wik is a famous musician, a heartthrob and a distant mafia son.
porchay is a famous vlogger that has an unknown fan account for the one and only, wik.
"tell me angel, how much did you miss me?"
a kimchay au wherein: wik is a well known and estab...
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looking at the exhausted reflection in the mirror of the past, kimhan sighed. everyone around him had said that the time passing helped ease the pain, helped with calming down the storm in his head and mend together the broken pieces in his slowly beating heart. he closed his eyes, hardly wanting to see the person who destroyed everything there was. everything that made him happy.
kimhan was but his own demon. six months. six excruciatingly long months since he tore apart the relationship he was building with the angel boy, porchay. even the mention of his name, shattering the only pieces left of his heart. kimhan dropped down on the cold tiles of the floor, erasing every single bit of his image off the mirror reflection. to him? it reflected his past self. the wicked kimhan, the kimhan that did not care, the one that could not care even if he tried.
he just sat there, his eyes wandering off to every place possible, nothing around him being an object of healing, not even a place of healing. it all reminded him of porchay. every single bit. from the king sized bed in which porchay soundly slept six months ago to the fairly small couch in which the two would spend their time talking and cuddling, six months ago. the scent of the younger completely fading as the months passed. month by month, kimhan began breaking.
the first month after they broke up. kimhan tried calling porchay, he had tried every way that was possible of contacting the younger boy, tried his best to hear that angelic and calming voice. the voice of the boy who helped him be someone he soo badly wished to be, specifically around him. kimhan however? he could not get in touch with him, porchay had blocked his number and kimhan realised that the younger needed space, he needed to be left alone. no matter how much he wanted to hear that voice, see that face, touch that hair, he couldn't. not anymore. the older sat down on his couch, the fabric feeling colder than ever.
the second month after they had broken up. kimhan hadn't left his room for quite a long time. he avoided his meals. avoided his brothers, his father, his own career. he had gone into something worse than a slump. his phone scattered somewhere in the gigantic pile of plenty of other things. he had lost count of the days, the weeks. he had lost count of time. lost in his thoughts, his painful thoughts. his daily reminders as to why he's a horrible human being. human? more like a monster. he believed he was a monster and he never doubted that. his heart burning with a breaking feeling as he held onto his chest, heaving heavily. the factor that was hurting most to him was the monster in him that ruined everything. every little precious thing.
the third month after they had broken up. knocks. knock after knock. that's all he heard behind the locked door. "kim.." the same voice repeatingly calling out for him. just because he lived on his own, it did not mean his brothers didn't try checking up on him but did he accept it that easily? no. he pushed them away. every single one of them. they would call for him, beg for him, even plead for him but just as he did with his no longer angel, he left. he didn't stay. he just pushed him away. kimhan pushed everyone away even though all they wanted was to help him. he succumbed to the deeper depth of his self destruction, succumbed to every word of scarring devastation flowing in his head. he tried to fight it off, tried to fight the urge to disappear, vanish from everyone. he really tried, for him.
