little more inclined to bring up his parents, something he doesn't typically do all that often, especially knowing that can be a difficult subject for J in different ways. Like a dark cloud slowly but inexorably passing in front of the sun, though, it starts to ease — not like the flip of a switch, exactly, but a more gradual, less noticeable change, some of it lingering still, some of it substantially better. He's still a bit distracted, but he also has a chance to start catching up on the things he didn't feel up to a couple of weeks ago. It's something.

It lets him do more with J, too. Not that he was distant before, but they're both introverted by nature, and with the weight of all that grief, he's more inclined to want to stay in with the one person who understands it, who saw him through it back then. He's tried before, more than once, to try to tell J just how grateful he is for that, how much it meant and still means to him, but there are never the words. All he can really do is attempt to make it up to him in any small ways he can, smiling faintly as J suggests plans, only for him to realize that's the one day he'll be otherwise occupied. "Ah, maybe the day after?" he offers instead, just distracted enough that he doesn't really register what he's saying until the words are out of his mouth. "I have a doctor's appointment that day."
beklemmt: (pic#14832632)

[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-09-24 07:07 am (UTC)(link)
The shove is nothing at all, just enough to make J bite back a small, relieved laugh. It's reassuring. They're alike in this, too — it's something he'd likely say and do, too, in S's position. He's done it before, and he knows it means, however hard this is, something good has broken through. Sometimes that part hurts, but it's important, it's progress, and it's enough that S feels up to that either way. He just squeezes S's hand, burying his face in S's hair, giving him space to find his way to whatever comes next.

That, too, comes as something of a relief. If S had decided he wanted to drop things here, J would go along with it. Of course he would. There'd always be the option to try again later, but even so, it would be on S's terms, always. J just doesn't want to go back to how it was before now, not if they can do otherwise.

"I promise," he says, quietly fervent. It doesn't feel like quite enough of an answer, but he needs a moment before he continues. "And... and sometimes it might be. I won't know until I know, but when I do, I'll tell you. But you — you won't make anything worse. Believe me, darling, you won't. If it did feel like a problem, ah, I'd probably already..." He pulls a face. Months, years, of living like this and he still doesn't have a way to name it that feels right to him. It makes it worse sometimes, not knowing what to call it, in the moments when it feels too flippant to name it madness, too expansive just to be a voice. "I wouldn't be doing well already, would I? It's mostly then that these things are too hard now."

There are varying degrees of that, of course. Sometimes it's just a day that's difficult, not like the endless weeks or months that drove him to his end, and that's unpredictable. He hopes, though, that he's doing well enough now, comparatively speaking, that he'd be able to voice that to S and not just dive in blindly and get them both hurt. He's never entirely sure of that, but he hopes all the same.

"You tell me too," he adds. "If you don't feel like being seen that way. It doesn't have to be all or nothing, okay?"
beklemmt: (pic#15012878)

[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-10-03 08:03 am (UTC)(link)
J lets out a soft breath of relief, nodding. Every word, every promise, feels like moving forward, and he's thankful for it. As much progress as he often knows he's made since he came here, there are still times when it's easy to feel mired in place or, worse, like he's losing ground, falling backwards into bad habits or fucking up. It doesn't even have to be true for him to feel that way. There are things he just can't shake, behaviors he doesn't know how to undo and thoughts he can't get rid of, and it's hard not to feel stuck, like he'll never truly be better. And maybe that's true. Maybe the things that are wrong in him will be wrong forever. But he's gotten better at mastering some of it, and as long as the pair of them can make progress together, then he can live with the parts of him left standing in place.

"I love you," he murmurs, taking a deep breath, inhaling the warm familiar scent of S's hair. Ducking his head a little lower, he presses a soft kiss to S's neck, tugging him close. "That's all we can do, tell each other." That and trusting each other are what makes them work so well, he knows, and it's been more important to him than ever of late, being able to do both. He's still so painfully aware of his shortcomings and all the ways in which he used to be a terrible boyfriend. Unlike with much else of his self-flagellation, though, at least this he can put to use, working to do better. At least he's all the more sure now in their mutual faith; he can't doubt that S will stop him when he needs to and communicate what he wants and doesn't want when they've spent so much time pushing their boundaries over the last year, both in and out of the bedroom. If anything, it's easier when it comes to physical things, even as mundane as getting dressed or showering. He huffs, an almost-laugh, lips curving wryly. "And you know what to say if you ever need me to slow down."

