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English
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between you & me
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Published:
2016-10-19
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4,658
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1/1
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these repeating recovering days have yet to exist

Summary:

Jihoon is caught in a web, never to be able to escape. He didn’t bother trying to escape anyway.

Notes:

prompt: onirataxia
The following story includes triggering content. The following content includes:
• major deaths
• suicide attempt
• psychological disorder/mental illness, hallucinations (although illness not identified)
Please reconsider reading if any of these trigger you or put you off.

Work Text:

Jihoon is caught in a web, never to be able to escape. He didn’t bother trying to escape anyway.

He should have known from the moment he saw him that something was wrong.

Jihoon doesn’t exactly remember when it started – the lines, the sounds.

It’s like a glitch, as Jihoon describes it. He could be going about his day, doing as he wishes; going about his normal routine. His days are quite simple: wake up, get ready for morning classes, quickly catch his bus and train before it ditches him, arrive at his university in hopes he isn’t late for class, sit through classes, work his afternoon shift at the old tea store that barely gets any customers, and then he’s back home.

But then it happens – the lines, the sounds. It happens at any time. The scene in front of him will turn still; solid. And then he will see white lines on top of the scene. And then suddenly, the white lines will go spastic and his vision glitches. He then hears a deafening noise that gets gradually louder and louder – the kind of noise that would be heard when adjusting a hearing aid. He hates it; it drives him insane, and he knows it’s because of him.

Choi Seungcheol; 22 years old, third year of university, business major.

It’s quite cliché, it almost makes Jihoon want to throw up: get invited to a party on the weekend by a friend, get dragged out of the apartment by his friend to the party, stand alone as he gets ditched by his friend the moment he walks in, have a seemingly tall and handsome man of his dreams offer him a drink, exchange numbers, and then start texting each other out of curiosity, and then meet up regularly. But then there’s another step: falling. And falling is what Jihoon does; Seungcheol doesn’t.

How does he know this? He knows because the lines told him.

Whenever Jihoon is with Seungcheol, whether they’re having lunch together at the café nearby campus, exchanging texts about their day, walking to the station together, hanging out at each other’s apartments, or quiet late night calls, the lines will appear, and everything will be reset.

It doesn’t happen all the time, Jihoon realises. It’s practically impossible to predict. Just like yesterday, when they went out for coffee together. When Seungcheol gave Jihoon his coffee, their fingers merely brushed, and Jihoon couldn’t help but want more. But then it happens. The image of Seungcheol in front of him turns still, lines cross over the image and start to move rapidly. The screeching noises increase, getting louder and louder; practically deafening him, and the next thing he knows, he’s in his bed. He guessed he was just deprived of coffee – if only that was the case.

Here he is today, visiting his doctor again. He knows it’s useless. It’s unexplainable, in which only increases the amount of prescriptions of medication he’s given. More of this, more of that – he’s lost count on how many bottles of pills he’s received.

He sighs as he exits the building, awaiting his bus. Jihoon looks up to the sky – the sky is as blue as his feelings, and the white clouds remind him of the white lines. He looks down. Jihoon loathes the white lines.

 

After arriving at the apartment complex he punches in the code for the glass doors to open and welcome him inside. Walking through the lobby, he steps in front of the elevator, clicking the ‘up’ button. He looks at the glowing numbers, indicating the arrival of the lift.

5

4

3

2

1

G

The enormous doors in front of him slide open for him to step into the secluded small space. He wishes he could hide in a small space forever. Jihoon looks up, watching the glowing numbers again.

G

1

2

3

4

5

The elevator doors glide open, and the first thing he sees within the narrow hallway is a certain male, sitting cross legged in front of his apartment door.

The small male sees the certain male whip his head towards his direction, pearly white teeth on display as he waves his hand above his head frantically. Jihoon wishes he could have the elevator doors close on him.

“Jihoonie! You’re here!”

Jihoon forcefully tugs his lips upwards as he walks to his apartment door.

“Of course I’m here, Seungcheol. This is where I live”

Seungcheol chuckles a little as he stands up. Jihoon notices him limping slightly, probably from the numbness in his legs from sitting for so long.

