Pairing: Jeonghan x Fem!Reader ( Using 'Moon' as a nickname)
Genre: unrequited love, angst, heartbreak.
Word Count: 3.3K
T/W: okay, soooo this is hella dark at times, we're dealing with physical abuse from a parent, mentions of bruising, suicidal hints/dark humor, smoking (depicted as a bad habit, I don't condone smoking, i hate it), breakups, profanities. That's about all, if I missed anything, let me know.
A/N: i know i said works are on hold for this week, but i wrote this in my breaks for the sake of getting it out of my head cUZ OTHERWISE I WON'T BE ABLE TO FOCUS, SORRY. And we're using violet for a theme now cuz @dazedhxze said she associated it with me.
Blue hour dawned with dark clouds obscuring the sky, allowing only the smallest sliver of light to diffuse through. She sat on the mattress lying on the ground, staring out the broken window with her unfocused, red-rimmed eyes, her body shivering in the cold rain that battered against her skin. The plastic covering she’d put up the day before had been blown away by the blasting wind of the night she spent sleepless, and it hung there by a single plaster strip, like the remnants of her own swollen heart. Everything around her reminded her of damage, the flickering light bulb that was hanging on the edge of dying for good, the shattered glass near the window, a good reminder that even if she lived alone, ghosting the almost-empty, ground-floor apartment, her father's fists would still find a way to her home, her face. She'd lost a couple of teeth and some plates that way.
Her landlord had reprimanded her saying he'd call the police the next time any damage was done to the property, and every time she promised there won't be a next time, but the lies were as obvious as her trembling hands.
Her slumped figure blended into the dreary greys of her room, even the blueish bruise on her cheekbone matched the pillowcases. A bitter smile wove itself against her tight cheeks, sending a tinge of pain on the way, and she scoffed in disbelief; is this where she was at now?
Time blended together with the changing weather like kneaded dough, she couldn't tell which hour it was, if it was appropriate to call her best friend over yet or would it be too early for it. She glanced at the opened notebook at her side, her cursive scribbles becoming more illegible by the day. The words she wrote there were ones she couldn't bear to let out to the world, but it was the only way the monster inside her can vomit safely without tearing her into a million shreds. And anyway, she only needed one person to read them, not like there were others, but she knew that her poetry was the bridge she'd used to lead Jeonghan -her one and only friend- down to the fissures of her distraught heart.
Her voice on the phone had it's usually rasp, it's alarming hoarseness, and despite it being almost 7 in the morning, Jeonghan drove down to her apartment in the speed of light. The rational part of his mind assured him there wasn't anything drastically wrong with her, that she was in her usual state of desolation, but his heart fought back ferociously against it, and it wasn't until he sat beside her on the mattress, arms wrapped against her solid, cold body, that he allowed himself to breathe.
It was the inevitable marathon of befriending damaged people; you're bound to live in the anxiety caused by the possibility of them destroying themselves.
Jeonghan's teeth clattered as he took her surroundings in, a mixture of anger, disbelief and empathy clouding his heart. She was neglecting herself again. Her empty gaze followed him as he nagged and scolded, picking up discarded cigarette packs and soda cans that littered the floor and shoving them into a plastic bag. She tried to convince him to just sit back down beside her and look her in the eyes, give her a reason to ground herself back into reality, find safety and let the frantic beating behind her sternum to relax, but seeing as he was so focused on avoiding her gaze, she took a deep inhale of the cigarette she held between her fingers instead.
Jeonghan didn't know how much longer he could go before he exploded; the helplessness had invaded his mind, and there it battled the rage he felt over the injustice, the pain she had to sit there and endure. He didn't miss the bruises on her face, or the crusted blood on her lips, he just couldn't bear to look at them.
"Why's it always messy when I come over?” Jeonghan said, giving her half a smile, trying to lift up the gloomy mood.
