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chineseinkHAHA SORRY INCEPTION PEOPLE. This is a k-pop fic! It is Donghae's birthday (24 in normal people years, 25 in Korean years ;)) and I didn't expect to write this but it sort of steamrolled me last week, so here you go! Extended notes here.
Happy birthday, Donghae! ♥
Beyond the Door (There's Peace)
Super Junior, Kibum/Donghae, Donghae/OFC, PG-13, 2030 words
It's been twenty years. Donghae's now lived half his life without his father. This is his life through these years.
It's been twenty years. Donghae's now lived half his life without his father.
He brings flowers and lays them across the grave, head bowed.
The ache is familiar in his chest and it's no duller today than it was twenty years ago, but it is tempered by a sense of peace. The kind of peace bought at the price of twenty years and growing up too fast.
Donghae whispers, "Hi, appa." He puts a hand on the soft grassy mound, earth under his fingers as he breathes out a prayer. His mother's already been there; the grave is clean, weeded. Donghwa will come later that day. They each need their moments alone.
It's hot but cloudy, a muggy August. The monsoon season has passed but summer lingers, oppressive. Donghae is sweaty under his collar already, after fifteen minutes.
He gets up and dusts the knees of his slacks.
After this year, Donghae will have spent more years of his life without his father than with.
His mouth quirks a little. No. After this year, Donghae will have kept his father with him in his heart more years of his life than he's had his father by his side.
It's not so different, in the end.
"Goodbye," he says. He'll be back at the new year, to see the grave again. But Donghae's father travels with him. It's never really goodbye.
Donghae looks up at the sky as he walks away, hands in his pockets. Might rain, he thinks.
--
It's raining the day Donghae's daughter is born.
"She's beautiful," he murmurs through his tears, touching her face with gentle fingers. She's red-faced and tiny, staring at him with wide, dark eyes from the arms of her mother.
Sinhyun smiles tiredly at him, propped up in her hospital bed. "Seohae," she says softly. Like he's always wanted.
He cries unashamedly when he holds her, face wet but smiling so much it hurts. There is an ache in his chest, something like awe, something like gratitude. "Seohae." His daughter. His child.
He's a father now.
His mother comes in later to see her first granddaughter, gathering the pink bundle into her arms. Donghae takes a moment to collect himself, stares out at the rain and wonders if his father is looking down on him now. Crying in joy. Rain like a blessing.
"I'll make sure she loves the ocean too," he vows.
--
Distance and time will erode at any relationship, will mute the feelings until they turn faded, bled of passion. No two people are so special as to remain unsusceptible.
But some things distance and time cannot change. For some two people, a few things will remain.
Donghae loves the ocean more than anyone else he knows. Sometimes he wonders if it's the memories themselves, or if it's the association he chose. Sometimes a thing has meaning only because you assign it meaning. Donghae looks at the sea he's named after and remembers nothing blue, nothing wild -- only the warm arms of his father, the smooth baritone voice, singing, the tickling and jokes and encouragement.
Heechul talks until words have no meaning, but he's the one who holds Donghae when he aches for home.
Siwon has never known the ocean like he knows Seoul, city boy that he is, but he holds Donghae's hand and prays with him when Donghae feels adrift in life.
Hyukjae is Donghae's constant companion, who's never been separated from him by time or distance, who keeps Donghae smiling most days than not.
But Kibum is the one who knows how to sit next to Donghae in silence when there are no words to be said.
Donghae honestly cannot remember the last time he saw Kibum when he shows up at his tiny company apartment. It's late and Kibum is dressed for bed, glasses on. He probably has a filming schedule tomorrow, but he holds the door open wordlessly.
"Hi," says Donghae, "sorry it's so late, I just--" He always tries, awkward, with the time and distance that's come between them.
"Hyung," is all Kibum says aloud, because his eyes say the rest. He sits Donghae down on the edge of his futon bed and gets him tea. Then he settles beside him with his script and lets Donghae breathe, a shuddering inhale and exhale that makes his chest ache, until the tightness eases.
Some things change. Donghae doesn't know when Kibum got his hair cut. Kibum probably doesn't know Donghae is planning to visit Italy. He doesn't know that Donghae was on the phone with his mother tonight and that he missed her so much he felt brittle inside, so close to shattering. It's okay, though.
