lorelei, lorelie
lorelei, lorelie
angst
I’d never sing of love, if it does not exist.



Up until now, I, Kim Kibum—had sworn to myself that I never believe in love.

Little Kibum learned how to lie; how to keep pretending over anything. Twelve years ago; when he was seven and old enough to encode the fundamental fact that life wasn’t all about sunshine and flowers (and Disney, he thought, was the biggest liar ever for making those stupid happily-ever-after fairytales), he began lying.

Home and parents. First victims. Being the only child was probably the last thing he ever asked to God. The overly-high expectations, hard pressures—how Kibum wished to turn into superhuman or just idiotic type one, instead. Not that he wasn’t gifted with brilliant brain (he was even majoring English); but everyone had their limits. And when his hands started trembling, shivering, shaky to the death (I’m exhausted, save me, save me) at least home would promise some comforts. But it never did. It was so hellish that it could torn him away with fake smiley-face plastered on his mom’s, unpleasant low mumbles from his dad, anything.

Where is the love, the love, the love.

So the curtain opened. The stage was ready; and his dialogue would flow (Hi Mom, hello Dad, I am fine). Steady like river, yet heavy like copper.

Friends, school, girls—fuck them all. Teachers sucked. His life was no more than blue sad—cheesy—film. Plain grey. Sure, leaves are green and sometimes red or yellow on fucking frigid winter; sky is blue, though everything flashed on his mind would simply mean black and white. And so, Kibum stopped believing. He got his time wasted by building fences around his tiny-mini heart; guarding it perfectly.

Keep a straight face, a comfortable distance.

But Kim Jonghyun succeeded knocking those down.

Kibum wasn’t really sure how it worked on him. He just entered Minho’s main ballroom (the blasting music, the deafening speakers, everybody danced, sang, laughed) while a pair of eyes were directed on him. There was something—chemistry, name it, and suddenly they both exchanged smiles, giggles, nervous laughter. When Jonghyun fished a way to him, Kibum knew he had already trapped under the spell; he couldn’t climb up, he had lost. He found no way out.

The worse part? He couldn’t practically lie again.

They ended up ignoring the party somewhere out there, sitting on and old, dusky sofa in Minho’s private library. Taking seats, didn’t bother to talk further. What topics. Weather forecast. Earthquake. Tsunamis. Disasters. Corruptors. Traitors. Liars.

Minutes had passed.

You know something? Jonghyun leaned backward, flinging his brown bangs confidently. You are gorgeous.

Kibum stuffed his hands into his pockets, holding back a smile, muttering, Thank you. I know I am.

Oh, could it get any girlier than this.

And you know, I have a girlfriend. She’s so pretty, my Sekyung. Jonghyun added.

Kibum mentally stated, poking out his hands. As expected. Why don’t you go back to her side? She’s looking for you right now, perhaps.

Their fingers brushed slightly.

Jonghyun grabbed Kibum’s hand this time, made him feel overwhelmed and unstable. Kibum stiffened a bit, constantly questioning his mind, asking why why I can’t lie, don’t go, don’t go, stay, stay forever.

The older boy grasped it tighter without putting on a single glance on Kibum. I already have Sekyung, he repeated.

Kibum nodded solemnly. One step closer. Yes you do. Forever and always.

Then there they were, only an inch apart; hand-in-hand, parted with messy silence mixing with some crowds. Alone and prominent.

Call them drunkees, call it insane, whatever—of course Kibum didn’t want to be such backstabber (though he didn’t even have any idea who Sekyung was); Jonghyun wasn’t his from the very start.

Oh really. Somebody out there please tell him why their hands fitted like they were meant to be together or give him a rational explanation about how their heartbeats played on the same harmony, then.

Jonghyun rolled his head and it landed on Kibum’s shoulder. Squeezing their hands (I’ll never let go, what should I do, why it feels so wrong yet simultaneously right, fuck I don’t know, Kibum—I don’t know), his voice squeaked;

I have her, and she’s beautiful. But you too.

La la lie, Kibum. La la la lie.

Yes, she better be. No, she must be much more gorgeous than me. Finally, he made up lying.

As if on cue, Kibum could only follow Jonghyun, their heads met. Closing eyes, they fell into ponds of dreams. And the fingers stayed linking, sticking, leaving invisible fingertips on each palms, drawing clueless words.


I’ve got a tight grip on reality
but I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here
I know you’re leaving in the morning, when you wake up
leave me with some kind of proofs it’s not a dream



God, if this is only a one night stand dream; so be it.



Up until now I had sworn to myself
that I’m content with loneliness


Kibum had promised—when he woke up later, brows furrowed with confusion as he stared down on Jonghyun who was sleeping peacefully beside him (the party had ended; like Kibum cared)—the poker face would back to the place it belonged. What are they? Acquaintances. Who is Kim Jonghyun? Nobody.

(No, Kim Jonghyun is some kind of bastard who holds his heart and hangs it up to the high, high sky—close to the moon and sun and stars until Kibum can’t pick it back.)

And that was how Kibum’s world worked. He examined the other’s features expertly, carefully; hair, eyes, chapped lips, arms and short legs, before giving off one last bitter smile, fixed Jonghyun’s jacket and went on.

Kibum never looked back. Because the mask was now on, while the lies kept coming and gone.


Because none of it was ever worth the risk
But you are the only exception,
You are the only exception


It was the first time he knew what love was. It was the first time he recognized that Jonghyun’s hair was auburn, not brown, how his puppy eyes dimmed and sparkling and Kibum found sea of stars and it was total dark, his skin was a bit tan, and all hues were there. But it was also the last time he let his guard shattered astronomically in front of somebody else.

And Kibum didn’t lie about that.

Labels: fanfiction

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