virginangelic | Fic: End of Heechulism

Title: End of Heechulism
Rating: PG-13
Author:

virginangelic
Genre: Angst
Pairing/s: Heechul-centric. Shihanchul (for lack of a better term), Kangteuk, Kyumin
Summary: Heechul knows his time is almost up.
Warnings: Some mentions of slash.
Read and review please!

The End of Heechulism

It is 10:00 am.

Heechul knows his time is almost up.

He can feel his chest constricting - it's getting harder to breathe. He covers his mouth as he lets loose the cough he's been trying to quell. He's thankful for once that he's wearing loose clothing - it hides the now familiar tremors of his fragile body. He knows without looking that he has coughed up blood once again. He is familiar with the sight of blood in his cupped hands but fear and horror still grips his heart in an iron vice.

His chest is hurting, burning like a thousand suns, and he wonders if he can make it through today. He grabs a couple plies of tissue papers, wiping all traces away.

But his hands remain stained.

And so Heechul prays to a God he doesn't believe in. He doesn't know if it helps but he prays hard anyways. He prays like never before.

Please just let me be able to see them get married today.

Please just give me the strength to carry on with this pretence.

He stands up gingerly but his body is wraught with pain.

He winces but it does not deter him. He merely grits his teeth, grasping onto any available support as he makes his way.

He manages to change into his chosen outfit as best man. It is his best suit - meant for his funeral, but he figures it's better to show it off now.

Stepping up to face the mirrors, he lets loose a hollow laughter.

How fitting, he thinks, as he twirls himself around, the present merely some white noise in the background.

Applying gratuitous amount of foundation and blusher, he soon appears as though he's aglow like three years ago.

He practises his smiles and smirks even if it hurts. He knows this is his swan song - his last time to outshine - it has to be spectacular - it has to be perfect. He thinks that it is better this way - that he isn't the one getting married.

The part of him that wonders about the ‘what ifs’ is silent, as though it too knows that the end is drawing near - it would be futile to contemplate. A larger part of him is thankful that he had rejected Shiwon, spurned Hankyung and drawn the two together – they were both perfect beings, just not meant for him, but for each other. He smiles, reminiscing about their first date. He knows it is his destiny to die alone. But he is thankful that he has met them and the rest of his boys.

Jungsu, the motherly one (who really was just a devious bully who made the boys clean up the dorm instead of doing it himself)

Youngwoon, the boisterous loud idiot he hung out with (And who happened to be a bloody hypocrite since he was bedding Jungsu and yet frowned upon the other boys’ PDAs with each other.)

JoongOon, the weird entomologist student who couldn’t hold his alcohol at all (Read: DORK)

Hangeng, the Chinese cook who had initially arrived on the basis of becoming a dancer (As if he could make it without Heechul’s mentorship – hah. It took countless Korean lessons before the Chinese man became a Korean.)

Sungmin, the cute adorable living contradiction with his black belt in tae kwon do (Heechul wonders when Pinky would just come out of the damn mothball infested closet already – it was too obvious, especially with his huge crush on a certain snarky bitch.)

Hyukjae, the stinky fella who could talk about everything under the sun (Seriously, he still wonders how anyone could take 3 seconds showers.)

Donghae, the boy who hid behind smiles with his belief in aliens to cling to. (Heechul knows behind the Peter Pan façade laid a broken man – which was why he treated the other boy better than the rest.)

Donghee, the rotund guy who loved food with a passion (And a heart breaker with the ladies, if he bothered to look around.)

Siwon, the ‘perfect’ boy with dimpled smiles and killer abs (along with his irritating evangelism.)

Ryeowook, the living Peter Pan whose voice was nothing he had heard before (Yet so insecure to everyone, he wondered if the boy was actually fishing for compliments.)

Kibum, the boy who spoke through his silence (And was a fellow Starcraft devotee with an excellent battle strategy.)

Kyuhyun, the boy who really grew up too fast and only starting to act his age again (Heechul wasn’t too sure if he liked the new and improved since he was too snarky for his own good.)

He smiles, reminiscing for a fair bit before a knock on the door pulls him back to reality - they were leaving soon for the church.

He wants to yell out that he's coming (stupid, unmanageable hair refusing to curl the right way) but he chokes on the words instead. His head is spinning - he ignores the accompanying throbbing dull ache. Ignore the pain - you'll live, he tries to console himself. But even he recognizes the hollow words - the doctors say it was a miracle that he had even lived this long. He pops the handful of pills and swallows them down - if only they were candies, he thinks. His throat burns, despite downing the accompanying glass of water.

He coughs and regurgitates some of the pills, now coated in a mixture of saliva and blood. He drops the pills into the half empty glass of water and wipes his hands. He feels a burning sensation in his eyes and takes a glance to make sure they were not bloodshot red. He yearns for a shot of soju, or wine, or beer - anything hard really - but he knows it'll only make the problem worse.

He proceeds to moisten his eyes, in a bid to lessen the pain. He smirks to himself – he’s experienced worse pain that this and yet here he was, tearing.

Heechul knows, deep down, that today is his last - he has to be strong, if not stronger than before. Only three hours left and then he can finally go to sleep for the last time - if he has three hours - he prays he does. His bones aches and he wishes he has more time.

Maybe…maybe I’ll just take a short…

No. I have to do this. I promised them, no matter what.

He struggles to walk upright, resisting the urge to just slouch and ease the ache pressing on his shoulders. He knows he has to keep up appearances. It would do no good if anyone other than his physician to know his true condition. Sometimes...sometimes, he wishes that he has told someone, anyone. His parents had long since forsaken him for his deviant ways (their last words still ringing in his ears), his sister too caught up with work. The other boys, especially Jungsu, he knows has an inkling that something was wrong. But he couldn't, he wouldn't tell them anything. He dismisses them nonchalantly, pretending to be insulted that they wanted him to die.

It would just be an unnecessary burden; he never did like troubling anyone with his problems - it went against his ideals, his fiercely independent spirit, and his very nature. He doesn't want nobody's sympathy. He knows it'll only make the parting much harder to bear.

But a part of him wants to tell them – he cries himself to sleep, remembering the anxious fleeting looks on faces - the ones they try to hide from him. He wonders if he should write an open letter of apology or if it should just be his eulogy. He glances at the clock. It is 11.30am – there isn’t any time left to entertain such silly notions, he tells himself before brushing off non-existent lint off his suit for the last time.

Everything was in place - or rather almost everything that he could do.

In the distance, the church bells ring and Heechul prepares to make his way to the ceremony.

He never does.

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Fic: End of Heechulism

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