Donghae cups his hands around the tea and sips slowly. It's okay.
Beside him, Kibum flips the page of the script. Glances at Donghae out of the corner of his eye. Smiles a little.
Some things remain.
--
It's been ten years. He's getting married next month.
Donghae remembers falling in love with her smile, her heart, the strength of her beliefs. He pictures her in a wedding dress, pictures her in his bed, brave and beautiful as she looks up at him. His pulse picks up when he thinks about making love to her. Making love. He laughs.
Making her moan. Making her gasp and writhe. Making her call his name, breathless, joyful, his.
Sex, Donghae thinks when he kisses her mouth and neck. Love, marriage, a lifetime.
He doesn't know how long he'll have. Two years, five years, ten. Maybe he'll have a child or two with her. Maybe she'll die first. Maybe he will. Maybe they'll live until they're old enough to see their grandchildren.
He thinks about touching her a lot.
A month before he can make her -- wet, slick, hot, sweet -- his.
--
Donghae likes to make people smile. He likes people, in general, and he likes when people are happy. It's straightforward, really.
He likes to make Kibum smile the most. Maybe because it's because it's hardest won, he thinks. The other members are easy. Chance, Jessica, Minho -- they smile around him all the time, like they can't help themselves. They love him; it's easy.
Donghae doesn't know if Kibum loves him. Maybe that's why each smile feels harder-fought and worth more.
But Kibum loves Donghae. Everyone does. He just doesn't see Donghae as much, so his smiles seem rarer, more precious.
"It's perfectly obvious," explains Kyuhyun. Donghae looks at him and shrugs; he drags Kyuhyun into a photo with him. He arranges them in a silly pose. Kyuhyun laughs like he can't help himself.
Donghae grins because it's another victory. Not as sweet, but a victory nonetheless.
Sometimes he remembers the days when Kibum still performed on stage with them. Remembers how easy it was to coax Kibum into one of those blinding white smiles, the laughs that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He misses that, he thinks. Or maybe it's the feeling he misses: being the center of Kibum's world, being for that moment the light in Kibum's life.
His father was that for him. Donghae has been trying to be that for someone else ever since.
--
He's the fifth of them to get engaged. Shindong was first, then Kangin, Yesung, Sungmin, and Eeteuk. They're married now. Almost all of the others are dating someone now, some publicly and some secretly. Donghae's tired of pretending, though, tired of lying. He's old enough now to know what's important. He's made one dream come true and now it's time for another.
At the dinner where he announces his intentions, Hyukjae toasts him with a cup of juice. Ryeowook promptly starts weeping, fishing tissues from Sungmin's proffered pack.
"When are you going to tell the others?" he asks, sniffling.
Donghae scratches the back of his neck. "Tomorrow, I guess."
When Heechul finds out, he doesn't say anything. He just stares for a long moment until Donghae's shifting on his feet, feeling fifteen again and under the scrutiny of the company's best known sunbae.
"My baby," Heechul says at last, uncharacteristically gently, a tenderness in his eyes, "all grown up."
He's as bony as ever when he pulls Donghae into a hug, sharp angles jutting.
Donghae feels, suddenly, like an adult.
--
It's been five years. Donghae's at a year-end company party and it's the first time he's seen Kibum in person in months. He looks older -- old. He looks all grown up from the kid Donghae once knew, who tagged along after his favorite hyung like an eager puppy.
"Kibum-ah," Donghae says, curling his hands around Kibum's arms and beaming up at him. "Happy new year!"
Kibum smiles at him. Like he can't help it.
Donghae's heart wells up and he laughs. Takes Kibum's drink and sips it. "Talk to me," he exclaims. "I haven't seen you too long." He guides them to more drinks, more conversation, and time blurs. The distance closes.
Donghae finds himself leaning into Kibum, faces too close. Kibum's eyes are endless and dark and his breath is warm against Donghae's skin.
Donghae's sloppy, sideways, skewed. His world is warm and hazy, golden with noisy chatter and background laughter, the dizzy-sweet promises of a new year. He tips forward without thought and kisses Kibum.
His mouth tastes like soju and champagne, like kimchi and rice and dried squid. Donghae registers only heat. Warmth against his mouth. Warmth against his hip, on his shoulder, along the length of his chest.