"Ask my dad,” she snickered, not in the slightest embarrassed because she knew Jeonghan was used to her being all over the place. “I'm sure he'll have your answer.”
But Jeonghan wasn't having any of her dark humor. "That son of a -”
“Jeonghan,” she warned him with a pointed look, tucking the stray hair strand, the only one that was dyed blonde, behind her ear.
"He literally bloodied you up and you want me to be respectful?” He asked incredulously, pointing at her face. “You should get a restraining order."
In his mind, he felt disgusted with himself; a true friend would offer to beat her abusive father into a pulp, but even though she was larger than Jeonghan, she couldn't fight back, what would happen if he tried?
"He's my father, Jeonghan,” she reasoned, huffing a sigh. “I can't do that to him."
"He seems to forget the fact every time he comes here," Jeonghan muttered angrily, pushing back his black hair. "Your window is broken, it's fucking freezing in here, why are you only in a flannel?”
“I didn't realize how cold it was, my mind just clicked out,” she mumbled back avoiding his piercing gaze, getting up towards the kitchen. “There's leftover pizza, you want some?”
“No thanks, I don't think I've built the appetite yet,” he said, grabbing one of her thicker sweaters from a nearby chest of drawers and following her.
Jeonghan was always gentle with her but he never coddled her, and that's what she liked about him the most; he understood how to comfort her broken being without crossing the line. He never treaded around her as if on eggshells, he was never afraid to give her a piece of his mind on her father's visits, so much so that she sometimes had to remind him of the little part of her that could never think harm on him, no matter how many ribs he'd broken, no matter how long the black bruises faded into green.
She leaned against the round table that stood in the center of the kitchen, lighting another cigarette as soon as the other was smoked up, wet wipe in hand to clean up her lip. With a disapproving look, Jeonghan stepped towards her, flicking the cigarette out of her fingers into the sink, and instead helping her into the wool sweater. “There.”
“Thank you,” she said, gathering up the courage to pull him closer by the pocket of his oversized, beige hoodie, and leaning into his chest.
It was pain in itself to long for him to be so close to her, but at the same time wanting furthest away lest he discovers the thundering in her chest, or the yearning that banged down her guarded doors. He wasn't hers, he could never be, and she would keep it that way.
Jeonghan's arms found themselves around her again, his embrace tightening as she refused to let go. Whenever he hugged her like that, he could feel the loneliness eating away at her, the large hole that craved so much love it could never be satiated, and it tugged at his own heartstrings, his own little sad troll sitting in his mind, telling him he could never be the one to give her the love she wanted, the love she deserved, because he was busy giving it to someone else.
She pulled away, dragging him back by his sleeve to the mattress, landing amongst her pillows with an oof, and thrusted the black leather-bound notebook in his lap.
“New poem?” He asked, masking his nervousness with his signature smirk. “I'm going to take a wild guess and say it's about sunshine and rainbows?”
She rolled her eyes and urged him to read, herself cowering under her blanket. It was always like that when she showed her inner demons to him, the fear of exposure gripped her guts in a twisted knot, mind thinking of ways to downplay the darkness she'd shed in the pages with black ink. She had few means of survival over all, this one was the least gruesome out of them all, and she chose to hang onto to it.
She watched his forehead crease into a frown under his brilliant locks, the urge to run her fingers through them was overwhelming. His eyes flicked from the notebook to her face a couple of times, and she could read the anxiety on his face like the back of a book. Guilt flooded her insides and her hands itched to snatch the poetry back and hide it under her pillows, but it was too late, she'd put her woes on display for him, and now all she had to do was sit and endure it gnawing at her.
“You're going to say you're fine after writing this?" Jeonghan finally croaked, snapping the book shut.
"I'm fine Jeonghan, it's cool, it's everyday life."
“My sobs are soundless, my grief is silent, I'm unseen, unheard, unlovable” he read from a passage. "Bullshit."