Granted, he thinks, it's not like this is something that only applies to sex. There may be days one or both of them simply don't want to or don't feel up to dealing with the memories this brings. Still, he thinks that S will appreciate being teased a little. J can't always handle that, either, when things get rough emotionally; it's often too difficult for him to let go of his hurt so quickly. For S, though, he thinks it comes as a relief, a way for him to ease back into control. Of course, now that he's said that, J can't help thinking about how fun it is to make S lose control instead, but it's hardly the time for that, he tells himself. They've just barely worked up to this much as it is.
beklemmt: (declamando)

[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-10-04 09:44 pm (UTC)(link)
J hushes him, stroking S's hair. "Don't be sorry," he says. He knows S wants to say it, that he must know J won't begrudge him the need to cry, and J won't tell him he can't. He just also isn't going to pretend he thinks it's necessary. As much as he dislikes the fact of S having kept things from him, it's not like he doesn't understand now why he did, and it's hardly as if J has been anything approaching perfect on that front himself. However hard they both try to do better, there are going to be times they both fail. It could have been much worse. What matters more is how S has felt all this time, whether or not he wasn't wholly conscious of it.

"You can't help what you felt," he says, "whether you realized it or not." And at least he managed to get a tiny laugh out of S, a small victory in the face of all this heartache. "And I... I wish you'd said something, I do. But I get it." It's hard. With all they have to deal with, they've had to fight to be honest and open. It's not an easy thing, talking about all the elements of this, even assuming they're aware of them ahead of time; they know every time they do, it's going to hurt. Of course they try to flinch away. Pushing through that has been difficult, and he's pretty sure they should get some kind of award for how often they manage to do it anyway. That S talked himself into thinking it wasn't necessary in this one way, that it would do more harm than good, isn't entirely surprising, and as much as J wants to know these things, he can't blame S for thinking he wouldn't want the reminder or for being afraid of what a reminder might do to J.

"You want to protect me," he murmurs. "I know. And I want to say you don't have to protect me from myself and what I did, but I'm the biggest threat to me, aren't I? Tell me anyway. Please. Don't be alone with these things. Not the parts you didn't know, you can't help that, but anything. I want everything, Hyunie, all of you. And that includes this. I don't want you to be unhappy, but you don't have to apologize for this."

He's all too aware that it's something S very likely would say to him — that he has, in fact, said variations on this before — and he's probably being a bit of a hypocrite. He doesn't care. It's easier to say it to S, meaning it wholly, than to take it to heart for himself. All the same, he's painfully familiar with how easy it is to feel things without quite untangling what they are and how intensely he's feeling them. He can't possibly fault S for going through that, too.
beklemmt: (delicato)

[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-10-12 06:34 am (UTC)(link)
J huffs, a sound that's nearly a laugh, but more sad than anything else. It isn't fair. In some ways, he's alright with that, because it means he gets to be with S still, but it's unfair all the same that S has to put up with all of this for it. He's already dealt with so much in his life. There were so many times when they were younger that J thought about how he wanted to be something simple and safe for S; it always seemed like an impossible dream. He could be a safe place and the fact of their companionship could be simple, but everything else around them meant it could never be as easy as he wanted it to be. Now it might as well be a fairy tale.

S would choose it every time, he knows that. He still wishes he could take away at least the worst of it. "You don't want me to be either," he points out, his voice a little rougher than he expects, throat aching. It hurts just to know that being together means S will never get away from any of this, never be able to put this past behind him, and it hurts to know that would be true even if J weren't here. He's the only one who bears the blame for that. S shouldn't have to feel badly for having any kind of reaction to it.