It's a friendly kiss, like an re-introduction to someone you haven't seen in a while.
Hi, says Donghae's tongue.
Hello, says Kibum's laughing mouth.
Some things change.
Five years ago, Donghae's world shifted beneath his feet.
Tonight, things slide into place.
--
She's different from what he imagined when he daydreamed of the princess he would court as prince. She's better. She's real, for one, with imperfections and flaws and insecurities, with bad hair days and bad moods. She is more than he ever dreamed of and everything he could ever want.
She's in love with Kibum.
It's not quite so bad as that, really, because he's a little bit in love with Kibum too. A little bit differently from the way he loves the other members, his other friends. He loves him in a way that tastes like champagne and warmth, like meeting again after time apart.
Donghae meets her on the set of Kibum's most recent movie. The weeks pass and he forgets how to not think of her all the time. He forgets what it's like not to want to make her smile. They spend a lot of time together, keeping busy and distracted because Kibum loves him too but is dating someone else.
It's not quite so cruel as that, really, because Donghae doesn't mind. It's complicated -- complex -- what they are. They want families. They want futures.
Kibum is still acting. Donghae can see the end of Super Junior.
Sinhyun is not so impractical as to think that waiting for Kibum is the answer, or that love is something that doesn't grow or change.
One day, she says yes when Donghae says, sweet the way he is, "Let me take you to the ocean."
One day in the future, she'll say yes again.
--
Kibum goes to the wedding. Kisses them both on the cheek.
Says, "Congratulations, hyung."
Lets his silence, his smile, say more. Donghae smiles back because he knows, without the reminder, that his father is with him. Always.
--
It's been twenty years. It's a pretty big anniversary.
"Thanks for coming with me, Kibum," he says softly in the car. He knows the filming schedule must be hectic.
Kibum keeps his eyes on the road as he drives them back to Seoul. Back to their lives and the futures they chose. Back to Donghae's wife and daughter.
The road stretches, winding, before them. The clouds hang heavy and the first fat drops splatter onto the windshield.
Kibum puts his hand over Donghae's, the other on the wheel. He sits silently, no words needed.
Donghae smiles and looks out the window, at the sea they're leaving behind.
--
Started: 2010.10.03 | Finished: 2010.10.04 | Notes: Title from Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven. Extended notes here.
Happy birthday, Donghae! ♥
Beyond the Door (There's Peace)
Super Junior, Kibum/Donghae, Donghae/OFC, PG-13, 2030 words
It's been twenty years. Donghae's now lived half his life without his father. This is his life through these years.
It's been twenty years. Donghae's now lived half his life without his father.
He brings flowers and lays them across the grave, head bowed.
The ache is familiar in his chest and it's no duller today than it was twenty years ago, but it is tempered by a sense of peace. The kind of peace bought at the price of twenty years and growing up too fast.
Donghae whispers, "Hi, appa." He puts a hand on the soft grassy mound, earth under his fingers as he breathes out a prayer. His mother's already been there; the grave is clean, weeded. Donghwa will come later that day. They each need their moments alone.
It's hot but cloudy, a muggy August. The monsoon season has passed but summer lingers, oppressive. Donghae is sweaty under his collar already, after fifteen minutes.
He gets up and dusts the knees of his slacks.
After this year, Donghae will have spent more years of his life without his father than with.
His mouth quirks a little. No. After this year, Donghae will have kept his father with him in his heart more years of his life than he's had his father by his side.
It's not so different, in the end.
"Goodbye," he says. He'll be back at the new year, to see the grave again. But Donghae's father travels with him. It's never really goodbye.
Donghae looks up at the sky as he walks away, hands in his pockets. Might rain, he thinks.
It's raining the day Donghae's daughter is born.
"She's beautiful," he murmurs through his tears, touching her face with gentle fingers. She's red-faced and tiny, staring at him with wide, dark eyes from the arms of her mother.
Sinhyun smiles tiredly at him, propped up in her hospital bed. "Seohae," she says softly. Like he's always wanted.
He cries unashamedly when he holds her, face wet but smiling so much it hurts. There is an ache in his chest, something like awe, something like gratitude. "Seohae." His daughter. His child.
He's a father now.