“What I meant was – where did you go? You barely walk out in the sunlight unless it’s for school or work”

Jihoon stiffens a little, though keeping a cool front. He couldn’t let him know that he had visited a doctor, and regularly at that.

“Went out for coffee and fresh air. Do you want me to die from drowning in all the assignments I’ve received inside of my apartment?”

This time Seungcheol throws his head back, his laugh bouncing off the walls of the hallway.

“I don’t – I don’t think I want to find my friend’s dead body in the middle of his apartment.”

The tall male steps out of the door way for Jihoon to fish out his keys from his pocket. Jihoon jams his key into the keyhole until he hears a click of the doorknob. Turning the key, he opens the door.

“The real question is, what are you doing here?” Jihoon questions as he enters his small apartment.

"Um..? Have you forgotten again? It's Friday? It's our movie night!" Seungcheol exclaims. "I even brought food!" he cries, holding up and shoving a filled plastic bag in Jihoon's face.

Of course. How could he have forgotten?

Seungcheol had claimed that they should have a weekly movie night to push and forget all the pain and pressure of endless assignments, and to just relax.

The taller male immediately flops down on Jihoon's rustic leather couch after taking off his shoes. Jihoon sighs as he lines up both of their shoes at the door way.

Jihoon walks over to his couch, claiming a sit beside his friend as Seungcheol rummages through the plastic bag. The tall male then pulls out two DVD cases.

"Okay, you feeling romantic, or… ‘actiony’? Is that even a word? Well…it is now…"

Jihoon, for once, turns his lips up into a genuine smile. "An action movie would be nice; I can pretend the antagonists are my school assignments, so that i can have the satisfaction and delusion of my assignments dying and never coming back"

Seungcheol clutches his stomach, letting a boisterous laugh slip out his lips before he stands up and walks to the front of the living towards Jihoon's DVD player.

"Alright Jihoonie, anything for you"

Anything for me? You'd give anything but yourself. Jihoon's lips stay pursed.

The screen in front of Jihoon flickers, and Seungcheol's settles himself down next to him on the couch again, fingers actively pressing the buttons on the remote control.

It's fairly quiet, only hearing the ticks of the analogue clock displayed on Jihoon's living room wall.

Tick, tick, tick, tick - a constant loop, something Jihoon wants to escape.

Once the film begins, Seungcheol takes out a family packet of barbeque chips from the plastic bag beside him. The tall male casually drapes his arm over Jihoon’s shoulder without a second thought, whilst Jihoon’s thoughts begin to multiply.

Jihoon thinks of his scent, his broad shoulders, and his biceps in fine shape from all of his working out. He thinks of the warmth radiating from Seungcheol, and how close they are. But then he shuts his eyes, wishing and hoping they don’t take him away from this moment. It’s rare, but nothing has stopped this moment so far. He snuggles closer to Seungcheol’s side, basking in the moment as much as he can. Jihoon thinks that he could stay like that with him forever and ever. He wonders if the white lines will take him away – they don’t.

 


 

 

The small male yawns for the umpteenth time that day. The scattering of paper, the anxious tapping of feet and pens from other students, the dull blabbering of his professor – they all make him profusely tired. The multiple cans of caffeinated drinks hadn’t seemed to be of much help either. It’s not until he feels a vibration from his pocket. Jihoon quietly slips the device out from his pocket.

4:32PM Tuesday, October 6

New Notification

Seungcheol: Are you working hard? ヽ/ ❀o ل ͜ o\

Seungcheol: Jihoonie, fighting! ⤴ ε=ε=( ง ˃̶͈̀ ᗨ˂̶͈́) ۶

Jihoon giggles, attracting stares and glares from bodies around him. The smaller male immediately and shyly ducks his head down from the attention. He places the phone down to his lap, smiling to himself.

As if on cue, the professor announces the end of the lecture. Students immediately stretch, yawn and scramble to pack up their items, eager to escape the room. The small male gathers his belongings into his backpack, exiting the large room.