He sighs, a little shaky. "I hate it," he admits, though it's not much of a confession. "Ah, so much. I fucked up... immeasurably, and you... you have to live with all of it. It's not fair. All the things I did to you, all the things you learned, trying to keep me safe. It doesn't go away if we don't talk about it, but talking about it might make it better or make it worse. And I can't tell you not to worry, just to be honest without ever thinking about it, and I wish I could." It would be cruel to say it without any reservations or caveats when J knows all too well how fragile he sometimes is. Knowing that S sometimes holding back makes sense just makes him feel so painfully weak. "I do want everything, though."
beklemmt: (delicato)

[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-10-19 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
J closes his eyes, a little overwhelmed. He is, he thinks, grateful, at least that S understands things better now than he did before. It helps. It just hurts, too, realizing there are things S knows that he never should have had to, that he only knows because J has to, and he never wanted to. Even now, when he's in a decent patch of time where things aren't, generally, too awful, it makes him ache, the unfairness of it. No matter how much better things get, it's always there, the possibility, the threat, of the floor dropping out from under him. For that matter, it feels less possible than inevitable. It sucks a little of the contentedness from his otherwise peaceful days, such as they are. At moments like this, it just makes him bitterly sad. There's so much they'll never get away from. His madness is wound up in that inextricably, but it feels like too much of a burden to have to be this way still.

He wants to apologize for that being the case, and he wants to get angry, too, that it is. He did terrible things, but the way he's felt, he's felt for years. Everything started to crumble beneath him long before he hurt anyone, at least physically. Whatever punishment he might deserve for his crimes, this started well before that, when he had already suffered needlessly for too long. It's hard to untangle what he deserves from what he doesn't. All he's really sure of is that it's exhausting and it hurts.

And that S is right. Letting out another unsteady breath, he nods, still tracing idle designs against S's back. The part he doesn't want to say is how much that's true in general, not just in this instance, how he's become aware over the months of that. The less he says about what's wrong, the worse it is. He can't let that happen here, with this. He faltered in the winter, not quite seeing it until it was too late. He won't let himself do that again. At least, he'll try. He won't put S through that.

"Those reasons aren't going anywhere," he says softly. "I'd have to be even crazier to pretend otherwise." He remembers a little of that first day, recalls it in bits and pieces, and he knows a taste of how it felt then, how sure he was he couldn't live with all of this — or, rather, that he wouldn't, that it would be agony to go on in the knowledge of all he'd done and the pain he'd already carried with him. That it wouldn't be worth the pain of it. He was wrong about it not being worth it, but much of what was true then is true now. It's only life with S and the things he's learned since then that make it possible for him to be here still. Without all that, he thinks, he would have fallen entirely apart long ago. Again.

"I won't try to," he adds, voice still low, thinking aloud even as he overthinks in his head. "But I do think it'll mostly be okay. Right now, it's fine. And when it isn't... well, then you can just... hold me a little and remind me that some of that is because I got you to the hospital fast enough." His voice turns wry, a little embarrassed. It feels strangely self-aggrandizing even now to treat what he did as even vaguely heroic, though he's learned to accept that his actions that night both nearly killed S and saved him. "Or, if you need, I can hold you and remind you... whatever you need. How ridiculously in love with you I am."
beklemmt: (pic#15013073)

[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-10-24 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
Though he's the one that mentioned it first, though he felt foolish doing so, J can't help the way tears spark when S says that. His feelings around this will always be complicated. He's not sure there's any way for them not to be. Still, it's comforting to hear that and to feel some shred of truth in it. Whatever led them to that point, though he can't ignore it, he can try to hold onto that part, too, that he did the right thing in the moment.

Sometimes it feels very small. Compared to the terrible things he did, he supposes it is, that it isn't much to save a life when he's ended others. He's past pretending, though, that it wasn't the life he cared most about in the end. Sometimes it feels small for other reasons, because S has saved him, too, and still does, again and again. J isn't even sure if he understands that entirely, beyond the obvious fact of J's still being alive. Or being alive again, as it were. He doesn't think he's ever voice it really, how much it wasn't just one day or one act, how it's been S every day of his time here, how it was weeks before he felt like he could get through a day without wondering if maybe they both wouldn't be better off without him alive. He doesn't want S to think it's still a constant, pressing thing, even if he can't claim it isn't still, at times, present.