His mother comes in later to see her first granddaughter, gathering the pink bundle into her arms. Donghae takes a moment to collect himself, stares out at the rain and wonders if his father is looking down on him now. Crying in joy. Rain like a blessing.
"I'll make sure she loves the ocean too," he vows.
Distance and time will erode at any relationship, will mute the feelings until they turn faded, bled of passion. No two people are so special as to remain unsusceptible.
But some things distance and time cannot change. For some two people, a few things will remain.
Donghae loves the ocean more than anyone else he knows. Sometimes he wonders if it's the memories themselves, or if it's the association he chose. Sometimes a thing has meaning only because you assign it meaning. Donghae looks at the sea he's named after and remembers nothing blue, nothing wild -- only the warm arms of his father, the smooth baritone voice, singing, the tickling and jokes and encouragement.
Heechul talks until words have no meaning, but he's the one who holds Donghae when he aches for home.
Siwon has never known the ocean like he knows Seoul, city boy that he is, but he holds Donghae's hand and prays with him when Donghae feels adrift in life.
Hyukjae is Donghae's constant companion, who's never been separated from him by time or distance, who keeps Donghae smiling most days than not.
But Kibum is the one who knows how to sit next to Donghae in silence when there are no words to be said.
Donghae honestly cannot remember the last time he saw Kibum when he shows up at his tiny company apartment. It's late and Kibum is dressed for bed, glasses on. He probably has a filming schedule tomorrow, but he holds the door open wordlessly.
"Hi," says Donghae, "sorry it's so late, I just--" He always tries, awkward, with the time and distance that's come between them.
"Hyung," is all Kibum says aloud, because his eyes say the rest. He sits Donghae down on the edge of his futon bed and gets him tea. Then he settles beside him with his script and lets Donghae breathe, a shuddering inhale and exhale that makes his chest ache, until the tightness eases.
Some things change. Donghae doesn't know when Kibum got his hair cut. Kibum probably doesn't know Donghae is planning to visit Italy. He doesn't know that Donghae was on the phone with his mother tonight and that he missed her so much he felt brittle inside, so close to shattering. It's okay, though.
Donghae cups his hands around the tea and sips slowly. It's okay.
Beside him, Kibum flips the page of the script. Glances at Donghae out of the corner of his eye. Smiles a little.
Some things remain.
It's been ten years. He's getting married next month.
Donghae remembers falling in love with her smile, her heart, the strength of her beliefs. He pictures her in a wedding dress, pictures her in his bed, brave and beautiful as she looks up at him. His pulse picks up when he thinks about making love to her. Making love. He laughs.
Making her moan. Making her gasp and writhe. Making her call his name, breathless, joyful, his.
Sex, Donghae thinks when he kisses her mouth and neck. Love, marriage, a lifetime.
He doesn't know how long he'll have. Two years, five years, ten. Maybe he'll have a child or two with her. Maybe she'll die first. Maybe he will. Maybe they'll live until they're old enough to see their grandchildren.
He thinks about touching her a lot.
A month before he can make her -- wet, slick, hot, sweet -- his.
Donghae likes to make people smile. He likes people, in general, and he likes when people are happy. It's straightforward, really.
He likes to make Kibum smile the most. Maybe because it's because it's hardest won, he thinks. The other members are easy. Chance, Jessica, Minho -- they smile around him all the time, like they can't help themselves. They love him; it's easy.
Donghae doesn't know if Kibum loves him. Maybe that's why each smile feels harder-fought and worth more.
But Kibum loves Donghae. Everyone does. He just doesn't see Donghae as much, so his smiles seem rarer, more precious.
"It's perfectly obvious," explains Kyuhyun. Donghae looks at him and shrugs; he drags Kyuhyun into a photo with him. He arranges them in a silly pose. Kyuhyun laughs like he can't help himself.
Donghae grins because it's another victory. Not as sweet, but a victory nonetheless.
Sometimes he remembers the days when Kibum still performed on stage with them. Remembers how easy it was to coax Kibum into one of those blinding white smiles, the laughs that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He misses that, he thinks. Or maybe it's the feeling he misses: being the center of Kibum's world, being for that moment the light in Kibum's life.
His father was that for him. Donghae has been trying to be that for someone else ever since.