"We're doing whatever we can to stay alive, Hannie boy,” she said in her stoic voice, the tremor in her hands failing her as she tried lighting yet another cigarette. “You go and let your girlfriend kiss you till your mind breaks, and I let my mind break me and write poetry to have something to glue myself together with."
"Do you seriously think I'm as out of it as I look?” she scoffed bitterly. “I see you, I see her, I see her on you, I see you on her, it's not the most discreet thing in the world, you know."
"Fine," Jeonghan said. "Get yourself a man, and you'll be all over him too."
"You just say that now,” Jeonghan retorted, placing the book under one of the pillows as if to ward off a bad omen.
"No, Jeonghan,” she shook her head, smiling wistfully. “The man I want is a man I can't have, and if I can't have him then that's it, I don't get to have my high."
He still wasn't convinced, and if anything it confused him even more learning about this new mysterious man she was pining over.
"That cigarette won't get you high either," he said. "Quit, your lungs will thank you for that."
"You're right, they're already working hard pumping unwanted air into my system" she said. "Come-on Jeonghan, it's just some dark humor, you should be used to it by now."
But Jeonghan's expression was deadly serious. "I will never get used to your suicidal jokes because it shouldn't be normal."
"Well, it's my normal,” she said grimly, holding his unwavering gaze, before tapping off the ashes onto one of the bigger glass bits littering the floor.
“It shouldn't be, you don't deserve it,” he whispered, taking her free hand into his.
“That's the hand that I was dealt-”
“And you're not unlovable,” he continued. “I love you.”
It was like a merciless stab to the heart, and she couldn't help but laugh out loud in utter, comical misery. The classic love confession that was more like a declaration of pity than anything.
I love you because it's the only thing keeping you alive, because the alternative is you disintegrating and fading away.
“I really do,” Jeonghan urged. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because you'll never love me in the way I need the most.”
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When Jeonghan knocked on her door closer to midnight the same day, her apartment was tidier and more put together. The broken glass was gone, the window fixed, the blub replaced. She had showered as well -her long, mid-thigh hair was still drying- and changed into the coziest pyjamas she'd owned. The cleanup was refreshing, she felt functional again, even managed to sing a heartbreaking ballad with her poor excuse of a voice, but the moment she saw him at her doorway, hair wet and disheveled, clothes soaked and clinging to his thin frame, eyes shaking with an aching hollowness, tears merging with those of the sky, she felt like she was back in her void, back to square zero.
She grasped his shuddering body against her chest, worry churning her insides. For once they'd switched places and it hurt even more knowing that this is how Jeonghan always felt when she was in her moods.
Still in her arms, she slowly led him to one of the chairs in the kitchen, hand running up and down his back in attempt to warm him or at least cast off the shakes that had taken over him. She'd never seen Jeonghan cry like this, and the reasons running through her mind only showed her the worst-case scenario. Reluctantly, when his breathing stabilized, she'd unclasped his arms from around her, promising she'd be gone for just about a moment to get a towel.
He still hung to her midriff as she dried his face and hair, then draped the towel over his back, securing it at the front with one of the Velcro patches. The vibrations of his voice against her stomach, nevermind the fabric separating them, sent jolts deep down, and she fought hard not to think of that.
“She broke up with me,” Jeonghan said, voice muffled as he refused to let go.
“Han, I can't hear you if you're speaking into my shirt,” she cooed, gently tagging him away. “Talk to me.”
“Mari told me we were over,” he sniffled, digging his palms into his eye sockets, before staring up the ceiling in attempts to calm down. “She said it's because of you.”
“Me? What the fuck did I ever do to her?”
“That's what I asked and apparently I spend too much time with you and it's upsetting her,” Jeonghan said, much more calmer now. “I told her you're my best friend, and sometimes you need me there when you have a hard time and she said some very nasty things, ending them with ‘if you're so worried about that cunt why don't you just go and fuck her instead’”
“Some nerve this bitch has,” she scoffed angrily before standing up and storming towards the front door.