"We save each other," he settles on, soft, a tiny smile rising at the sight of S's, a slim, fragile thing, and terribly precious. Lifting his hand, he brushes his knuckles along S's cheek, then huffs out a little laugh. "Ah, even from the start. Even when all you could do was bring me a bandaid. Really, Sihyun-ah, I love you so much — dressed or undressed or half-dressed." He's settled a little since he came here, isn't saying it every five seconds, but that doesn't mean he savors it any less. It feels good to be able to say it and to hold S close, to feel sure he's loved in spite of it all. His hand slipping to S's waist, he brushes his thumb against soft skin, small reassuring strokes. "I like you every way that you are." After a moment, he adds, "How are you? Feeling okay, darling?"
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[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-10-26 07:06 am (UTC)(link)
For a moment, J's instinctive response to that drowns out the rest; it's hard not to think how many parts of him there are not to like, hard not to point that out. He swallows it back. In the end, that's what matters, after all. S knows those parts of him, knows him more intimately than anyone else ever could, in ways he'd never want anyone else to know him. He's still here.

And, anyway, S's face is pressed close to him, his body more relaxed in J's hold than it was before, and that matters more. J ducks his head, kissing S's hair. "So am I," he murmurs. It was more of a gesture than anything else, not much use when he had more than one scrape and a number of bruises, but no one else offered even that much attention or support. No one else ever really had, his mother excepted. He'd been so anxious that it would prove to be a trick, scared to let himself hope it was real kindness or that S wouldn't learn better. He never has, apparently, and J's glad of that too.

"You're not stupid," he adds. "You can feel it, but you aren't. How many times have I completely fallen apart? Was that stupid?" He's had his reasons, however foolish he feels for them in the moments after he starts to calm down. It's embarrassing and exhausting, breaking down like that, crying and cursing and frightened of shadows. But there are real monsters in those shadows, and he's not wrong to be afraid.

S has his reasons, too. J wishes he'd seen them sooner, that he'd known how to soothe S's worries before they got this bad, but S didn't know either. They're still figuring out how to live around and through and with all of this. As much as he hates the mess that leaves behind, he doesn't think they could do much better. It's not like theirs is a history that cleaves to the usual trajectory of more ordinary relationships, no guidelines or suggestions written out for how to navigate this. "You're doing the best you can, darling. Of course it's overwhelming. I shouldn't have waited so long to say something." Maybe this would have been easier a year ago. J's not sure of it, not quite certain he could have handled it then, but at least he wouldn't have let it fester so long.
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[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-11-20 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
J scoffs, wry and fond and tired. "Of course it does," he says dryly. "I feel like an idiot every time it happens to me. I hate it. I keep thinking I shouldn't be like that anymore, I should be able to cope better, but I can't help it." It feels a little awkward to admit these things — not the part about how stupid he feels for getting upset when he does, because that's obvious and easy enough to say. He says as much when it happens, too, embarrassed and overwhelmed. It's the rest of it that's strange and difficult. He's not used to granting himself any grace. "But it's not, is it? I have reasons to be upset. Even when they don't make sense, I have reasons. I'm not doing it for fun. Neither are you. You can fall apart now and then."

He's here, after all, to hold S together through it and help patch him back up, the way S has always done for him. As much as he feels horrible afterward for the way he behaves and reacts, it's a bit easier — if also more embarrassing — because S is at his side. He just hopes he can offer a little of the same comfort.

"You had reasons too," he adds after a moment, "for not saying anything. I wish it wasn't like that, but... you can't be sure. I'm..." He hesitates, unsure which of the dozen unflattering possibilities to choose. "Volatile. I'm — I'm trying, I really am, but you can't know how I'd react."
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[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-12-05 08:08 am (UTC)(link)
J sniffles, nodding against S's hair. He knows all too well how that feels. He's done that to S too many times to count and in proportionally much worse ways. "I know," he murmurs. "I love you so much. I wish — I wish I weren't so easy to hurt." It's hard on him, being so fucking fragile all the time, but it's hard for S, too, he knows. S is, he's pretty sure, more or less used to having to adjust for J's issues, trying to compensate for problems that might arise, guessing at things that might set J off. He dances around topics like this to keep J safe. He shouldn't have to be used to it, though. J hates that this is how it has to be. But if he wants S to accept that things can't be the way they used to, that he's not going to magically be fixed, then he has to try and make himself understand that too. Sometimes he actually does.