He's the fifth of them to get engaged. Shindong was first, then Kangin, Yesung, Sungmin, and Eeteuk. They're married now. Almost all of the others are dating someone now, some publicly and some secretly. Donghae's tired of pretending, though, tired of lying. He's old enough now to know what's important. He's made one dream come true and now it's time for another.
At the dinner where he announces his intentions, Hyukjae toasts him with a cup of juice. Ryeowook promptly starts weeping, fishing tissues from Sungmin's proffered pack.
"When are you going to tell the others?" he asks, sniffling.
Donghae scratches the back of his neck. "Tomorrow, I guess."
When Heechul finds out, he doesn't say anything. He just stares for a long moment until Donghae's shifting on his feet, feeling fifteen again and under the scrutiny of the company's best known sunbae.
"My baby," Heechul says at last, uncharacteristically gently, a tenderness in his eyes, "all grown up."
He's as bony as ever when he pulls Donghae into a hug, sharp angles jutting.
Donghae feels, suddenly, like an adult.
It's been five years. Donghae's at a year-end company party and it's the first time he's seen Kibum in person in months. He looks older -- old. He looks all grown up from the kid Donghae once knew, who tagged along after his favorite hyung like an eager puppy.
"Kibum-ah," Donghae says, curling his hands around Kibum's arms and beaming up at him. "Happy new year!"
Kibum smiles at him. Like he can't help it.
Donghae's heart wells up and he laughs. Takes Kibum's drink and sips it. "Talk to me," he exclaims. "I haven't seen you too long." He guides them to more drinks, more conversation, and time blurs. The distance closes.
Donghae finds himself leaning into Kibum, faces too close. Kibum's eyes are endless and dark and his breath is warm against Donghae's skin.
Donghae's sloppy, sideways, skewed. His world is warm and hazy, golden with noisy chatter and background laughter, the dizzy-sweet promises of a new year. He tips forward without thought and kisses Kibum.
His mouth tastes like soju and champagne, like kimchi and rice and dried squid. Donghae registers only heat. Warmth against his mouth. Warmth against his hip, on his shoulder, along the length of his chest.
It's a friendly kiss, like an re-introduction to someone you haven't seen in a while.
Hi, says Donghae's tongue.
Hello, says Kibum's laughing mouth.
Some things change.
Five years ago, Donghae's world shifted beneath his feet.
Tonight, things slide into place.
She's different from what he imagined when he daydreamed of the princess he would court as prince. She's better. She's real, for one, with imperfections and flaws and insecurities, with bad hair days and bad moods. She is more than he ever dreamed of and everything he could ever want.
She's in love with Kibum.
It's not quite so bad as that, really, because he's a little bit in love with Kibum too. A little bit differently from the way he loves the other members, his other friends. He loves him in a way that tastes like champagne and warmth, like meeting again after time apart.
Donghae meets her on the set of Kibum's most recent movie. The weeks pass and he forgets how to not think of her all the time. He forgets what it's like not to want to make her smile. They spend a lot of time together, keeping busy and distracted because Kibum loves him too but is dating someone else.
It's not quite so cruel as that, really, because Donghae doesn't mind. It's complicated -- complex -- what they are. They want families. They want futures.
Kibum is still acting. Donghae can see the end of Super Junior.
Sinhyun is not so impractical as to think that waiting for Kibum is the answer, or that love is something that doesn't grow or change.
One day, she says yes when Donghae says, sweet the way he is, "Let me take you to the ocean."
One day in the future, she'll say yes again.
Kibum goes to the wedding. Kisses them both on the cheek.
Says, "Congratulations, hyung."
Lets his silence, his smile, say more. Donghae smiles back because he knows, without the reminder, that his father is with him. Always.
It's been twenty years. It's a pretty big anniversary.
"Thanks for coming with me, Kibum," he says softly in the car. He knows the filming schedule must be hectic.
Kibum keeps his eyes on the road as he drives them back to Seoul. Back to their lives and the futures they chose. Back to Donghae's wife and daughter.
The road stretches, winding, before them. The clouds hang heavy and the first fat drops splatter onto the windshield.
Kibum puts his hand over Donghae's, the other on the wheel. He sits silently, no words needed.
Donghae smiles and looks out the window, at the sea they're leaving behind.
--
Started: 2010.10.03 | Finished: 2010.10.04 | Notes: Title from Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven. Extended notes here.
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