She had needed a release, and that girlfriend of his just gave her a target.
Jeonghan had grabbed her arm and snatched her back before she could make it out the door. “She's not worth it, please, don't get into something you can't get out of. I'm okay.”
“Like hell you are,” she said, letting him lead her back towards the room where the solitary mattress was.
In reality, in addition to her being mad that her friend had his heart broken, and her guilt that it was partially her fault, she was also furious at herself, because clearly this wasn't the time for jealousy to act up, especially not one that dragged out all the hidden feelings she had towards him, ones that brought out her petty side and passive aggression. Tears burned behind her eyes.
"Fuck, you make me want you then leave to be with her and now she hurts you and you come to me?" she said despite herself. "Evil, wretched thing you are."
She knew well enough that there's no one else to go to in that situation, and that she's his safe haven as much as he was hers. She knew that as his best friend she should be there for him, coax him and comfort him, but something about it made her even angrier. Shame crept up her cheeks.
"Moonie-" he called her with her beloved nickname, eyes as wide as saucers, confused by her sudden, venomous outburst and hidden confession.
"But I'm your best friend, and I should be here for you, so let's wipe both our tears and curse that bitch till our tongues burn."
She hoped to steer his mind away from her earlier words and more towards his crumbling relationship. She loathed herself with burning passion, even more than she'd despised Mari, disgusted and repulsed by her actions that only reflected her bitterness and immaturity.
But what do you expect from a girl who's been hurt over and over to the point she knew that she'd never deserve to feel loved?
Jeonghan talked and talked, pushing her words further away into a deeper vault, as the wounds of his heart gushed further. The more he spilled, the more tired he grew, and it didn't take long before he was lying under the covers next to her, safely secured.
As his eyes fluttered shut, she let her tears fall free, stroking his damp hair carefully, afraid her fingers would grow too familiar and then beg her to touch it again like her body begs for the cigarettes she hated so much. What curse was this for her to be addicted to things that ruined her further? Or was this some withdrawal state that ensnared her in its vicious claws and always had her succumb further. Letting go was scary, walking away from pain into healing was like shedding warm clothes in the midst of January. And so she let her father beat her, her mind abuse her, and her treacherous heart lead her down a path of destruction, for wanting a man she could only dream to have.
"Wouldn't it have been better if it was me?” she whispered into Jeonghan's hair, his breaths slowing down as he fell into deep slumber. “I'd love you like you're the most precious diamond, like you're made of stars. I'd shield you with my bare chest against the world, you'd never have to be afraid of having your heart hurt like this. You'd be my darling and mine alone, you'd never have to wonder what it's like to be held by anybody else."
Jeonghan's eyes were tight shut, his face relaxing into serenity. His grasp around her waist tightened and he pulled himself closer into the crook of her neck, letting his soft breathe send goosebumps down her skin. She squeeze her eyes shut as she sobbed harder.
"But I'm not destined for you, because people like me don't get to have a love so pure it could put an end to the misery, no love could put an end to this misery, so I'd just love you from afar, maybe that way I get to keep you long enough before you decide I'm too dark for your white soul, too tainted with pain. I'll let my love be light and keep the heaviness inside chained in a box you'll never see. I'll protect you from me until the end of my time.”
Jeonghan wouldn't know the vows she'd made that night, he wouldn't know how her lip bloodied up again after she bit it to hard in attempts to silence her shaky breaths. He wouldn't know how she held him like there would be no tomorrow, because the moment he wakes up, she'd be back sitting and staring out the window, a burnt up cigarette between her ink-stained fingers, a crooked smile on her face, her poetry notebook freshly penned with grotesque depictions of sorrowful, unrequited love that she'd never let him read.
If she couldn't be his lover, then she'd be a poet, it's pretty much two faces of the same coin.
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©2022 sadkidwarexpert, Eboni.