"Or that I were more predictable at least," he says after a moment. "Even to myself. I know you want to protect me, but I... I don't like that it hurts you. That you have to carry so much and hold things back to do it." He wishes, really, that he were easier to love. It's not that he thinks S would ask for a simpler life or even that he regrets the one they have; he just would rather it not be this hard. He heaves a sigh, drawing S tighter against him for a moment, as much of a hug as he can manage when he's already cradling S close. "Sometimes there isn't anything you can do, Hyunie. I'm me. I'll find some way to be hurt whatever happens."

All he can do, he thinks, is what he promised a moment ago — try to be honest, try to be aware. He can't know in advance what will upset him, not always, but he can warn S as soon as he does know. If he speaks up, if he reminds himself that it will hurt less now than if he lets things get worse, then maybe he can avoid real trouble. But none of that really helps him figure out how to make things easier for S when it comes to knowing what to hold back when. It's constantly changing, and few answers to that stay true for long.
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[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-12-19 07:34 am (UTC)(link)
J nods, a slight fond smile on his lips at S's comment. He's not delusional enough to pretend it doesn't frustrate the hell out of him sometimes, but he's perfectly aware of S's need to take care of things and control his situation. Sometimes it's endearing, sometimes infuriating. Mostly it makes J worry, though he doesn't really have any room to talk.

More pressing is this, letting S get out the things he's thinking and working through. Hand stroking down S's side, he nods again. "Sometimes you don't know until, all at once, you do," he says. It happens to him a lot, and he's not really sure why. Things just get pushed down until they boil over. With this, he thinks, he really should have noticed. He, at least, should have been less of a coward and spoken up long ago. It's one more thing to add to the long, long list of stuff he can't undo. "Now we know. And you... you can talk to me about it. Or not, whatever you prefer. And we can do something about it. Anyway, if I'm going to be upset about something regardless, I'd rather be upset knowing things than not, I think. Mostly."
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[personal profile] beklemmt 2022-12-31 10:37 am (UTC)(link)
It would be soothing to J if he could have concrete answers to give, if he could say definitively what he would like and what to avoid. Not knowing his own mind is disconcerting even on his good days, and when it comes to things like this, where S's wellbeing is at stake too, it can be gutting not to be... well, easier to live with. None of this can be easy, though. He tries to remind himself that he knows that, that it's been the case for a long time, maybe always. Loving him was never going to be a simple thing for a long list of reasons, stretching all the way back to his conception.

That he has some idea of how to reply helps him a bit, though. "You don't have to," he says, soft and certain. "You don't have to know what to say. And you don't have to say it all at once either. Don't put it away. You can say whatever you need to as it comes to you." Toying with S's shirt, he shrugs. "Sometimes it comes out of nowhere, having something you need to say. It's okay. You can tell me when it does. I mean, unless I'm actively in the middle of a nervous breakdown —" He wrinkles up his nose, reconsidering. "More of one than my daily existence is — then you can tell me. Anytime. Anything."
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[personal profile] beklemmt 2023-01-21 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
It's ridiculous that J needs to hear that. He knows it is, when S has told him so many times, when he's taken him up on it so often. Even if he were a more outgoing person with any number of other friends, S is and will always be the only person he can really open up to. No one has ever or will ever know him in the same way. He wouldn't want anyone else to. There's too much he's done worse than wrong for that. S loves him, knowing all of it. He doubts anyone else could even like him if they knew just a fraction of his past.

There's no escaping who he is and what he's done, and still sometimes it gnaws at him, the fear that talking about it is too much, like S isn't perfectly aware of it all. So the reassurance helps, even if he thinks he shouldn't need it.

"When you want to," he adds, kissing S's hair. "When you can. It doesn't have to wait until it's a need." He should take his own advice, really, and remember to talk to S when he thinks of something that should be shared rather than waiting until he's falling apart to broach some of it. The day that happens, though, is probably far off. And yet he's said so much during his time in Darrow that he feels a quiet wave of guilt over it now. "You always listen to me. That can't be easy sometimes. And it... it's not just things I did or felt. It happened to you, too. I did. I don't — I don't want you to have to hold that by yourself. I can hurt a little if it means you don't have to do it alone. You do it for me."

It's never going to be easy to talk about that time, but it's often harder not to talk about it at all. And all this time, he's gone on about how he felt and what he did and how horrible he is for it without giving S nearly enough room to talk about what it did to him. It's selfish, avoiding that because he knows it will be hard to hear.