where the sunflower never wakes up | KimChay Fanfic Oneshot 🔞

Ergo

!!!CONTENT WARNING!!!

This project contains triggering themes and sensitive content. Reader discretion is advised.

***

Chay was the dawning of love. The spring of hope and joy. All cradled in his sweet earth eyes. In his full lips bellows the songs of life and beginnings. He was all and everything until he wasn't.

Broken and damned by a man who couldn't stand the magnitude of their love.

Everybody knows the story when a boy loves. They get lied to and forsaken. Stripped of their innocence and their delicate trust in the world. Beaten and battered, until they could give no more. Left only with tears for comfort.

Only God knows what Chay did to himself when Kim left.

The men. The drugs. The bodies he doesn't wanna mention or recall. The blood that had dried under his nails.

He's nearly forgotten everything —to his convenience. However, one thing he will whisper: one that has kept him going. In the evenings when he feels vulnerable the most. Again and again, he would say to the wind; "I'll break him too." Along with the tears and bitterness from his barren world.

This hell had clung to him for years: Chay swelling in hate. He was a threatening eruption. Then, Kim announced his early retirement. He says he does not feel the joy of performing anymore. It felt more like work instead of passion. He tells the world he's to focus on producing music instead. A corroded lie to feed his fans and himself. To lighten the string of his dear brother's demand: help in the family business.

Kim couldn't ignore his calling any longer.

"Tonight," Porsche says. "Kim's arriving tonight." He answered the cold question. Chay is standing idly by the window, looking over the cityscape, calculating his movements to not startle the sniper across the roof. He flips the coin on his knuckles twice and Arm pulls the trigger.

"It is done." Pol relays the message, piercing the eerie silence between the brothers. The assassin has been eradicated. Porsche lets a relieved sigh. He hated this game: of playing bait. Porchay, on the other hand, takes pleasure in the knowledge of death. He felt himself shiver, excitement rushing through his veins. He turns his back on the window, smiling at his brother.

Finally. Chay smiles to himself. Fate is to meet them once more. But this time he's smarter.

...

The evening is as hot as the day. The air conditioners whir in protest, being worked for hours. Filling the back of the restaurant with its low vibration. Echoing in the concrete, murmuring into Chay's ears; a comforting white noise. Macau isn't bothered by this either. (He simply does not notice) He's idly checking his fingernails, as he sits next to his dear cousin.

"Can you try not to look too interested?" Chay tells the other. 

Macau snickers and fidgets his feet; knees prompted on the table's apron. "How'd you know?" he teases. Chay pushes those knees down.

"Please. It's been two long years since last we saw him. I'd never want to miss it." The excitement in his tone did not please Chay. Macau indulges the grimace on the other's face.