Khiphop Oneshots

Keem Hyoeun

It was now not an uncommon occurrence to hear you fall down the stairs or even completely collapse after standing up too quickly. Even so, the thud of your body still resounded so loudly in Hyoeun's ears and only got louder when he layed down to sleep the nights after.

Nobody could figure out a way in which to intervene the destructive habits you were slowly falling into.

They could tell from the large bags under your eyes, the slightly skinnier wrist you revealed when playing the piano, and the glazed-over eyes during meals.

Hyoeun hated it, he could see the rest watch you closely for when you snap, ready to feast like disgusting vultures. He can see them closely on your heels waiting for you to trip. He doesn't want anybody else to get closer to you, you must be untouchable, reserved only for him. He hates himself for being so weak, he feels as if he has failed.

Especially because his heart jumped out of his throat when he saw the floating mass of your hair above the rest of the body in the pool.

He threw himself into the biting water, his body momentarily twitching due to the icy shock, and ripped through the complacent water and gripped on to your t-shirt, pulling the nape of your neck backward to elevate your face out of the water.

He wraps his arms around your waist. Cold. He notices the blue lips underneath him as he pulls you with him to the edge of the pool.

How long had you been like there?

Are you still breathing?

Are you unconscious?

Did you hit your head?

The panic struck through his chest as he grabbed onto the wall of the pool, the familiar sand that started filling his chest, the saliva building in the back of his throat, and the crushing weight on his shoulders sinking him further into the water.

He couldn't, he couldn't let you die but he was suffocating himself. He looked down at you against his chest, slack and motionless, he hated it, it made him want to throw up. He couldn't bear watching your body give up on itself, watching it sink further in the unseeable depth of the pool. The changing season breeze whistled over the top of his head, the tip of his fingers were losing feeling and his mouth was chattering.

He was desperate, so utterly desperate. His grasp loosened, his body weakened, he was unable to stop your skin slip through his fingers.

He saw his breath play out into the icy air in front of him with a second stream coming from below him.

A minuscule thin whisp of breath escaped from your mouth. Your breath.

Your breath!

The hope surged in him, a newfound strength rushed through his whole body. He backed further on to the edge to gain more leverage, pulling you parallel against the edge. From there, he saw Changmo and Deokwang turn round the corner to the pool and called out to them. You were meant to live today.

The two rushed over, keeling at the edge and reaching out to you. Grabbing on the sides of your body, they hauled your limbs onto the pool edge, hair splaying out underneath you. He could see you more clearly now under the floodlights on the side of the house. The constrictive rise of your chest, the bolder outline of faint scars, and the withered body that had come of the complacency of the rest of the company.

His breath came back to him, pumping itself in and out of his lungs, his cheeks burning and the water rolling down his forehead.-------------------In the end, you were fine. Wrapped up safely in the living room of the house, eyes closed, ignorant to the looks of the others, burning time away in your subconscious dream state. Fortunately, Donggab had deemed the topic not to be talked about. He hates himself for being so weak, he feels as if he has failed.

Hyoeun couldn't help but feel guilty. Watching your stature of the great intelligent person that you were be reduced to the tiny ball on the sofa covered by a thin blanket.

They hadn't done enough to protect you, he hadn't done enough. He was the person you were closest to, but, obviously not close enough. It was as if his whole purpose had been shattered by you as if you had thrown the responsibility out of his hands. He was doing his best to look after you but then you pay no attention. He shouldn't be feeling as if the entirety of the world came down your health but if he couldn't keep you safe, what could he do?

He was angry at you, he was scared for you. What would have happened if hadn't found you fast enough? Or worse, if the others had found you first?

He despised the others and their disgusting, gruesome words. They were shameless and brash, nothing that should be exposed to you. In fact, he was determined to have you moved into another room, he hated them seeing you so vulnerable and exposed.

Once he could, he would dispense of them and nurture you properly. He was only staring at you, not focusing on the conversation in front of him, completely enticed by every small movement you made. Enamored by the small indents in your skin, the spotted freckles splattered against your cheeks, each strand of your hair wrapping around his mind. When he was with you he fell completely oblivious to the world around him. He felt himself a sinner kneeling at your altar. He would devote his life to your protection, your holiness, your cleanliness.

He had great plans for the future with you, grand and glorious plans, a future that would be marveled at. Maybe he should have been paying attention to the conversation in front of him, then, maybe, then you'd still be alive next week.