A voice calls out to him as he exits through the door. He looks to his left, his tall friend waving at him sporadically.

“How was class?”

Jihoon manages to smile.

“It was fine. You didn’t have to wait for me, you know”

“I know, but I wanted to. I know how tired you always are, so I bought lunch!”

Stop, stop, stop – I’m already falling so hard to the point I’ve found myself caught in a web of lies.

Jihoon ignores the feeling of his cheeks heating up, taking the paper bag from Seungcheol’s hand. They walk out of the old building, finding themselves on one of the campus’s benches.

Opening up the paper bag, he finds a sandwich inside. Seungcheol is already munching away on his lunch. It makes Jihoon happy somehow. The way the taller is so eager for food, just like a puppy. Jihoon smiles as he takes small bites out of the sandwich.

Jihoon looks up from his sandwich to Seungcheol again, chuckling at the sight.

“You’re a grown ass man but you eat like a baby”

Seungcheol stops chewing, raising is eyebrow questionably. The smaller reaches his hand up to the taller male’s face. A crumb stuck at the corner of Seungcheol’s upper lip, he attempts to wipe it away.

As soon as he feels the tip of his index finger tingle against Seungcheol’s soft skin, everything is still. White lines appear before him as the image of his fingertip on the taller’s skin glitches. He hears the sound again, getting louder and louder, it could burst his ear drums. The white lines multiply more and more until he can see nothing but white. 

 

 

 

Jihoon wakes up in cold sweat in his cold bed. He turns his head to face his digital alarm clock – TUES |OCT 06| 3:04AM. He sighs.

 


 

 

“Jihoonie! I’m bored!”

Jihoon sighs tiresomely, but trying to contain his smile. The sun is on its way to sleep, but Jihoon remains the library, along with Seungcheol sitting across from him.

“I never said you had to come? Why are you even here if you don’t even know how to open a book?”

“I’m here ‘cause I don’t want to leave you alone”

The scratching of his pencil stops. He staples the ends of his lips upwards. He knows he can’t fall when Seungcheol doesn’t mean it the way Jihoon is thinking, but he can’t help it.

“Thanks, Seungcheol. You’re the best friend I could ever have”

Friend. If only Jihoon could gouge his own eyes out with the pencil he’s holding.

“No problem, Jihoonie! You know you can rely on me anytime!” Seungcheol gives him his angelic smile, causing Jihoon’s heart to race.

He continues to write as Seungcheol proceeds with making paper planes out of Jihoon’s scrap paper. The silence consumes the library for a while, but neither of them seem to mind.

The scratches of his pencil increased as his heart beat got louder. The atmosphere is warm, the silence is comforting. Seungcheol throws his seventh paper airplane across the library. The smaller hums, tapping his foot in rhythm. The bored male makes his eighth airplane.

“Write everything down about us on a love letter

And throw it into the empty sky”

“Seungcheol?”

“Yeah?”

“I lo-“

Looking up from his paper, his eyes widen.

No, no, no, no, no, please no.

The white lines cross over his vision, covering the image of Seungcheol folding a paper plane. The image glitches and the white lines go crazy. A deafening screech is all he can hear. Jihoon cringes at the horrific noise. He shuts his eyes, but it’s useless – the white lines take over his view.

 

 

 

Jihoon gasps, opening his eyes. He sits up in his cold, lonely bed. He cries.

 


 

 

“Jihoonie! I’d like you to meet someone!”

The small male looks up from his coffee see Seungcheol standing above him with some else by his side.

Jihoon is sitting at the usual table at their local café; the café that he and Seungcheol would always go to. It was the café where they first hung out, where they first genuinely got to know each other, the first place Jihoon fell in love.

Jihoon introduces himself to the person beside Seungcheol, shaking their hand. Seungcheol ushers them to sit down across from Jihoon, sitting next to him.

Seungcheol holds her hand; it’s not his hand that Seungcheol’s holding. He winces, but quickly tugs the ends of his lips upwards.

“So I know that this is a little out of the blue, but I have something to tell you...we’re dating! And we have been for three months now! I meant to mention her earlier; it just never came up though. Sorry for such a late announcement – you don’t mind though, right?” Seungcheol chuckles, tightening his hand around hers’. Jihoon tries not to break down then and there.

“Oh! How wonderful!”

How terrible.

“You guys look great together”

You guys shouldn’t be together.

“Seungcheol’s a bit of a baby, so I hope you take care of him!”

I hope you let go of him.

Seungcheol laughs and she giggles. Jihoon mourns on the inside – he can only chuckle along with them. Seungcheol continues to ramble on about how they met, and how wonderful she is. Jihoon can only pin the ends of his lips up, mentally nailing his lips in place.

He can only try to erase the image now drawn on the back of his eyelids. He can only try to pretend that his heart doesn’t want to be ripped from his chest. He can only wish the white lines would take him away – they don’t.

 


 

 

Constantly tapping his pen on the wooden table, he starts to get irritated. In the quiet, close-to-empty library, Jihoon sits at one of the study tables near the window. He sighs in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. Jihoon drops his pen on the table, leaning on his elbow; face in the palm of his hand. Looking up from his incomplete assignment, he sees a familiar figure in front of him at the next table, the figures back turned towards him.

The figure turns, reaching to the bag on the chair next to them. Catching the side profile of their face, Jihoon realises that it’s Seungcheol. Jihoon stares. It was strange – Seungcheol barely even knows how to study. Jihoon decides to leave him alone, and to congratulate him later on finally being able to be the active student he was supposed to be.

Jihoon smiles. He guessed that things would have to change eventually. He picks up his pen, and continues his writing task. Jihoon figured if Seungcheol was finally working hard, he would have to work hard too.

 


 

 

“I didn’t know you were finally into books”

“What? I’m…not?”

“What?”

Jihoon and Seungcheol are at the usual café again.

Jihoon puts down his cup of mocha. “I saw you at the library two days ago. You looked really invested in your work so I left you alone”

Seungcheol quirks up his eyebrow whilst dragging a sip from his macchiato. Putting down his cup, he chuckles a little. “You know that I don’t bother going to the library unless I decide to tag along with you. Are you sure it was me?”

Jihoon’s taken aback. He has sworn it was him. His eyes, his nose, his mouth, his ears, his earrings and ear piercings, his jawline – he was positive all those features he saw two days ago belonged to Seungcheol.

“Uh, maybe you got the wrong person?” Seungcheol laughs. “You should know me by now! I always do my assignments last minute and wing all of my exams”

Jihoon chuckles wearily. “Yeah…I guess I saw wrong…”

 


 

 

More of this, more of that – he wonders if the man in white will ever get as tired as he is on how many time’s he given him the same words over and over.

The man in the white coat shakes his head whilst handing Jihoon a small bottle with questionable contents inside. He shakes the bottle like the man in white shaking his head. The bottle is just like the other bottle he had gotten a fortnight ago, except this time it’s a different colour, and the pills inside are of different size.

The man in the white coat gives him a piece of paper filled with scribbles. Jihoon sighs.

Exiting the stark, white building, he huffs. He shoves the bottle into his coat pocket. The small male looks up. The sky is a canvas to only a few painted clouds, just like how his heart is painted in pain.

 


 

 

The small male walks out of the gates of the campus, stretching his arms above his head. He inhales deeply, and drags out his breath. Jihoon can only hope his endless studying had saved his grades. He lowers his arms, twisting his wrist. The exam had taken a toll on his energy.

He strolls down the run down pathway, observing his steps as he walks by the old cement pulled from the ground. It’s the same as always – the passing cars, the dancing leaves on trees, the glaring sun. He supposes some things will change eventually.

Eventually.

He walks towards the local café to celebrate his finishing of exams with as many cups of caffeine that he can take without fainting.

Closer and closer – he stops.

There, through the crystal clear window pane, he sees the one he longed for with the one he wished would disappear. Seungcheol’s smile was being shared with her. Jihoon grimaces. He quickly jogs past the store in hopes that he doesn’t catch Seungcheol’s attention – he didn’t need to see Jihoon’s expression of disgust.

The small male hurries down the broken pathway, bumping into by-passers.

Faster, faster, faster

He doesn’t know who’s telling him, but it takes his legs to take him away as fast as he can. Maybe the white lines are trying to take him back again – he can only wish they would.

Faster, faster, faste-

“Oww fuuckk- Jihoonie?”

Jihoon clutches his own head, seated on the ground. He looks up.

“S-Seungcheol?”

“Are you okay? Why were you running so fast? Is your head made of iron or something? My chest hurts from where you bumped into me”, Seungcheol laughs.

Jihoon flinches.

There Seungcheol was, in front of him whilst clutching onto multiple grocery bags.

What?

“Wh-what- why are you here?” Jihoon questions shakily.

“W-what? What do you mean? I just went to get groceries…” Seungcheol replies, holding up the plastic bags for emphasis. “I-is everything okay, Jihoon? Are you alright?”

Seungcheol holds out his hand to help him up. Jihoon ignores the help, standing up hastily on his own. “I thought you were with your girlfriend…”

“What?”

“I swear I saw you at the café with your girlfriend just now!”

Seungcheol frowns. “Uh…you…must have seen wrong? In fact, my girlfriend’s out of town to visit her family at the moment”

Jihoon is bewildered.

“Jihoon? Jihoonie? Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. I-I need to go…somewhere…”

He pushes past the taller, sprinting down the rundown pathway.

Faster, faster, faster

Jihoon doesn’t know where he’s going.

Soon he ends up at the bus stop, keeling over as he pants roughly.

He could have sworn he had seen Seungcheol at the café – no, he knew it was Seungcheol at the café before. His smile, his hair, his body figure – Jihoon knew the features he saw beforehand had all belonged to Seungcheol.

Maybe it was okay. At least it was okay that the smile that Seungcheol had “shared” wasn’t really shared after all. And since it maybe wasn’t really him, he could erase the horrid image of Seungcheol smiling at someone else other than him. Jihoon was happy.

 


 

 

He doesn’t remember when it started.

Jihoon starts to see Seungcheol more frequently; too frequently in fact.

He walks along a pathway, passing by stores. Jihoon sees Seungcheol through the glass of the local café. He seems fixated on something. Jihoon leaves him alone. He continues down the path. He sees Seungcheol at the local bookstore through the window. Strange. Jihoon continues down his path. He sees him at the convenience store. Even stranger. He stops. Jihoon walks even further. He's walking, he's running, he's sitting on the bench nearby, he's talking to the local grocer; Seungcheol is everywhere. Jihoon runs. The small male keeps running farther and farther away. He wonders if the white lines are mocking him.

 

 

 

He wakes up. The white lines seem to have decided to bring him back. The small male shivers. He sits up in his bed. Jihoon eyes the small, glass cup sitting on his window sill. It’s empty, collecting dust from time passing by. Jihoon wonders when he had left it there in the first place. It’s like a reflection of himself; sad, lonely and pathetic. Sighing, he lifts himself out of bed. Tick, tick, tick, tick goes the clock – it’s a constant loop he can never escape.

 


 

 

Walking down the street, he sees him again. Seungcheol's walking alone. With heavy eyelids, Jihoon continues to walk whilst observing the taller male. Jihoon watches from afar. Closer and closer, he wonders if he should approach him. Seungcheol stops at the side of the road, looking left and right. Seungcheol steps out.    

Crash.

He screams.

 


 

His apartment building doors slide open, welcoming him inside from the cold weather outside. He steps in. Tap, tap, tap – somehow it sounds familiar to him. He continues to walk, following the sound of the familiar footsteps. He looks left to where the stairs are. There, he sees Seungcheol. Seungcheol steadily makes his way upstairs. Jihoon follows and makes his way to the stairs. Tap, tap ta- Jihoon watches the taller man’s body fall backwards.

He screams.

 


 

 

Jihoon doesn’t particularly enjoy crowded spaces. He tries to weave through the crowd without bumping into anyone, although it’s inevitable with so many people rushing to their platforms. Business men, business women, university students, high school students, mothers and their children – mornings are always busy, and they’re all in a rush like Jihoon is.

The small male quickly walks to his platform. He hears the announcer from the speaker announce his train, making him walk through the dense crowd at a faster pace. Jihoon can only hope he hasn’t missed his train yet.

Looking above, he finds his platform number. Cursing his own height, he jumps up and down to look above the crowd to see the arrival of the train. He sees the train in the distance. Jihoon ducks down, pushing and weaving through the crowd to be closer to the front.  As he closer he gets to the front, the closer the train gets. He sees Seungcheol at the front – earphones plugged in whilst being invested into his phone screen.

There’s a sudden push of the crowd, and Seungcheol gets pushed forward. The tall male loses his balance.

He screams.

 


 

 

The wind caresses his face. Jihoon shivers, hugging his own body to gain back his warmth. The sky is dark, sprinkled over with a few shining stars. Another blow of wind passes over, making him clutch onto the plastic bag of groceries tighter. His small, fragile body shakes.

The small male shoves the hand not occupied with grocery bags into his pocket, other hand holding onto the plastic bags. He continues to take small steps. Jihoon turns a corner into a narrow alleyway. He squints his eyes. He continues to walk – closer and closer, he can see two dark figures at the end of the alleyway.

Closer and closer – Jihoon is too late.

A small, jagged metal is pierced through the Seungcheol’s abdomen. The other figure runs away, disappearing into the dark while Seungcheol clutches onto his abdomen. Jihoon watches the thick, crimson liquid leak through Seungcheol’s slender fingers.

He screams.

 


 

 

Walking down the broken pathway, he checks his phone. He’s just in time to have lunch at their usual café, his friend having messaged him that he was waiting for Jihoon. The small male scrolls through his contacts, clicking on his friend’s name. Jihoon holds the device to his ear, hearing it ring once, then twice, then thrice.

Strange. Seungcheol always picked up on the third ring.

When he hears the automated voice, he hangs up the phone, and calls again. Jihoon lets the phone ring once, then twice, then thrice. The phone continues to ring, and the usual deep voice isn’t heard at the other end of the call. Jihoon slips the phone back into his pocket.

Jihoon walks further down the path. He looks up. The further he walks, the greyer the sky gets. It’s loud; everyone is loud. He hears deafening screeches and crying. He walks more and more. Jihoon can smell a strong ashy scent. It’s bright; the further he walks, the brighter and hotter it gets.

He sees more and more people just standing there, outside the café. Jihoon stops. He stiffens. The small male stands there; paralysed. It’s bright, it’s hot, it burns – he watches the building fall apart like his heart. He shakily reaches for his phone again, unsteadily pressing Seungcheol’s contact number. He lets the phone ring; it rings once, then twice, then thrice.

 He sobs.

 


 

 

Jihoon sits up comfortably in his warm bed. He slowly scans his own room. He looks at the lonely glass cup sitting on his window sill. Jihoon thinks that he could have at least washed it and put it away like he had always told himself to do, but then he thinks it wouldn’t matter anyway.

He shakily twists the cap of the small transparent bottle. He looks down, then up at the room one last time. Jihoon looks down again and sighs. He tips his head back, and brings the bottle up to his mouth.

Slowly, like a small waterfall, the small red and white solid contents inside the bottle pour into his mouth. Jihoon brings his hand down, swallowing hard on the pills. Jihoon jerkily lets go of the bottle, and his mind goes hazy.

As if the room was caving in on him, he feels as though the world around him was crashing down. With his last breath he thinks about the stack of overdue papers on his desk. He thinks about his leftovers from last night still sitting cold in his fridge. He thinks about him – his wide eyes, his soft hair, his mesmerising smile, his strong biceps and broad shoulders. He thinks about his boisterous laugh and his addictive voice. He thinks about the empty glass he left on the window sill, apologising that the cup would now be lonelier than it was before.

Jihoon wonders if the white lines would take him back –

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

they don’t.